I don’t even know who Dallas Walker is. And I don’t think I even like his ass.
“You all right, kid?” Jase Wade kicks my boot, startling me out of my stupor. “ ’Cause Lantram wasn’t entirely out of line for once. You have seemed pretty fucking out of it since we left the States.”
“Yeah. I’m great. Jet lag,” I lie. Mexico was a blur. Canada was a blink. I just played my first show in Rio and I can’t remember a single second of it.
“Nothing to do with a certain redhead we both know?”
His mention of Robyn surprises me and brings out a primal surge of protectiveness. “I know her a hell of a lot better than you do.”
Wade laughs at my outburst. “Easy, killer. I know you do. That wasn’t my name she was shouting across the airport. I gotta say, after a scene like that, I’m kind of surprised you made it here.”
“Why wouldn’t I be here?”
“Honestly? Girl looked like she was about to propose to you. I figured you’d be on your honeymoon by now.”
I snort, but there’s a part of me that wishes he were right. Brazil is beautiful. Colorful and vibrant like Mandy promised. But all I can think about is the way Robyn came alive in New Orleans. How she’d dance in the streets here, too, and moan about the food in a way that would have me hauling her back to our hotel room at lightning speed.
If I don’t tell someone, I’m going to explode before sound check.
“She’s pregnant,” I say quietly so none of the road crew members hear. “With my baby.”
“Ah. Congratulations.” Wade claps my shoulder hard and shakes my hand. I feel the maniacal grin spreading across my face.
“We’ll find out the sex of the baby this weekend. She’s going to text me the ultrasound photo.”
At that, he frowns. “Text, huh?”
I nod. It sucks but what else can we do?
“You know, I got a lot of updates about my daughter via text message, too.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “That she was taking ballet. When my wife found out she was allergic to strawberries. Several years’ worth of school pictures. Dance recital videos.”
He lets out a low sound, laughter devoid of humor, as if he’s forgotten I’m even in the room.
“Hell, I even got the ‘Jase, I want a divorce and full custody’ update via text message. Gotta love technology, right?”
I don’t miss his hidden meaning. “You trying to tell me something, Wade?”
“Not at all.” He shakes his head like he feels sorry for me. “I’m too busy trying to figure out what the hell you’re still doing here.”
“She told me to come. She said not to put my dreams on hold for this and that she’s fine. She can do this part without me.”
Again he gives me this look, like I’m a complete and total dumbass.
“I got news for you, kid. She can do all of it without you. The part you were needed for has already come and gone, so to speak.” He claps me on the shoulder again and turns to leave. “Have a good show. And when you get that text message telling you that she’s moved on, found someone who’ll hold her hand during the ultrasound and be there when she hears the baby’s heartbeat for the first time, call me and I’ll buy you a beer.”
“That won’t happen to us. She understands. We got this.”
“Then do something for me. Picture her sitting all alone in the waiting room watching all those moms-to-be with their husbands next to them. Imagine what that must feel like for her. Picture her going into labor while you’re onstage somewhere and no one can get in touch with you to tell you until after your show. Picture your kid’s first birthday party and imagine attending it via FaceTime on your phone because you’re in some godforsaken city three thousand miles away.”
Christ. I can picture all of that. His words come to life behind my eyes and there’s a pang deep in my chest.
“Now picture her face. Picture her raising your child by herself while you live your dream. Picture her seeing thousands of fans commenting online about how badly they want you and posting pictures of you with them in bars and buses and at parties. Tell me that girl understands. She’s a tough chick. Maybe she does understand. But just because she understands doesn’t mean she can live that life. It’s lonely and most women don’t do lonely well. For that matter, who does?”
“I have been picturing that,” I practically yell at him. “Every second of the damn day and night. It’s why I look like a member of the living dead onstage. But what am I supposed to do? Just walk away from everything I worked for? Give up my dreams to sit in waiting rooms and at birthday parties? Because I’m thinking I could give my kid a hell of a lot better life on this income than if I go home to Amarillo and work in construction. I don’t see you running home to the missus.”
Shit. That was low. The guy told me about his divorce and his ex-wife getting remarried recently. But I can’t help it. I’m in an impossible situation and I know it.
Wade leans down, putting his face level with mine. “If I had it to do over again, I would run home before you could say my name three times fast. But you’re right. These are the decisions you have to make. Sacrifices. No one said it would be easy.” He straightens, nodding at someone who’s entered the backstage area to announce that it’s time for him to go on. “Good luck to you, kid.”
I hear the unmistakable click of heels coming toward my room, then a knock rattles my door. I highly doubt I have groupies in Rio de Janeiro, so that only leaves one person.
“There you are,” Mandy says, sliding open my door and slapping me with a hate-filled glare. I switched seats with my drummer on the plane so I didn’t have to deal with her. She wasn’t too thrilled about it.
“Here I am,” I say evenly.
“So I heard you have big news. I’d say congratulations, but I figured we’d find another way to celebrate.”
She pulls a bottle of champagne from behind her back and it’s like a twisted scenario of when Robyn helped me celebrate “Better to Burn” going gold.
“Celebrate whatever it is for me. I’m pretty beat. Jet lag. You understand.”
Her eyes narrow on me and she stalks over to my bed. I wasn’t ready to discuss Robyn and the pregnancy so I’ve been avoiding my manager mostly. And I was angry about how she treated Dixie and afraid I’d lose my temper. But it looks like she’s going to force a confrontation so it must be time to get it all out in the open.
“Dallas, I’m going to try my best to make something very clear to you.” She sits down and I fight the impulse to shove her into the floor. “I have a very special relationship with my clients. One that allows me to become as close to them as I possibly can. It makes for a much more symbiotic relationship, in my opinion.”
“Meaning you fuck all of them, right?” Afton Tate mentioned this to me on the unsigned artists tour. He turned her down so she wouldn’t sign him.
“Meaning we don’t keep secrets from each other. Meaning I know everything about their lives so that if they knock up some random hanger-on from their hometown I can do what needs to be done before it affects their career. Do you understand?”
“Wade talk to you?”
She nods. “He was my client once. He knows how important it is to me to know what’s going on with my clients.”
“For you to know about it, Mandy? Or for you to try and control it? Because the way I see it, you told my sister to sit out in Nashville, then you told my pregnant girlfriend to stay away from me. What I can’t figure out is why you think either of those women is any of your business.”
“You are my business, Dallas. So anything or anyone that affects you is my business. If I hadn’t told your sister to sit out that number, you wouldn’t be here right now. And if your girlfriend, or whatever she is, hadn’t gotten knocked up and trapped you in a relationship, I wouldn’t be having to try and contact every one I know who can help us frame this in a more positive light.”
“Don’t bother. Far as I’m concerned, you’re fired anyway.” I stand and walk over to the door. “Here. Let me walk you out.”