You'd Be Mine(18)

A mom speaks up with a knowing grin. “Well, I would have stuck around for Clay, but these girls wanted to make sure they were back here to see you instead.”

A sudden rush of emotion has me biting my lip. At once, I’m backstage with my momma after one of her performances. She’s all glitter and leather, and her hair floats in a gorgeous, feathery halo around her sleek bare shoulders. “Hold tight, Annie May,” she’d whisper to me. “Grab on to my fringe now and don’t get lost. This will only take a minute.” I would peer from her shadow, amazed at the sheer number of fans who would wait for hours backstage for the chance to see my mom for even a second. She’d beam at them all like they were individually precious to her. As a kid, it’d make me jealous to have to share my mom with the world, but right now, I almost understand it. Maybe she couldn’t help herself? The gratitude of another person—a lot of other persons, even—wanting to connect with you over your music?

It’s the best kind of overwhelming.

“Girls. You’ve made my night!” I turn to catch the eye of one of the scary-looking guards watching us curiously. “Can you take our picture?”

The girls let out a collective squeal as the giant, uncomfortable-looking man slowly trudges over to us. I hand him my phone, and the mom hands him hers. Before he can object, I hop over the gate and wrap my arms around the vibrating preteens. “Come on, Momma. You, too,” I say with a wink. “Maybe if we’re lucky, Clay Coolidge himself will walk through that door.” Her face lights up in a full-on beaming grin. “There’s the smile!” I tease.

I take my time, signing whatever the girls shove into my hands, and take a few more pictures. “Did you know y’all are my very first fans?” I ask. “I won’t forget you ladies.”

A light casts over us, and I can tell the back door is opening. I glance out of the corner of my eye. “See? I told you they’d be around.” I wave Kacey over, and she skips to my side. Clay and Fitz trail at a slower pace.

“You guys! My first fans!” I say, feeling a little giddy. Fitz gives me a high five while Clay allows himself a small flicker of amusement. I’m positive he’s rolling his eyes so hard at me, but I don’t care. Even his cool cynicism can’t ruin my moment.

Kacey and I pose together with the girls, and then the mom asks if I would take her photo with Clay, who obliges with a kiss on her cheek, and I have to grin at the thought that her life is basically made with his small gesture.

“Can we get one more of you two?” Since the show is over, the crowd has grown substantially. Now there is plenty of press around, too. The guards are getting edgy, and I know it’s about time we hit the buses. I glance up.

“Which two?” I ask, distracted.

“You and Clay.”

I shrug, and he moves closer to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I try so hard not to blush, thinking of the mom, but he smells unbelievable. Like cologne and spearmint and man-boy, and I’m dizzy with it.

Flashes break out around us, blinding me. “You guys are my favorite new couple!” someone gushes, and I blink, trying to clear my eyes.

“Oh, well—”

“That’s all the time we have for tonight!” Trina announces over the crowd. “These guys have to hit the road. Thank you all for coming out and supporting Clay and Annie!”

My teeth click together, and Clay steers me away before I can say anything. Once we clear the crowd, he drops his hold and hisses under his breath at Trina.

“What the fuck was that? ‘Clay and Annie’?”

“For the record, I was all for clarifying,” I say.

Trina waves us both off, but Clay rounds her and stops her in her tracks. “This isn’t some publicity stunt, Trina. These are our lives we’re talking about.”

My heart starts thrumming in my ears, and my feet stick to the ground, immobilizing me. I’m taken aback at how livid he is. It shouldn’t hurt, but of course it does. This summer is about to be death by a thousand paper cuts.

“Listen, Clay, I can clear it right up. I’ll tweet something tonight, and by tomorrow, your groupies will be all lining up again.”

He does roll his eyes this time. “That’s not the problem. I don’t care about that.” He narrows his eyes at Trina. “It’s one thing to do publicity shoots to garner up press, but the shows are booked. Annie has more than proved her merit tonight. There’s a difference in letting the fans make their own assumptions and feeding them a fake relationship.”

I’m at a loss for words. He’s sticking up for me? Did I hear him say I have merit? It’s not a secret Clay’s in trouble with the label—that I’m part of Operation Clean Clay’s Rep—so his defense of me is all the more stunning.

He huffs at whatever expression is on my face. “Jesus, Annie, don’t look so shocked. I’d have to be an idiot to not see you have talent. And I can promise you Trina knows it, too, so why”—he turns back to her, and I notice she’s leveling him with a calculating glare—“would you use that tone?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She just said, ‘Clay and Annie,’ Clay; it’s not a big—”

“Oh, she knows. Trina does nothing by accident.”