Richardmet up with us and wrapped his arm around Devin’s shoulders. “Incredible, huh?”he said with an enthusiastic smile. “I love this place.”
“You’vebeen here before?” I asked him.
Hesmiled and nodded in my direction. “A few times, yeah. I was on tour with aband a while back and they played a few shows at The Filmore. I spent a littletime here each day. I’d sit, eat my lunch, have a cup of coffee …” An ideastruck him, and he shook his head, disappointedly. “You know, that’s what weshould have done today. We could’ve grabbed something to eat.”
Theremark struck a brittle chord in my heart. Memories of my father, from when Iwas a little girl, before the addiction had consumed him and took him away.Things we would do together, things we did as a family. Beach walks and pickingdaisies.
Then,all those years when he was too fucked up, too sick to be the attentive father.The robbery.All ofthose empty years without him inmy life.
Richardwasn’t my father. He could never prove to be a replacement for a man I stillremembered so well, so fondly—almost too fondly, considering—but I smiled,because he was attempting to build a relationship with me. A relationship I hadbeen without and missed so horribly.
Inodded, urging my throat to open and let the words pass. “That would’ve beennice,” I croaked, smiling at him.
Devin’shand squeezed around mine. His lips twitched, not wanting to smile and make themoment more monumental than it needed to be. But I caught the beginnings of hisgrin, and I couldn’t fight it as I smiled, despite the tears in my eyes.
“Someother time,” Richard said, reaching out to touch my elbow. “Maybe your momwould like to come with us. We could, uh, make a double date of it.”
Ora family outing, I thought as I squeezed Devin’s hand, andheld on tight.
?
Thebackstage area of the venue was small and lacking in glamour, but the crowd wasbigger than they’d played before. Richard had estimated about a thousand peoplewould be occupying the place and my own stomach rolled with nervous jitters. Icould only begin to imagine what Devin was thinking, putting on the new leatherjacket the record label had given him.
“Howdo I look?” He spun around, shooting me his bestBondfinger-guns.
Ilaughed. “Like James Dean, only hotter.” Then, I chewed on my lower lip beforereluctantly saying, “But, what about Billy’s jacket?”
“I’mjust giving this one a try, baby.” He chuckled. “And if you thinkthisis hot, then just wait until they cut my hair.”
“What?They’re cutting your hair?” I reached up to run my fingers through the soft,deep brown waves that curled at the tops of his ears and at the nape of hisneck.
“Yeah,the stylist said it’s too, um, 90’s alternative.”
“Butthat’s your style …” I couldn’t believe how distraught I was getting over hairas I resisted the urge to pout. Itwasjust hair, but Christ, I wassurprising even myself with the restricting of my throat.
“Richardagreed with her, though. They think if I were more of a, uh … EddieVedderor Kurt Cobain type of performer, it could work.But, she saidas long asI was going with the JohnMayer, Ed Sheeranflavor—whatever the fuckthatmeans—I shouldn’tkeep the hair.”
Isighed, turning my head away to stare at … something, anything. The waterbottle on the table looked like a good focal point. So, I studied it while Iworked my bottom lip between my teeth again, clutching my hands to my sides.
“Nobodycares what Ed Sheeran’s hair looks like,” I found myself saying. Whining alittle more than I intended.
“It’sjust hair, KJ,” he reminded me with a gentle chuckle. “I mean, if I hate it, Ican let it grow.”
“Yeah,I guess that’s true.” But still, I sighed and shook my head.
Becauseit was more than that. It was more than hair. It was his well-fitting clothesand new jacket. Everything fitimpeccablyand helooked amazing, but they weren’t choices he had made for himself. It wasstarting to feel as though he were playing some role in a show they wereputting on, and I wasn’t sure this was what he had in mind when he wanted to bea known musician.
“Hey,”he said, stepping toward me and wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “This isthe first date of my tour, baby. I don’t want you to be sad over my hair. Iwant you to smile,” and he leaned down to kiss my neck. “I want you to behappy,” and he kissed a little more aggressively; opening his mouth, swirlinghis tongue over my skin. My head tipped to the side with my moan. “And I wantyou to be ready to rock my world later, after I rock yours.”
“Mine,and a thousand other girls,” I teased, my upset fading with the scraping of hisprickly smile against my neck.
“Onlyone girl matters to me,” he said against my ear, and my hand pushed into hishair. Teasing the strands, knowing how badly I was going to miss it.
Knock-knock.“Yolovebirds, I’m coming in,” Robbie announced, throwingthe door to the dressing room open. “Ah, too bad, Princess. I was hoping to geta glimpse of that ass.”
Devin’shead shot up, his dark eyes flickering with murderous intent, and he slowlyturned to face Robbie at the door. “Robbie, if you don’t get the fuck out ofhere, I’ll—”
Robbiecackled, stepping into the room, and I was immediately hit with theoverpowering stench of stale cigarettes. “Oh, shit, man! You should’ve seenyour face! God, you two need to stop taking me so goddamn seriously. I mean,shit,you really think I want to see you banging your woman?”
