Loving Dallas - Caisey Quinn Page 0,52
happy as he would be if he’d made it with his band intact.
“It is. Or at least, I think it is.”
I angle around so that I can look him in the face. “You think it is?”
He pulls me closer, kissing me lightly on the lips. “Yeah. For the most part. It’s like there’s been an exchange of sorts, one I didn’t realize I’d agreed to.”
“I’m gonna need you to man-’splain that to me, please.”
He lets out a small chuckle, then sighs and I feel his chest rise and fall. “It’s like I agreed to be this version of myself I didn’t expect to have to be. Dallas Walker. Performer Dallas.”
I don’t say anything as I settle back into the spooning position so he continues on.
“Dallas Lark is ‘real me,’ you know? The one that you’ve known for years. The one who harasses his sister constantly to make sure she’s okay. I had a cheeseburger and a slice of apple pie alone in a diner on my birthday and realized that I was actually homesick for a place I’d been planning to leave since the day I arrived. But nobody really knows that guy—the one who has pie alone or gets to come back to you after each show and has the pleasure and privilege of tasting and touching you, of filling you and watching you come undone while I—”
“Dallas!” I call out, interrupting him suddenly. “I get the picture. Either move on or we’re not going to finish this conversation.”
He laughs low in my ear when I wiggle my backside against him.
“I don’t know. It’s just, I didn’t realize that I’d have to cut myself in half, be the two different guys. But that’s the price, apparently. I lose my last name but I get to live my dream every night. I don’t know if it’s an even exchange either way.”
My fingers aren’t tracing arbitrary circles anymore. They’re following the intricate lines of the tattoo that covers his inner forearm. The one that says “Lark” in script.
“Promise me something,” I say so low I don’t know if he can hear me. “Promise me no matter what, you’ll never lose that guy, the one you really are.”
His arms tighten around me like a reverse hug and I’m not sure which one of us needs it more.
“I’ll try not to.”
25 | Dallas
NOT GOING TO MAKE YOUR SHOW THIS WEEKEND. HAVE TO WORK. Couldn’t get anyone to trade shifts. Sorry, man.
Gavin’s text reads like a load of bullshit.
I heavily suspect the coward is avoiding my sister, but I’ve vowed to let her be a big girl and not interfere with her personal life so I text him back that I understand and that I hope he can drop by the after party.
After five straight weeks on the road, we’re playing in Dallas and it feels kind of good to be home or close to home at least. It’s nice to see familiar landmarks and highways anyway.
Today I’m doing radio interviews in Dallas. I text Dixie while I wait in the lobby of KGBX, reminding her that her and Robyn’s mom’s tickets will be at will-call and that the backstage passes will be with them.
“Dallas Walker,” a rail-thin slip of a woman in a pencil skirt calls out. “They’re ready for you. Come with me.”
I stand and follow her down a dim hallway to the recording studio. The publicist Mandy put me in touch with pulled some strings to get me on the nationally syndicated Ricky Ray show while I was in town. It’s a huge opportunity, but I’m nervous because I have no idea what he’s going to ask. Ricky is known for asking the tough questions and I’ve been strictly instructed not to answer any involving Jase Wade or his personal life.
My palms are slick so I wipe them on my jeans before shaking the hands of the folks who greet me when the receptionist opens the door.
“Dallas Walker, nice to meet you,” a smiling brunette with headphones on tells me. “Just have a seat right there.” She gestures to an empty seat on the edge of the L-shaped table. “Be sure you speak clearly into the mic.”
“Got it.”
“He can manage, Kim. That’s what he does for a living,” the man on the other side of the table says. “That’s Kim Le. I’m Ricky Ray.”
I nod at Kim and then reach across a switchboard and shake his hand. “Nice to meet you both. Thank you for having me today.”
“Thanks for joining us.