Going out with Trent today was ... unexpectedly pleasant. Conversation with him when no one else was around was easy. I don’t know why I felt comfortable enough to open up to him about something personal. But I did, and I trust my gut.
He’s inviting to talk to, and I guess I didn’t realize how much I miss that. I’m a loner. An introvert. It doesn’t really bother me being on my own for long periods of time. I don’tneedothers, but sometimes it’s nice towantthem. Not that I want Trent. Sure, he’s more than the sum of his good looks and talent and that ridiculously lengthy tongue that makes my thighs squeeze together—but I made a vow, and I’ll never go there with a rock star. Attractiveness coupled with a sincere personality doesn’t change that.
Besides, our little run-in with hisfriendon the way out of the restaurant further proves no matter his redeeming qualities, he’s still a player. Something for me to remember when lustful thoughts intrude on reason.
But it’s nice to have a friend on the road. I think we can be that for each other.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. I sneak away during their sound check to hit the mall and grab a few things. Before I know it, it’s time to warm up, get dressed, and head onstage for my show—a routine that’s beginning to feel familiar, but one that still doesn’t quite feel real. Play my set. Meet fans. Sign autographs. Take photographs. Like I’m something important. Special. All for me. Because of my music, not my father.
This ismylife.
Pinch me, because it feels like a fucking dream.
A knock at the door pulls my attention from the red I finish painting across my lips.
“Lexi, you ready? Curtain call in fifteen,” the show manager calls into my dressing room.
One last look in the mirror confirms I’m ready and I straighten my skirt. “Yep. Let’s do this.”
“Damn, girl. That line felt like it was never gonna end.” Jax smiles and pats my back before he squats down to pull out another box of shirts from behind one of the merchandise tables.
“I know. Biggest crowd yet.” My feet hurt from standing so long in my heeled boots. Charlotte fans sure love their music. I sold and signed T-shirts and CDs well into 3UG’s set, the last of the attendees wandering inside only moments ago. I could have left an hour ago, but I enjoy taking time with each fan, and I know it makes their night. Besides, Jax is cool and he enjoys the extra sales gained from my time at the table.
“I called it. Remember? Have you Googled yourself lately? You’re blowing up YouTube.”
“I haven’t, but my agent called me last week. She’s seeing all the future dollar signs.” I chuckle and shake my head, remembering her screams through the line. Amie’s more than a little excited about “discovering” my talent. But she’s also one of those girls who used to scream at everything. Back in college it was football games, an A on a final, two-dollar taco nights—it never took much to get her excited, so it’s hard for me to gauge how much she’s inflating my ego and what’s real hype.
“Yeah, I told Bedo we need to work on getting you more merch items. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have you record an album right after this tour.” He picks up my EP and raises a brow. “I hope you have more songs where this came from.”
I swipe it from him and set it back on the table, nudging his shoulder with my own. “I’ve been writing music for years. I’ve got dozens more up here, too.” I tap my temple and jump out of reach when he tries to ruffle my hair.
He laughs and shakes his head. “Okay, kid. Go enjoy your freedom.”
We have an extra day’s break before our next show, so tonight we’re all treated to hotels and a night away from travel. I’m eagerly awaiting an evening of peace and quiet. No snores, farts, or rumble of the bus. Only freshly laundered linens and blackout shades. After almost three weeks on the road, that’s close to heaven.
“Oh, I will! Thanks, Jax.” I lean into his shoulder and he gives me a side hug before I walk away. The roar of applause between songs invades the mostly empty entry to the arena and I flash my pass at security to gain access. I’m tempted to join Bedo and the groupies to watch the rest of the show backstage. It’s not like I need to hustle or rush getting changed tonight. But something causes me to hesitate. I like the guys. I get along with them on the road. I don’t want anything to change that, but I’m not sure I’d feel the same after seeing them fawned over and partying with a bunch of beautiful, needy women. No. In fact, I’m certain it would piss me off pretty bad.
Instead, I head to my dressing room, down a bottle of water, and kick up my feet, relaxing into a chair. Maybe after we check in to the hotel I’ll get room service. Or find a Thai place that delivers. Rent a movie and indulge in a chick flick.
Or I could go out with the guys, if only for dinner. They almost always invite me, but normally we have to hit the road within hours so I use that time to shower and bask in joyful silence. But since we’re staying the night in Charlotte ...
Maybe tonight when they ask, I’ll say yes.
Knock, knock.
Strange. Their show isn’t over yet. I rise and open the door.
“Miss Marx. You have a visitor,” a young guy, not even my age, wearing a security shirt says.
Not what I’m expecting and my curiosity is piqued. “Oh, okay.” I raise my brow.
“Bedo said to bring her to the friends and family room with the rest of the band’s guests. If you’ll follow me, I can show you the way?”
“Sure. Yeah.” I glance around my tiny dressing room and run back to grab my cell before following the guy down the hall. “Did he tell you who it was?”
He shakes his head. “No. I thought you were expecting her.”
“Oh. No.” My brain races and I check my phone for messages. I’m not sure whether I know anyone who lives near Charlotte.
