Loving Dallas(6)

I still bristle a little at her overly familiar terms of endearment, but I’ve heard her on the phone with her other clients and I know I’m not the only one she uses them on.

“Sounds great.”

The Kickin’ Up Crazy tour is kicking off in Denver, but we’re doing some press first in Nashville. From there we’ll zigzag across the country—Wade on his luxury bus and the rest of us on something a little more modest. Some of the guys in the band grumbled about it, but I couldn’t care less. It’s sure the hell a step up from EmmyLou, the Chevy Express van that me, my sister, Dixie, and my best friend, Gavin, hauled our equipment and ourselves in.

My chest constricts just thinking about Leaving Amarillo. Not the physical act of actually leaving it—that part I was ready for. I just didn’t expect to leave without the other two members of my band.

“You seem a little off, Dallas,” Mandy says as we head to the hotel restaurant where we’re having a quick meeting before I get to crash in my room. “You need to focus on why you’re here. This is about you and your dream. Whatever else is on your mind, you need to have it handled before tomorrow morning.”

“Got it. I’m good. Just a little tired. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.” And a good thorough f*cking would help, I think but don’t say out loud. It feels like it’s been a lifetime since I’ve gotten laid. In reality it’s only been a few weeks since my wild night with Deidre or maybe it was Debra, a waitress I hooked up with in Atlanta. I’m kind of pissed that I was drunk at the time and can’t exactly remember if I was worth a shit or not. Ah well. One-offs are kind of like cold pizza. Not spectacular or worth writing home about, but still enjoyable so not a total waste of time.

While we eat, Mandy says something else about the meeting with the tour sponsors tomorrow and staying focused, but I keep checking my phone to see if Dixie has texted an update on her location and I’m so exhausted my vision is blurring. My manager has a consistent habit of reminding me to keep my eyes on the prize and stop stressing out over what my little sister is up to.

The check comes and Mandy slips a shiny black credit card inside the padfolio before handing it back to the waiter. Before I can thank her, or her management company, I suppose, for dinner, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Retrieving it, I see a photo my sister sent from some cheese monument in God knows where. After that comes one of her grinning like a maniac beside a giant ball of twine. The f*ck?

I’m mildly concerned that she’s having some sort of weird grief-induced breakdown, but every time I talk to her she assures me that she’s fine.

I start to text her a message to call me and let me know her exact coordinates—yes, I’m serious—when Mandy reaches out and places her perfectly manicured nails over the screen of my phone.

Glancing up, I can see that I’ve offended her by texting during out meeting. Pretty ironic since she probably texts in her sleep.

“My sister is on a road trip. She’s alone and I can’t help but—”

“Dallas. Please, please do not make me remind you once again how huge this opportunity is. Wade’s album is number one on every outlet right now. The tour is sold out. And you are on it. Do you even have any idea how hard Neil and I have worked for this? For you?”

I nod, being careful to keep my mouth shut. I know that she and my agent have both worked hard. I’ve worked pretty f*cking hard, too, but that rarely gets mentioned or even acknowledged.

“It’s been a long day. I’m good. Tired. But good. Promise.” Basically a bus and then a tiny hotel room in Nashville have been home for the past few weeks. And I’m about to hop my ass right back on the road tomorrow night. Thank f*ck my sister is ending her little excursion just as this tour is beginning. I really don’t think I could handle this and worrying about her, too.

“Well, get some sleep then. The car will be waiting out front at nine A.M. sharp to take you to the airport.”

I nod while standing up from the table. “Got it. See you in the morning.”

“You’re not walking me to my room?” Mandy pouts. “And here I thought you were a gentleman.”

I swallow the uneasy feeling that rises in my throat. It’s not the first time she’s hinted at crossing the professional line with me and I can’t ever tell just how serious she is.

“I am a gentleman, Miss Lantram. That’s why it’s better if I don’t. Have a good night now.” I grin and make my way quickly out of the room.

There. Maybe she’ll feel flattered.

For as much as Mandy Lantram keeps reminding me to stay focused and keep my eyes on the prize, I’ve noticed her focus and her eyes wandering a bit. To my mouth, across the expanse of my chest, and down to my cock.

More than once.

Either my alarm is going off or the building is on fire.

I roll over and groan, throwing an arm over my face when sunlight hits me square in the face. Stretching as far as my back will allow, I yawn before my hand drops to my morning wood.

Sorry, buddy.

My schedule is so f*cking tight I don’t even have time to jerk off these days. A cold shower and a cold breakfast and then I’m dressed and sliding into a black Lincoln beside my manager.

“Good morning, Superstar,” Mandy purrs while lowering the cell phone that seems permanently attached to her palm. A thick curtain of black hair sweeps over her left shoulder.