Tory stepped forward and made a cutting motion with her hand over her throat. The implication was clear to the DJs: End this line of questioning, or I pull my talent. They quickly redirected the interview toward the band’s concert that night, and Kellan visibly relaxed.
When the interview was over, Kellan walked over to me, his expression glum. He really hated that he couldn’t steer the public’s perception of him. He was a puppet, along for the ride, but not really a part of it. No, this show belonged entirely to Nick and Sienna. I patted his arm in sympathy, then I dropped my hand to my side. I was keeping public affection to a minimum. Not only did I still not want the world’s attention focused on me, but things with “Kell-Sex” were just too crazy at the moment. And if Kellan couldn’t control what people thought about him, then he definitely couldn’t control what people thought about me. If the gossipers figured out who I was, they’d never leave us alone. They would paint me as the other woman in the Kell-Sex love affair. I would be hated, reviled, possibly even egged. Being in an across-the-globe scandal freaked me out so much that I had even asked Kellan to switch his wedding ring to his right hand when we were out. I just didn’t want to cause unnecessary problems for myself. The waters just needed to calm a little bit. And they would, as soon as this tour was over.
In an absurd way, I was Kellan’s dirty little secret. It was a disturbingly familiar feeling, one I didn’t care for. I had no idea how we were going to keep our wedding in December quiet. Or if we even could. Marriage licenses were a matter of public record, right? Anyone searching deep enough for info on Kellan would find it.
Since we had rolled into town this morning but the show wasn’t until tonight, the bands were being put up in a hotel room. Kellan and I had decided to abandon our bus love nest for a spacious suite with a Jacuzzi. As an obscenely oversized SUV transported the D-Bags and company back to the hotel, my phone rang. Rummaging through my bag, I found my cell shoved between the pages of a book I was trying to read in my spare time. I was so busy writing that I would have had more luck reading an entire novel if Kellan read it to me. Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea.
Glancing at the screen, I answered with, “Hey, sis. What’s up?”
“Where are you?”
Looking out the window, I told her, “Atlanta, why?”
My sister huffed. “I know you’re in Atlanta. Where in Atlanta are you right at this very second?”
“We’re on the road. We just left the radio station and we’re heading to the hotel, some swanky place in Buckheel, Buckhead, something like that. Why?”
My sister’s tone brightened. “Oh, good! I’m coming to the show tonight. Can you flip a bitch and swing by the airport to pick me up?”
It took me a minute to register what she was saying. “You’re in Georgia?”
Twisting around from the front seat, Griffin echoed my question. “Anna’s in Georgia?” His eyes damn near sparkled with the news. “Awesome. Where is she?”
I answered Griffin with “Airport,” while my sister answered me. “Yep! My flight just arrived.”
Dumbfounded, my only thought was, “Why are you in Georgia?” My second thought was Swing by? The airport was nowhere near our hotel. In fact, our hotel was a bit north of the heart of Atlanta, where the concert was tonight, while the airport was south. Going to get her was way out of our way. But I wouldn’t abandon her at the airport. Neither would Griffin; he was already telling the driver to turn around.
Anna snorted before she answered my question. “I just told you why. Now come get me. Love you!” Then she disconnected. I shook my head as I shoved the phone back in my purse. Of course my sister would travel over halfway across the country on a whim to watch a concert.
Chapter 18
Company
My spontaneous, erratic, fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants sister arrived with a half-dozen pieces of luggage. Just by the look of her, I had a feeling she was staying for more than one concert. And her belly had grown so much bigger since the last time I’d seen her. Her waddle had turned genuine. As I wrapped my arms around her, the baby pressed against my stomach. Giggling, I leaned down and placed a hand over the protrusion. “Hi, Max,” I cooed.
“It’s Maximus,” Griffin interrupted, brushing me aside to collect Anna into his arms. Grabbing her face, he greeted her with his tongue. It was a little over the top on the PDA scale, but I’d been watching Griffin ever since his admission that he hadn’t been with anyone else since Anna told him she was pregnant, and from all I’d seen, he was telling the truth. And that was a lot of abstinence for the horn dog; he had to be practically dying on a daily basis.