Love Song (Stage Dive #4.7) - Kylie Scott Page 0,24
along fine. They’d be the last damn people to make you feel weird about being in my songs.”
“Even if the lyrics are wrong.”
“I was angry at the time. We already discussed this.”
“Being your muse has its downside. That’s all I’m going to say about the matter,” I said. “So that’s what Martha was talking about? That album was about her? Wow.”
The doorbell rang, and he wiped his hands on a cloth before heading over to answer it. Him making me breakfast and us hanging out in his apartment was a strangely domestic scene. I wanted to feel easy. To be relaxed. Despite the matter of me going on tour not having been raised again, it remained at the forefront of my mind. Also, we were getting along so well it was scary.
To be honest, I kept waiting for something to go wrong. For everything to go wrong.
Adam returned carrying multiple shopping bags bearing the labels of high-end boutiques. “Like I was saying, they keep things casual. But Martha thought you’d like something nice to wear. She got a local place to send some things over so you wouldn’t feel the need to rush home to change or whatever. Sound good?”
“I feel like you’re trying to buy my affection.”
“Bullshit.” He placed the bags on the counter. “If I was doing that, you’d already love me again because of the check. In all honesty, it’d be much easier. But here I am, wooing you.”
“You’re wooing me?” I asked with a smile.
“Me and Martha, apparently. We clearly have a Cyrano de Bergerac thing going on. What has she sent over?” He pulled out a black wool bodycon-style dress with long almost modest Chantilly lace sleeves.
I squealed in untold delight, pushing the remains of my breakfast aside. “That’s new season Valentino. Give it to me.”
The man did as told.
“What else is there?”
He opened a box, pushing aside numerous layers of tissue paper. “Army boots?”
“Louboutin Combat Booties. Oh, look at them, they’re beautiful.” I clicked my fingers. “Gimme.”
“Why didn’t I think of this? I should have thought of this,” he mumbled. “It hasn’t even occurred to you to try and shove this back in my face like you did with the check.”
“They’re so shiny.”
“Ah…underwear, stockings, shit like that.” He reported on the contents of another bag. “This one is jeans and a fluffy sweater.”
“Fluffy? You mean cashmere. How lovely.” I happy sighed. “It’s just like Christmas but better. Your manager has amazing taste.”
“Glad you approve. This one has makeup and some jewelry boxes.”
“Great,” I said. “You wear that battered old black leather jacket over your shirt and I’ll wear the dress and boots and we’ll look amazing. Trust me.”
“Whatever makes you happy.”
“Thought you didn’t take fashion advice.”
He laughed. “I don’t from stylists. But I know enough to do what you tell me.”
“Wise man.”
“So you’re good with going to the party?” he asked, a hint of a smile still lingering about his beautiful mouth.
“Oh. Absolutely.”
* * * *
“Always carry sunglasses and a hat,” directed the Lena Ferris. A fabulous curvy brunette with tortoiseshell glasses perched on her nose. She was married to the singer from Stage Dive, Jimmy Ferris. He was hanging over with the dudes on the other side of the room, drinking beers with my maybe/maybe not boyfriend. Or ex. Whatever. But the moment Adam and I had entered the apartment, the women had surrounded me. It was mildly scary but also kind of thrilling.
“Long hair is useful because if you have your head down, it kind of curtains your face, you know?” Anne demonstrated aptly, letting her red hair hide her. “Nothing to see here.”
Lizzy, married to bass player Ben, sighed and ran a hand through her short, layered blond hair. “I miss being able to do that. Mind you, it only takes me a minute to wash it now, which is awesome.”
“It looks fantastic,” I assured her.
“Thank you.”
“Just don’t do what I did and hold a bag up in front of your face and then proceed to just about walk into a pole.” Evelyn Ferris handed me a glass of white wine. “If Sam the bodyguard hadn’t been there, I’d probably be brain dead now.”
Despite the packages, Martha and her new husband Sam weren’t at the party. They were apparently having alone time while they could get it what with the upcoming tour and everything. I made a mental note to thank her for the shopping next time I saw her. Assuming I saw her again.
“He keeps watching you. It’s so cute.”