I’ve never had this kind of reaction to a woman in my life. Especially one I’ve vowed to keep safe from dicks like me. I watch them go through a few songs while the front of house and stage sound guys make their adjustments, then follow her to where she racks her guitar near the stringer.
“Hey.”
She looks up at me and blinks in feigned surprise. “You’re sober.”
I shrug. “For the moment. How’s the tour going so far?”
She looks out at the arena. “Pretty good. No one’s thrown rotten fruit at me or booed me off the stage yet.”
I laugh at her modesty. “You crushed them in New York. I’m sure the same has happened in Cleveland, and last night in Buffalo, and will happen everywhere else we stop.”
My plan is to segue into telling her I’ve seen pictures of her with Max and ask her what’s going on, but her manager comes over from where she’s talking to a local news crew.
“Hi,” she says, holding her hand out toward me. “I’m Shiloh’s manager, Billie. We met in New York?”
“I remember,” I say, taking her hand and shaking.
“Shiloh’s got an interview,” she tells me but then there’s a shift in her expression, as if something just dawned on her. “Any chance you’d be willing to join her?”
I glance at Lucky and her eyes widen as she gives me a nearly imperceptible shake of her head.
“Sure,” I say with a grin. “Why the hell not?”
Lucky’s jaw tightens as she spins for where the news crew is waiting for her.
“Special treat!” Billie tells the crew. “Tro Gunnison is still here after his sound check and has agreed to join the interview if that’s okay with everyone.”
The reporter gives an enthusiastic yes and introduces herself to Shiloh and me.
“So, Shiloh,” she says as her cameraman gives the signal he’s rolling. “What’s it like touring with one of the hottest bands worldwide right now?”
I can see Lucky really wants to roll her eyes, but restrains herself. “We really don’t see much of each other,” she says with a dismissive flick of her wrist at me, “but I hope we’re bringing the fans what they’re coming out to see.”
“Reviews have been stellar,” the reporter answers with an enthusiastic nod. She asks several more generic questions about our music and fans and what’s next from us, then turns to me. “Since I have you here, Tro, I have to ask. You caused a little bit of a stir in New York when you implied on stage that there was something…physical between you and Shiloh. Is there any truth to that?”
I let the shit-eating grin spread and look at Lucky. “I never kiss and tell.”
Now Lucky can’t suppress the eye roll. “What he meant to say is, no.”
“Yet,” I shoot back.
“Ever,” she counters, and if looks could kill, I’d be fried by a million megawatts of hate.
And with that look, I see my new strategy.
“You are aware that Shiloh’s only sixteen?” the reporter interjects, her expression deadly serious now.
I grin and raise an eyebrow at Lucky, egging her on. “Lucky for me that’s the age of legal consent in Canada.”
“So, you don’t think that would be taking advantage of the situation?” the reporter counters, the claws of her inner feminist coming out.
I shake my head. “Hell—”
Lucky’s voice is all venom when she cuts me off. “How many octaves do you think his voice would raise if I tore his balls off?”
He reporter’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Because that’s what will happen if he tries to touch me,” Lucky adds with a smirk that goes straight to my dick. “Thinking that might not be good for his singing career.”
The reporter glances at the cameraman to make sure he’s getting all this just as Billie steps in.
“Let’s call that a wrap,” she says, holding a hand over the lens of the camera. “I think everyone’s under a lot of pressure and very tired. If you could just disregard that last exchange…?”
But that’s the last thing I want. I want everyone to see Lucky has teeth. They might think twice about fucking with her if they think she’ll rip off their balls.
“I’m not sure I can do that,” the reporter says. “This is a huge human interest story that started weeks ago. Fans want to know the real story.”
Billie’s stance is stone. “This is just sensationalistic journalism. No credible outlet would air that footage.”
The reporter’s eyes widen. “Every credible outlet would run it. Asking us to do anything else is censorship.”
I tug Lucky’s elbow as Billie continues to argue her point, trying to get her attention.
She yanks it away. “Don’t touch me.”
I tip my head toward the stage as I turn that direction, hoping she’ll be curious enough to follow.
She does, but I find out it’s because she’s not done with me when she catches up to me. “That the fuck was that?” she asks, flinging her arm at where her manager is still arguing her case with the reporter.
“You showing the world that you’re not some soft, pathetic girl that they can take advantage of.”