Loving Dallas(25)

“You’re really not going to give me any details?” Katie whines as I step into my four-inch heels.

I can already tell how badly my feet are going to hurt later. Between these shoes and my night with Dallas, I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’m a masochist.

“I’m going to give you lots of details. That’s why I called.”

She squeals and I grin wickedly in the mirror above the bathroom sink.

“First, make sure the VIP sections are spaced far enough apart for separate lines. Jase’s line will be crazy long so make sure it doesn’t interfere with any of the entrances or exits or crowd flow into the amphitheater. Second, make sure you upload the pictures Drew takes to the cloud so that I can access them and get them to the social media guys. Third—”

“You are no fun,” Katie interrupts flatly.

“I was plenty of fun last night. Today is about business.”

“I don’t think I like you anymore.” There’s a smile in her voice so I’m not too worried.

“Yeah, yeah. You love me. Anyway, I need to go but I’ll text you the rest, okay?”

“Got it.” Katie’s quiet for a moment before she says, “Hey, Robyn?”

“Yeah?” I give my hair one last tousle with my free hand.

“Um, it really is none of my business. And I am totally not judging you because I don’t think a girl in the world would’ve been able to turn that guy down after the show he put on last night, but . . .”

I freeze where I’m standing, hand still in my hair, while I wait for her to finish.

“It’s just . . . it’s him. So . . .”

I sigh and let my hand fall. “Just say it, Katie-O. Whatever it is, just say it.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing. And that you don’t get hurt like before.”

Staring at my too-wide eyes in the mirror, I ask myself if I know what I’m doing. My brain morphs into a Magic 8 Ball that only answers me with “outlook not so good.”

“Me, too, Katie. Me, too.”

I woke up alone.

Feeling cheap and used.

I had a great time, girl.

But you left me sore and abused.

Song lyrics. Dallas is texting me song lyrics in the middle of the ceremony that has already dragged on entirely too long. I smile at the screen and place my phone on my lap beneath the tablecloth so I don’t appear rude to my table companions.

You rocked my world, turned it upside down.

Now you’re nowhere to be found.

The alert chimes again. More lyrics.

Do you miss me, girl? Remember how you kissed me, girl?

’Cause I have to speak the truth, there’s not much I wouldn’t do to wake up holding you.

I should wrangle my dignity. Should play it cool for a while. But I miss those lips. I miss that smile.

I type out a quick response text. This your next hit? Do I get a cut?

His response comes almost immediately.

Maybe. I’m still trying to find a word that works with “slapped.”

I laugh out loud, stifling it the best I can, when an older gentleman to my left startles at my outburst. No one can see my phone so I don’t look rude, just crazy.

I told you I was sorry about that, I type out quickly.

It was pretty hot. I’m tough. I can take it if you like it rough.

Well now he’s just being inappropriate. I’m not sure if it’s an actual response or a lyric. And I’m squirming in my seat.

I don’t have a witty comeback yet so I just text him that I need to get back to my ceremony.

I’ll keep you posted on the song.

I stare at his words, my eyes zeroing in on the first three. I have got to get a grip on myself.

Thanks. Have a great show tomorrow night.

After that, I ignore my phone and focus on the speeches and awards. But Dallas Lark is holding a blowtorch, steadily burning a hole in my steel wall—one I don’t know how to protect myself against.





15 | Dallas

I’M SEEING SPOTS. BRIGHT ONES. BLINDING ONES.

Cameras flash from directly in front of me as I pose with fans.

Fans.

I have fans.

It’s kind of hard to wrap my head around. The band had a few regulars who attended shows at certain bars, but I think that was more about the bars than us.

“Thank y’all for coming out,” I say to two girls wearing matching If Lost Return to Dallas Walker T-shirts. Melissa and Jessica, I think they said their names were. But I still can’t get over the fact that I have shirts. “Love the shirts, by the way.” I wink and they laugh, the blond one turning a little red in the face.

Some fans are sweet like that.

And some are a little more than sweet.

“Remember me?” A brunette with a wide smile stands beside me for her picture.

I try to place her face but I can’t. “Um . . .”

“Chandra. I saw your band play in San Antonio last year. I was in town visiting a friend. We hung out after your show.”

“Did we?” I put my arm around her shoulders like I’m supposed to for the picture. “Sorry. It’s been a crazy year.”

“I can imagine,” she says softly, pressing her full breasts firmly into my side. “Congratulations, by the way. My sorority sisters and I are your number-one fans. Your album is going to blow Jase Wade out of the water.”