“It’s all part of my mysterious persona. Hey, where did your scarf go? I kinda liked seeing my mark on you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him as we walked through the parking lot. “Seriously? Your mark?”
“What? I bought it, you wore it. What would you call it?”
“Uh, a gift? Like a normal person would.”
“Po-tay-to, po-tat-o.”
I had to laugh. “I’m still wearing it…I guess you’ll just have to find it later.”
Ben dropped his head with a groan. “Here I am being a nice guy, literally making your dreams come true, and you gotta do me like that?”
“I like to keep you on your toes.”
His arm came around my shoulders, and he held me at his side as we walked toward the security gate. “I’m always on my toes with you. Gotta be to keep up.”
The guards nodded at us as we walked through the gate.
“Here.” Roscoe gestured to a different path. “We gotta walk around the back of the stage. Steve and Max are staking out spots for you two at the front of the stage, but we gotta wind our way around to get there.”
I followed wide-eyed and silently marveled at the number of people in black hustling equipment. Everyone clearly knew the plan and was working to get it done. I caught my breath when I spied Monica’s backup dancers stretching on the sand behind the stage. I’d never seen her show before, but I’d watched enough videos online to pick out their outfits blindfolded at this point.
“What is it?” Ben bent down to whisper in my ear.
I just shook my head. No way was I going to tell him it wasn’t Monica I was geeking out about. I really wanted to be here to see these dancers do what they did.
But Ben followed my eyeline and watched the dancers stretch as we walked by. Then he smiled down at me but didn’t say anything. There was something companionable about our silence.
We came around the side of the stage with a new security guard leading the way. He walked us to a railing at the edge of the crowd right in front of the stage. A few people stood in the small, gated area with cameras and video equipment. A new security guard opened a gate in the railing and gestured us through.
Booing broke out through the crowd as we walked into the media area. Wincing, I burrowed into Ben’s side. I had a really strong feeling those boos were for us. I just wanted to see Monica’s dancers perform, I didn’t need all this.
A few gasps and loud whispers broke out through the crowd.
“Holy shit. That’s Reuben Bello!”
“What? No way. Why isn’t he in the VIP?”
“Can you get more VIP than the front fucking row?”
I lifted my head to look around as we pressed through another gate and into the crowd with security flanking us on all sides. That was the second time there’d been a Reuben Bello sighting, and I still couldn’t see what everyone was talking about. Although I doubted I’d recognize him.
“You excited?” Ben asked into my ear, his lips brushing against my lobe.
“So much. Thank you.”
He kissed me long and slow. Long enough for people around us to start to cheer—as I discovered when I broke our kiss and looked at the stage, assuming the show was going to start.
When I realized people were cheering our kiss, I burrowed into Ben’s chest again.
“You want?” Ben held out a small transparent plastic package to me. Earplugs.
I nodded, ripped open the package, and put them in. Ben did the same with another pack.
He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I melted into his side.
Then the opening strains of Monica’s song ‘Going Down’ vibrated around us and I whirled around to watch the spectacle.
