she looked me in the eye. “We roll out tomorrow morning, the bus will stay here to keep the fans from mobbing the hotel. I'll send a car. If you need anything, just call.”
The meaning in her voice wasn't lost on me. Glancing at Lola, I finished my donut. There won't be an encore of shitty security guards attacking her this time.
Porter grabbed another pastry, crumbs spilling over his chin. “What time do we need to be back here?”
“You're on at seven, so be here by four at the latest for sound check.” Her smile spread, fixing on Lola. “Here, take a look. These are being plastered all over the Fillmore website, as well as in our newsletter and every social media outlet we have our claws in.” She slid a thick folder across the table.
Lola eyed it, uncertainty turning her pretty mouth into a knot. It only got worse when she opened the folder, revealing the glossy prints inside. “Oh, holy shit.”
Holy shit indeed.
The photos from yesterday were stunning. Lola was a vision, the blue of her eyes made even crisper by saturation. She was poised in front of the bus window, lashes lowered to create a canopy. Lola's smile contained too many secrets.
I knew I'd need to taste her so I could start to understand.
Shifting in my chair, I fought down the surge of arousal. I'd have to get a copy of those pictures.
“Well,” Brenda prompted, “What do you think? Good, right?”
Sliding her hand over the prints, Lola said, “These don't look anything like me.”
Brenda rolled her eyes, pulling the folder back. “Sure they do! They're just doctored up some. That's normal, everyone does it.”
Doubtful, Lola poked at the other half of her donut. “If you say so.”
The rest of the meeting was a blur, I was too busy staring at the girl I was so addicted to. Letting Brenda ramble, I tuned out for the first time in my years of singing professionally. Normally, I was keen on these meetings. They kept problems from happening.
I hated problems.
Now, I was twitching one boot over my opposite crossed ankle. Each movement matched my heart, thumping to a tune—a song—that had been forming for two days now. Lola was a single lyric. I wanted to say her name over and over until I owned her like I did all of my music.
When Brenda waved at us to leave, I shrugged out of my daze like it was a heavy jacket I could shed. Our group started to head for the exit. Lola was dragging her feet, lost in thought.
She's getting overwhelmed. Those photos really bothered her.
Wishing I could erase her gloom, an idea hit me. My fingers snapped out, curling firmly around her wrist. “I want to show you something.”
Under my touch, her goosebumps prickled. She froze on the spot. “What?”
Porter and Colt turned back, expecting us to be following. I gave them a tiny nod. “Go on ahead. I want to give Lola a look inside.”
Understanding spread between them. “Sure,” Porter said. “We'll meet you at the hotel.”
Free of their stares, I tugged Lola further into the hall. She came reluctantly, tension in her steps. “A look inside? But why?”
Because I want to see you smile. Of course, I said no such thing. Setting my jaw, I led her deeper into the Fillmore. The halls were tunnels, we were explorers, and I knew where the treasure was.
Together, we broke out into the main room of the building. I'd seen the stage before; when I was a child, my dad had slipped us into the upper levels to view the band from above.
This time, I gazed around a wide room full of people organizing wires and lights. The vast size of the space was enhanced with all of the empty seats. Next to me, Lola gasped. The sound danced right to my center.
I still held her wrist, and for a heartbeat, I almost linked our fingers. Releasing her, I gestured with my head. “How's it look?”
Her answer was pure, her lips showing off her perfect teeth. “Beautiful.”
No. It's your smile that's beautiful, I thought.
She whispered, “I'm actually standing here.” She felt the moment in its entirety; how heavy it was, like a piece of fruit ready to fall to the earth and explode. “I'll be playing music in front of thousands of people tonight.”
Peering at her hip, I watched her hands clench. “Does that scare you?” I asked.
Lola met my gaze with one of her own. The severity boiling deep