I half expect to hear a ‘fuck you’ behind me as I dismissively walk away, but I don’t. I guess they’re used to cocky rock stars. I duck into the dressing room, upset with myself for the nasty comment, and vow never to become a stereotype, no matter how famous we get.
I’m collecting my things when I hear the backup singer’s voice again through the speakers in the room. She’s singing with Adam, then she sings a short solo. It’s so powerful it makes me stop what I’m doing.
What the hell is happening to me?
I turn off the sound, grab my shit, and call for an Uber.
Chapter Three
Bria
Exhausted from the concert, and let’s face it, almost three months of being on the road, I lie in bed, listening to Reckless Alibi. They’ve opened for White Poison twice, and their music touches me in a way I can’t explain. It’s so personal. It’s like their singer, Chris Rewey, is singing to someone every time. Lucky girl.
My phone pings with a text.
Adam: How about a little shag before we retire? I won’t keep you up late, luv. I promise.
Me: I’m so tired.
Adam: Too tired for me already, are you?
I sigh and let my head fall back against the pillow. I know all too well the position I’m in. He can have anyone he wants, and he chose me. But I’m not a fool. I know thousands of women are waiting in the wings. It’s why I try so hard not to rock the boat. Our relationship is still new. I admonish myself even before I send the text. I let him win too much. On the other hand, I knew going into this he was the one in control.
Me: Give me an hour.
Adam: That’s what I like to hear, poppet.
I throw my phone on the bed because that’s exactly what I am—his puppet. It’s a term of endearment, but it’s hardly endearing. He pulls my strings to get me to do what he wants.
A few weeks ago, when we were in Chicago, I wanted him to take me shopping to a few places I’d heard of but had never been to. Instead of accompanying me, he hired a car. In New Orleans, when I wanted to check out a famous nightclub, he got one of the male roadies to take me. He doesn’t realize I want to do those things with him. As a couple.
Now that I think about it, what have we really done together? We never go out unless his entourage is with him. The only time we have romantic dinners is when he has them catered in his suite.
As I freshen up, I stare at myself in the mirror. “It’s the tour. It’s stressful for everyone. Things will change in a few weeks when it’s over.”
I smile. Convinced I’m one hundred percent right.
I check my watch. I got ready a lot faster than I thought, but I head up anyway.
As I enter the elevator to go up to the private floor the band has booked for themselves, I wonder where Reckless Alibi is staying. I know they aren’t here. I’ve never seen any of the opening acts at the same hotel, and it has me wondering if White Poison wants it that way. Then again, we stay in hotels most people can’t afford.
The elevator doors open, and I show the credentials hanging on the lanyard around my neck.
“Is Mr. Stuart expecting you?” one of his goonies asks.
You’d think after almost three months, his security team would get that I’m his girlfriend, but they ask anyway. “He asked me to come up,” I say a little too harshly.
Freddie, their manager, sees me and runs down the hall. “Piss off, Cole.” He pulls me into the sitting room. “Darling, Bria. Let me pour you a drink.”
“But Adam is expecting me.”
“He’ll only be a moment. He’s finishing up with a meeting.”
“At this hour?”
He pulls out his phone and taps on it. “Fame and fortune never sleep, my dear.”
I take a glass from him and stare into the brown liquor. “Freddie, will it ever change? When we’re not on tour, I assume things won’t be as difficult or complicated.”
He sits down next to me. “Being on tour is the hardest and most rewarding part of doing what we do. It won’t be as difficult once this is all over.” He gives me a sympathetic look. “Complicated—that’s a whole other ballgame.”