want me to wait—for real? And why? Maybe he wants to give me a signed souvenir? It would make sense. Embarrass the fuck out of some girl and then give her an autographed T-shirt.
“Nic,” I call her over because there is no way I’m not telling someone.
“Yeah?”
“He wants me to wait after the show,” I yell in her ear.
Her face brightens. “No way!”
“It’s got to be a misunderstanding, right?” I ask.
“Or he wants you.”
“No!” She’s on crack. There’s no way in hell he “wants” me. That’s dumb.
“He already knows you love him.” She smirks.
“Whatever. There’s no way I am going to wait.”
“The hell you aren’t!” Nicole crosses her arms. “We’re staying. We’re going to find out what Eli Walsh wants because you’d be an idiot not to.”
Yeah, I’m an idiot all right—not because I don’t want to meet him but because I do. Very much.
Chapter 3
Eli
“Good show,” Adam says as he cracks his neck. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”
“You are old.”
“You’re older than I am,” Adam reminds me.
Even though I’m forty-two, I enjoy the rush of performing. I’d just like it not to be so rough on my aging body. I don’t remember having to take this many painkillers a few years ago, but between the traveling, shit food, and performing—I feel old as fuck.
Even though I love acting much more than I thought I would, I love the fans more. I don’t have this kind of fun when I’m stuck on a set all day.
I look over at my brother, “Randy is older than all of us, so there’s that.”
“Fuck off,” Randy tosses back. “We’ve got a few weeks before we need to meet up again since the tour is over. I’m going to head home to Savannah. She said the kids are acting up. It’s time for Daddy to come lay the smack down.”
“Right.” I laugh. Those kids have him wrapped around his finger. “We all know Vannah is who they listen to.”
“Don’t piss in my Cheerios.”
“We’re heading out to the meet and greet.” Shaun slaps my leg. “You coming?”
I gave my manager strict instructions to get that girl back here. I practically drew him a map on how to find her. She better be there or I’m canning his ass. I loved watching her face while I sang to her. She was like a deer in the headlights as I laid it on thick. I almost lost my shit when she yelled out that she loved me. She couldn’t cover her face fast enough.
It was cute.
I like cute.
I also haven’t gotten laid in about a month, so this seems perfect. Especially if she’s good in bed. Plus, since we’re done touring and my mother has been up my ass about spending time with her, I’m sticking around Tampa for a few weeks anyway. It may be nice to have a distraction until I start filming the next season of A Thin Blue Line in two months.
“Let’s go meet the people.” I stand, stretching my arms over my head. What I want to say is, “Let’s go find the blonde.”
We’re contractually obligated to attend a meet and greet at every show. I fucking hate it. It’s always the same shit. We sit back in the lounge and drink while girls tell us the same things over and over. I’m glad they love us. I’m glad they’ve been listening to us since they were thirteen, but I don’t give a shit. It only reminds me how old I am.
If she’s there, though, I’m going to thoroughly enjoy myself. I’m going to watch those brown eyes fill with pleasure while I make her lose her mind.
“You had Mitch bring the blonde back, huh?” Randy asks as he throws shit in his bag.
“Yup.”
The guys leave the room while I hang back to talk to Randy.
He chuckles. “You’re going to knock up one of these girls someday.”
I roll my eyes. “The fuck I am. I learned that lesson on our first world tour. I’ve been at this for twenty years and haven’t had that happen yet. No mini Elis or Eliettes running around here.”
“That you know of,” Randy retorts.
We could go back and forth, but the one thing is . . . I’m careful. There’s no freaking way I’m getting saddled with some kid from a groupie. I know better. Plus, Mitch is a scary prick. We’re his bread and butter. No way does he want some stupid shit taking away from his chance to make money. I know firsthand