Loving Dallas - Caisey Quinn Page 0,31
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.”
“Thanks.” Taking a deep breath while we smile for the photo, I rack my brain trying to remember playing San Antonio last year. Nothing memorable comes to mind, but judging from the knowing look in her eyes and how forward she’s being with my body right now, she might have carnal knowledge of me.
Damn. This is not good.
I make a mental note to ask Mandy what I should do in these situations. I haven’t exactly been a saint and the last thing I want to do at this point in my career is get a reputation as a player or an asshole.
She bats her eyelashes at me. “Will I see you after the show tonight? Some of us are going to a bar called Kelly’s. You should come.”
Her eyes meet mine on the last word and I’m pretty sure I don’t imagine the innuendo.
“Um, I don’t know.”
After an awkward pause, she says, “I’ll text you.” Then she gives me a lingering look full of dirty promises and moves aside so the next person in line can get their picture made.
My phone buzzes a few times in my pocket and I check it once the line has subsided.
Someone with the number 555-213-9857 has sent me several messages. One of them is a picture of me and Chandra, the overzealous fan, at a bar. My arms are around her and she’s kissing