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BRODIE
After two hours of smiling and putting on a good face (and singing), I was done.
Don’t get me wrong, the adulation was always welcome, but I’d had all the peopling I could handle.
All I wanted was to be left alone.
After what happened on the ride over, I was uneasy and vulnerable like I rarely was.
And it was all because of Van.
Even though I’d been approached by several hot men tonight, I felt nothing. Not a spark, not a lick of desire.
But when the last guy handed me his card with an open invitation to get together later tonight, I took it.
Not because I was going to call him, no.
But because Van stared at the guy like he was ready to rip his head off. And I, of course, could not resist poking the bear.
I wasn’t above playing dirty to get through to him.
Was it my most mature moment? Hell no. But all’s fair in love, right?
Then I realized that doing such a thing only played into Van’s idea that I was only interested in getting in his pants. One and done, and on to the next guy. And that was far from the truth.
I handed the card back.
Lookit me, acting all mature and shit.
Suddenly, Van was by my side and introducing himself to… Leon… Liev… I couldn’t remember. The guy looked like a Norwegian model—all white teeth and icy blond hair.
“I’m Ivan Cross, Wayward Lane’s manager. I’m afraid that Brodie isn’t doing interviews until the night of the concert,” Van snapped and passed over his card. “If you want to set it up, you contact me.”
“Oh, I’m not with the press,” Blondie replied, giving me a flirty grin. “Not at all.”
Van’s expression grew darker, and his cheeks flushed.
“We gotta hit the road, but it was nice to meet you,” I held my hand out.
Blondie gripped it for much longer than a normal handshake.
Van’s scowl was downright lethal.
“Same. Are you sure you don’t want to get together later?”
“I have to rest up the voice, and I have an early morning, but thanks.”
“No worries, then. I’ll see you at the concert.”
Blondie winked at me, nodded at Van, and sauntered off through the crowd.
“Sorry, I thought he was media,” Van muttered and made to turn away.
I reached for his arm and held on, pulling him in close to me.
“I gave the card back. I’m not interested.”
“It’s none of my business.” He shook his head and glanced up at me.
