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“Stick to playing music instead of telling me how to do my job,” he snapped back. “Oh, by the way, I cleared Frankie.”
“Who?”
Dawson smirked.
Oh shit. I forgot all about the guy from the VIP room.
“Your new friend, remember?” Dawson replied, his green eyes sparkling.
“Oh yeah, well, that’s great.” I nodded and took another sip of my drink. “But instead of the dressing room, I’d like to take him back to my place.”
Dawson's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. And with good reason.
I rarely brought guys home. I preferred to fuck in hotel rooms, dressing rooms, tour buses, everywhere but my sanctuary. Only my family—and by family, I mean the guys and the people we worked with—were allowed in my home.
I know, I know, for a guy who hates rules, I did have a few of my own. Don’t use my first name, and don’t ask to come home with me.
Tonight, though, I felt like breaking one of them.
“All right,” Dawson sighed and tapped his earpiece. “Lennie, I’m gonna be on night watch at Holloway’s. You’ll switch over tomorrow at ten to take them to the studio.”
“Is that really necessary?” I asked.
Dawson crossed his arms. “By night watch, I mean, I’ll check the house, see you guys inside, and wait on the premises.”
“That’s ridiculous. There’s no need for you to stay on the property overnight. I’m perfectly safe in my own home.”
“New rules since the break-in. If you bring any overnight guests to your house, and I mean anyone that isn’t the band or members of our crew, security is to remain on site. Text Regan if you don’t like it.”
Regan was Dawson’s boss.
“I will. As soon as the show’s over,” I replied and looked around. “Where is she, anyway?”
“She’s in Paris, scoping out the venues.”
Normally, we’d do our European concerts at the end of the year, but Brodie wanted to try something different. Break up the schedule. So, in a week, we were flying to France and would be staying there for a couple of concerts, then on to England, then back home. We had April off, and our North American concert schedule started in May.
I gulped down the rest of my drink, my hydrated brain finally kicking into gear.
For sure, I’d be texting Regan about this new rule. The break-in was a while ago, and I hadn’t even been home at the time. It was nothing. And I didn’t want Dawson camped out in my house all night. He’d been with us all day, and now this? A twenty-four-hour shift? And what about his son back home?
And why did that last concern pop into my head at all? Maybe I needed tequila instead of water…
“You can’t go twenty-four hours without sleep. That’s ridiculous and totally unnecessary.”
Dawson shrugged and stared at me. “I’ve done it before.”
“Forget it. I’ll just meet Frankie in my dressing room and be done with it,” I snapped.
“Wow, so enthusiastic.” Dawson smirked.
“Well, I was until five minutes ago.”
“Five minutes ago, you couldn’t remember his name.”
I was about to bite back when I caught Brodie motioning for me from across the room.
Good thing, too, because for some strange reason, this exchange between me and Dawson was making my blood race.
