Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(90)
“Sienna! Can we have a quick interview? Maybe some photos?”
The bodyguards that seemed to flank Sienna everywhere she went didn’t let the people through until Sienna spoke. “Sure thing.”
“With Kellan?” A blonde in super tight jeans asked. The suggestive smile on her face was very unprofessional.
Kellan jerked his thumb toward the stage. “Sorry, I have to go.”
The blonde pouted at him, holding up a camera. “Just a quick photo of the happy couple?”
Kellan rolled his eyes as he looked back at me. I was standing a little behind him, so the blonde probably couldn’t tell that we were holding hands. Locking eyes with the blonde, he pointed at Sienna and firmly told her, “We’re not together.”
The blonde gave Kellan a knowing smile. It was so clear to me that she was thinking, Got it, you don’t want to talk about your relationship with Sienna yet. Your secret is safe with me. Kellan looked like he wanted to set her straight, but I tugged on his arm. He’d have to point out who I was to effectively set her straight, and I didn’t want to be a part of this spectacle. Besides, the man wearing headphones was frantically waving at us to hurry.
As we turned away from the press, I noticed Sienna blowing Kellan a kiss. Before we were out of earshot, one of the radio personalities pointed at me and asked, “Who’s that?”
Her smile still bright and charming, Sienna immediately answered, “Just an old friend of Kellan’s.” She smirked a bit after she said it, then all of her attention was given to the interviewers.
Kellan didn’t hear, but I glared daggers into her back, not sure if I should be angry or not. She had called me an old friend when she could have just said “nobody,” and left it at that. I just wasn’t sure what to feel for Sienna. One minute she wasn’t so bad, then the next she was just as manipulative as Nick. I couldn’t tell what her deal was.
Thinking of old friends and sorting through my feelings got me thinking of Denny. The All Access pass around my neck let me go anywhere I wanted backstage, so I took out my cell phone and snapped a few pictures to send to him. Making my way to where I could watch the boys play, I snapped a pic of the massive crowd jumping up and down. Right after I sent the photo with a message that read, Can you believe the size of this crowd? I noticed a huge sign that a fan was holding high in the air—Kell-Sex forever! God, I really hated that nickname.
Denny texted back while I was looking around the dimly lit arena for more signs. Damn, I’d be crapping my daks if I were him. I suppose he’s not the least bit nervous, though, is he?
I laughed as I texted back that he was fine. Phlegmatic, even.
The stage was dark as the lights dramatically danced across the crowd in haphazard patterns. The fans roared in delight and lifted their arms in the air. Then all of the lights simultaneously swung toward the stage, and the mob screamed. Kellan and the boys had stepped out while they weren’t looking. Once the people realized they were standing there, waiting, they went nuts; it was easy to see that the fans were losing their minds over the fact that the D-Bags had been added to the tour. The noise vibrated my chest. I covered my ears as I laughed. From my vantage point, I could see Kellan shaking his head a little bit, completely blown away by the swaying mass of bodies before him. Even though I’d seen him do this a thousand times before, excitement flooded through me as I watched him approach the microphone.
“Good evening, Los Angeles!”
The answering squeals vibrated my skull. Adjusting the guitar strapped over his chest, Kellan flashed the crowd a panty-dropping grin. I saw someone in the front row fall back into her friends; guess her knees gave away.
As the rest of the boys got into position, Kellan raised his hand in the air. The crowd silenced . . . sort of. “We’re the D-Bags, and we’re honored to be playing for you tonight.” The silence evaporated into shrieking. Kellan put both hands up to quiet them. “Now, we’re only going to play for you if you’ve been good.” Unhooking the microphone, he walked up to the edge of the stage and looked down on the crowd at his feet. “So . . . have you been good?” he asked, his voice dripping with sensuality.
The crowd’s response was so loud that I almost didn’t hear Evan start the intro. I was sure that Kellan and the guys only heard it because of the earpieces they were all wearing. Giving the audience a glorious view of his backside, Kellan sauntered back to his microphone stand. Sliding the equipment back into place, Kellan started playing his guitar. It was miked as well, and the twang echoed around the arena.
They were playing a song that was classic to me, but new to most of the fans here. The crowd ate it up. Kellan’s voice was perfect and powerful; it made a shiver run down my spine. He really was so good at this, so inspiring to watch. As he played, words and storylines filtered through my head. Even though I hated to turn away from Kellan, I decided to not let this creative spark get away from me. As quickly as I could, I dashed away to find some paper. By the time I got back to my spot, the D-Bags had switched songs. Kellan’s guitar was resting near his empty microphone stand, and Kellan was strutting back and forth near the edge of the stage, tantalizing the crowd with his proximity.
Words were tumbling through my brain as his voice drifted past my ears. Watching a movie play out in my head, I jotted down everything I saw. It was a completely different story I was seeing than the tragedy of my past that I had been working on. Switching to something new brought a huge smile to my lips. Writing was so rewarding. And writing while listening to Kellan perform live was darn near euphoric.