“How long are you staying?” Logan, the golden-haired bassist, asked. Curls framed his handsome face as he tilted his head to look at her. His blue eyes trained mostly on her chest, but occasionally flicked upward to meet her nervous stare. He extended a hand in her direction. “I’m Logan.”
“So glad to meet you,” she gushed.
She grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously, grateful for his goodwill. When she continued to pump his hand up and down long after was customary, he laughed. “I need that arm to play. Don’t dislocate my shoulder now.”
Her eyes widened and her cheeks went hot. She dropped his hand and immediately started to rub his arm to undo any damage. Wow, he had nice arms. So hard and smooth and warm. “I-I’m sorry. I’m just really really happy to be here, and I’m so incredibly excited to meet you all. I promise to do a great job. A really great job. The best job ever. You can count on me.”
Logan smiled at her as if she were the village idiot. Not that she blamed him. She was babbling like the village idiot.
A sudden commotion near the wall behind the stadium drew Toni’s overly divided attention. The buses were parked in a walled alcove, and a barrier had been erected to keep the crowd from harassing the band after the show. As Toni’s unexpected intrusion had kept the group outside longer than usual, they’d been spotted by fans leaving the concert.
“Get on the bus, guys,” Butch said. “You can figure out what to do with her inside.”
“I’ll have no problem figuring out what to do with her,” Logan said, his lips curving into a suggestive smile. “No problem at all.”
Toni stiffened. Was that a come-on? Surely she was imagining things. She glanced at the other members of the band, but no one else seemed to have heard his offhand comment.
“The fans have seen us,” Max said.
Dare grinned. “Can’t be helped.”
All four of them made a beeline for the crowd, their entire security team scrambling after them in a panic. Toni reached into her bag for her small camera and her audio recorder. Most of her gear was in the giant camera case that had been placed under the bus by the helpful security guard who had shown her to the bus, but she didn’t have time to grab superior equipment. She switched on the recorder and pinned it to the turtleneck collar of her burnt-orange sweater. She spoke into the microphone as she hurried after the group: “I think they want to interact with their fans. Security doesn’t look too pleased with their decision to approach the crowd.”
Toni snapped a picture of Steve signing the back of a pretty fan’s Drummers Bang Harder T-shirt. The young woman shuddered as he slowly tugged the silver marker tip over the soft cotton. Mr. Abs grinned mischievously as the hand he used to hold the young woman’s shoulder stationary inched down her chest. Toni’s eyes bulged when his questing fingertips finally reached their target and finding no resistance to his fondling, he cupped the woman’s breast, brushing its tip with his thumb. Oh my God. Did he even know this woman? Maybe he did. She didn’t smack him. Instead she covered his hand with hers and encouraged him to squeeze her boob while he eased in closer behind her and whispered into her ear. Toni wondered if she should include something like that in the book. She smiled as she imagined the caption beneath such a picture: Steve Aimes cops a feel while serving his fans. Or perhaps: Steve aims to bang more fans than drums.
The tremulous quality of an unfamiliar voice caught Toni’s attention. She tracked the sound to the teary-eyed man standing near Dare Mills and made sure her audio recorder was catching the balding man’s conversation to the standoffish lead guitarist. Toni could almost see the invisible bubble Dare had erected around himself. Unlike the swarming fans of the rest of the band members, Dare’s admirers kept a respectful distance and had formed a neat line while waiting for the chance to meet him. The only exception was the fan standing to his left, who wasn’t in Dare’s personal space, but was obviously out of line. Toni couldn’t tell if it bothered Dare. She couldn’t even tell if Dare was listening to the guy as he signed a CD insert and offered a smile to the giddy fanboy at the front of his line.
“High school,” the emotional fan beside Dare was saying. “High school was a nightmare. No one understood my pain. My rage. Except you guys. I must have listened to “Rebel in You” a million times. That song saved my sanity. Probably saved my life.”
“Rebel in You” had been Exodus End’s first hit. Toni tried to recall the lyrics, but could only remember lots of screaming and angry drumming and wailing guitars. Could one song really mean that much to a person?
“My first job was hell,” the guy continued. “Do you have any idea how much shit a yard of cattle produces? I never would have made it through the summer without “Bite” blaring through my headphones.”
Each tragedy of the man’s life—his breakup with the love of his life, the loss of his mother, the accident that resulted in him being unable to find work—was made tolerable, in his mind, by an Exodus End song. The lead guitarist didn’t comment throughout the fan’s entire long-winded story, though he did nod occasionally as he simultaneously signed autographs and paused for pictures with others.
Jeez, Dare. The guy is pouring his guts out to you. Are you even listening to a word he’s saying? She supposed it was his rock star ego that made the guitarist feel superior to the little people who’d paid for his mansion. Was he really an unfeeling ass? Maybe he would have gotten along better with Susan.
“I’ve been without work for a while,” the fan said. “I’m trying to find a decent job, but nothing ever seems to pan out for me. I was so bummed that I couldn’t afford to see you guys play live this year, but my bros got me a ticket for the show. It made my year to get to be here tonight. You have no idea how much it means to me to stand here talking to you. I just wish I wasn’t such a fuck-up.”
Dare’s grass green gaze lifted to meet Toni’s, and her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t been sure if Dare realized she was recording his apparent disinterest, but with one look, she knew she’d judged him unfairly. He was aware of everything going on around him and in perfect control of his surroundings. It was as if the universe was a slave to his whimsy. He turned to the disheartened fan to his left and grabbed the guy’s hand in a tight fist. Dare yanked him forward until their shoulders knocked together.
“Don’t let life get you down, man,” Dare said as he used his free hand to pat the man’s wide back. “Everything will work out. You have to believe in yourself even when no one else sees your true worth.”
Surprised by how much she needed to hear those exact words, Toni felt that Dare were talking to her. Why couldn’t her editor—or her mother—ever say something like that to her?
The fan beamed, tears in his dark eyes. He pulled a cellphone out of his pocket. “Can I get a picture with you? My friends are going to kick themselves for going directly to the hotel. They’ll never believe this shit without photographic evidence.”
Dare wrapped an arm around his new buddy and smiled, making a pair of devil horns with one hand while the guy held his phone in front of them and snapped a picture. Dare patted the man on the back before turning his attention to a gushing fangirl.
“Oh God, you’re so gorgeous, I’m about to wet myself.”
“If I was really that gorgeous, you’d already be wet,” Dare said.
Toni snorted in a most unladylike fashion. She had no problem picking up on the meaning of that jest, seeing as Dare’s quiet control and amazing green eyes made her wet in uncomfortable places. Toni pulled out a release form and handed it to the long-winded fan. When she explained that he might be included in an interactive e-book about the band, he was very accommodating.
“And I might be in the book? With Dare Mills?” he asked, nodding eagerly.
“No guarantees,” she said, “but yes. We can depict you as an anonymous fan or include your name. Just indicate your preference there on the form.”