their money, but you can’t give that back. I won’t disappoint them.”
“That’s exactly what you’ll do if you go over there. They want something that we can’t give them, Braxton. Not now, maybe never. We’re expected to act like friends, like we can stand to breathe the same air. We can’t.”
I considered his point. I knew surliness couldn’t be the reason Houston, Loren, and Rich would be willing to turn their fans away. Bound was the glass bottle they used to trap their emotions.
On stage, they were free to let them run wild.
Once the lights died, they shoved it all back inside, keeping it corked until the next show.
The problem with glass was that it shattered under pressure.
Rage, defiance, and sorrow were all they had to give, so they channeled it into their music and harnessed it on stage. They showed their ugly truth through a beautiful lens. The world believed that it was all a performance, and they let them because rejection was almost certain.
Obscurity protected them.
Until now, I assumed they were immune. I thought their devil-may-care attitude was the truth behind the façade. It wasn’t. It was the mask itself.
And what of my own need to dissimulate?
Tonight, I’d stumbled my way through the setlist because I couldn’t get past the sex occupying every corner of my mind. If it weren’t for the meet-and-greet, I’d have gone after Loren, maybe cornered Rich, or convinced Houston to let go once more.
Spoiler alert: It would have been a lie.
I was incapable of not wanting more. I warned them as much at the festival.
Running back to the bus and hiding sounded like a no-brainer—until I remembered that I was on this tour to do the opposite.
“So what?” I said, pissing Houston off enough to fry an egg on his head. “You think they’re looking for perfection? Your pain is what called to them, Houston. They won’t turn away. Not as long as you keep giving them something real.”
“Flaws over frauds,” Rich mumbled behind me.
I flashed him a grateful smile over my shoulder.
Yeah.
Flaws over frauds.
Braxton and Rich took off for the group before I could stop them. If she wanted to learn the hard way, who was I to object? I’d never be bored, that was for goddamn sure. She was perfect smiles and bright eyes as she greeted the group eager to meet her, while Rich hovered like her goddamn lady-in-waiting.
Resigned to whatever this night turned into, I headed for the opposite side of the room. There, from my perch on the sofa, I clocked every move Braxton made.
Five minutes passed, ten, and then fifteen.
I’d just managed to relax when Loren showed his face.
Leaning forward, the knot in my belly returned as I watched the public relations nightmare make a beeline for her. I wouldn’t put it past him to purposely say or do something that would piss Braxton off and make everyone uncomfortable.
If I were forced to make another public apology because of him, I was breaking every bone in his body.
He was barely in the room before Braxton noticed him. She tensed with each step he took toward them. I could tell even from here that she was holding her breath. He’d completely stolen her attention. When he reached the group, Loren waited until the last second before it was awkward to hold out his hand. The guy closest to him shook it vigorously, and Braxton visibly relaxed.
Knowing the group would eventually make their way over to me, I waved over one of the roadies waiting nearby and had him lay out some free merchandise on the table in front of me. They might have been here to meet Braxton, but there was no way that I’d get away with brooding alone in the corner. Not as Bound’s front man.
I loved meeting the people who connected with our music. Just not so much when I wanted to choke Braxton while fucking the shit out of her. It was all I could think about. We were playing with fire, but they pretended it didn’t burn.
Ten minutes later, I was shaking hands and signing T-shirts. Another half-hour and I was waving them out the door. I turned to Braxton the moment we were alone.
Well, mostly.
“Good job,” I told her once I had her attention. I wanted to say more, perhaps something less condescending, but my lips wouldn’t move.
The blank look she gave me told me she wasn’t flattered. “I didn’t do it to impress you.”