We’re on a talk show before heading to the arena here in Phoenix.
So far, Vanessa has covered pretty safe topics, such as the British accent, our favourite song to work on, and who gets the loudest screams—me. She knows not to broach the pregnant-whore situation. Lindsay and Jodie have taken care of that.
My statement is out there, and that’s all the time I’m giving it until I’m required to do something else.
I sit forward, resting my arms on my legs. “Please do.”
“She’s back in England now? Do you miss her?”
“Yeah, she had a few things to do back home, but I’m hoping she’ll be able to join me in Australia.”
“What was it like to tell Mark Knight that you were dating his daughter?”
I laugh and sit back. “Terrifying, but it went a lot better than I’d thought. I still have all my body parts.”
Cooper snorts. “Debatable.”
I shove his arm.
Vanessa adds, “So, he was fine about it?”
“I mean, he didn’t do cartwheels around the bus, but he can see how much I love her.”
“Aw,” Vanessa coos. “She’s a lucky girl. And you’re a lucky guy!”
Milo laughs. “He hit the jackpot, and he’ll spend every day hoping she doesn’t realise what she’s done.”
I roll my eyes. Don’t mention Lexi. It will make you the world’s biggest tosser.
“Cooper, what’s the best part of being a rock star?” Vanessa asks, giving him a flirty smile.
I tense and feel Milo’s body stiffen beside me.
Fuck. He wouldn’t.
His eyes darken. “It’s before the watershed, so I’ll say the music, Vanessa.”
Wow. His filter is on.
But I suppose, after saying fuck not once but four times on live radio, he’s learned his lesson. Or he just doesn’t want another punch in the gut for being a dick.
She throws her head back and laughs. “Thank you for censoring there, Cooper.”
Oh God, he’s going to shag her.
Milo chuckles, thinking the same thing.
Vanessa is in her late forties, but you wouldn’t be able to tell. She must have a very good plastic surgeon who’s stopped her aging at thirty.
Coop won’t care that she’s more than double his age and could’ve given birth to him.
If you’re honest, you’ll admit the pre-Texas you would’ve had a second look.
“How is touring together? Didn’t you do most of Europe in a bus?”
“We did,” I say. “It was incredible, but I have no desire to be stuck in close quarters with these idiots for a month again.”
Milo scoffs, “He loved it.”
“How are you enjoying the States?”
Coop grins and pats his stomach. “The food is amazing.”
Vanessa laughs, keeping her eyes on him for a fraction longer than she does with me and Milo. He had better be discreet about this.
What am I saying? He’s going to shout it from the rooftops.
“Well, thank you, boys.” She turns to the camera and holds up our album cover. “Filthy Sound is at the Gila River Arena tonight at seven thirty p.m., and the album is out now.”
We wait until we’re told to move.
When they cut to a break, Jodie wanders over. “Thank you, Vanessa.”
“You’re welcome. It was a pleasure having them on the show.”
Cooper’s gaze locks on Vanessa, eye-fucking her in front of a roomful of people.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, thanks. We should be going though, right?”
We need to get Cooper out of here before he takes her on the fucking sofa.
Jodie’s hand snatches Coop’s upper arm. “Absolutely. We can’t be late!”
Scowling, Coop lets Jodie pull him off the set.
“Honestly, Jack, I don’t know where your head is sometimes. If you must, call her after you’ve given the performance of a lifetime.”
She lets go, and he throws his arm over her shoulder.
“I plan to, Jodie! She’s even hotter in the flesh. And I want to see her flesh. And call me Cooper!”
“I bet you’re glad you took on a band, right?” Milo says to Jodie.
“Best thing I’ve ever done,” she mutters sarcastically.
Four hours later, Enigma is performing their encore. I watch Mark in awe, still envious of the way he owns the arena and every person in it. Watching him is a privilege. I try to memorise how he does it, but it’s not something that can be replicated. It’s pure talent that bleeds on the stage every time he stands upon it. We all have our own way of doing things, and I’d never want to be a carbon copy of him, not really. But I can’t help wish that I’d gotten there first.
I take my phone out of my pocket and send a message to my girl. She didn’t text or try to call me back after my failed attempt last night, and I’m trying not to analyse why.
She’s starting to get bored of your lifestyle. It was different when it was her dad. Everything about this is different for her.
Holding my phone in a death grip, I type. My heart is burning with the need to say what I want, but I hold back. Creating an argument isn’t going to help us.
Going on soon. I miss you.