“You lost, kid?” Jase says to Dallas when he makes no move to leave. “She just said your display is over there.”
“You got a problem, Wade? I don’t recall her asking for your—”
“Okay, boys,” I interrupt, moving between them. “Everybody has an equally big . . . guitar,” I say. “To your corners. Fans are coming in.”
I place a hand on Dallas’s chest and shove him toward where his meet-and-greet is.
His fingers encircle my wrist reminiscent of the way they did in the bedroom not too long ago. “So this how it’s gonna be with us now?”
“We’re not discussing this now, not here,” I say, nodding toward the steady stream of fans pouring into the aisles.
“After the show then?”
“We’ll see.”
After I’ve wrangled him over to Katie, I head back to Jase, where fans are waiting impatiently for me to take their pictures. I apologize half a dozen times and get started. But the entire time, I can feel his eyes on me. More so when I have to step closer to Jase or when Jase comes over to talk to me between pictures.
I’m just doing my job, Dallas. Back off.
I try to send the message telepathically to him, but judging from the hard glare he gives me when he has to leave to take the stage, the message was not received.
“You cannot ever do that to me again.” I corner Dallas backstage after his show, having had time to grow angrier about his Neanderthal behavior. “How would you feel if I stormed into your meet-and-greets and snapped at your fans the way you went after Jase? Do you even know what could happen if you piss him off?”
“First of all,” Dallas begins, whirling on me, “I am not afraid of him. And second of all, he was out of line. If one of my fans got out of line like that and you called her out, I’d probably sport wood for a month from that memory alone.”
“You so do not get it. And here I thought you took this seriously.”
He zeroes in on me with the precision of a hawk. “Oh I take it very seriously. The question is, does he?”
“It was one night, Dallas.”
“Bullshit. Maybe it was one night recently, but we both know it’s a hell of a lot more than that.”
“You do not own me,” I state firmly, planting my hands on my hips. “So stop acting like you do.”
Dallas’s chest expands and he opens his mouth, but before he can say whatever asinine thing he has planned, Jase lets out a loud guitar riff onstage and the drums take off like a thousand helicopters.
“Come!” Dallas shouts over the din, reaching out and taking me by the elbow.
I follow because otherwise my head is going to explode from the noise.
Once we’re back behind the buses in a relatively quiet area, Dallas leans back against a trailer. “Look, I get why you blew me off. You’re right, it was one night and I don’t own you. But I don’t want to see you get hurt, either. How well do you know him? I mean, really know him?” He nods at the giant rendition of Jase’s face
“I don’t know. I know a lot about him. I had to. For my job.”
“But you don’t really know him as a person? Like you know me?”
“Are you looking to get slapped again, Lark? Because every time you insinuate I am screwing my way into—”
“Stop. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then say what you mean, Dallas. Quickly.”
“I hear him with fans. He propositions them. And Mandy says that’s why the two guys before me got kicked off the tour. Because they encroached on his female territory or some bullshit.”