me to talk to.
Please, not another groupie.
With a deep breath, I turn and run my gaze over the freckle-faced kid who can’t be older than eleven or twelve.
“Chaser! You’re my favorite guitar player ever,” he gushes at warp speed while shoving several cassette tapes at me. “‘Cry it Out’ is the first song I learned to play.”
“Yeah?” I answer, pulling out the insert and tapping it with my Sharpie. “That’s really cool. Thanks.”
He nods for me to sign it and fires off question after question.
“What’s the first song you learned to play? Do you ride a motorcycle? I want a Harley when I can get my license. Is that what you have? Who’s your favorite guitar player? How did you guys meet and start the band?”
None of the answers are things I haven’t said in dozens of interviews before but I indulge his barrage of questions, charmed by his enthusiasm.
“What’s your name?” I finally ask when he takes a breath.
“Reed.”
I nod as I take a Sharpie to the poster he hands me next.
Reed,
Never stop rocking.
Chaser Adams.
Yeah, it’s a little clichéd but I haven’t come up with anything better yet.
Reed’s hyper-speed mouth goes on lock down when his gaze lands on Mallory.
“Would you like me to sign one?” Mallory taps the ‘Candy Jar’ posters. His jaw drops and he slowly nods, tongue wagging in the breeze.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “You’re so pretty. I, wow. You’re so beautiful,” he keeps repeating, his favorite guitar player completely forgotten.
Sweeter than candy, Mallory smiles and thanks him. She taps her Sharpie against the poster for a few beats before writing,
Reed,
Always follow your dreams.
Love,
Mallory
Clearly Mallory’s better at this than I am. Pale-faced and slack-jawed, he stares at the message for a few seconds. Poor kid’s gonna faint. Finally, a guy I’m assuming is his father nudges him down the line.
Mallory can’t stop grinning. “He was so adorable,” she whispers.
“He’d probably die of embarrassment if he heard you say that.”
“Aw, hey, man. Will you sign this?” Someone tosses a piece of paper in front of me. I glance up and instantly peg the meathead in front of us for a douche. We get these types a lot. Guys itching to pick a fight. Whether it’s jealousy, small dick syndrome, or pure assholery, I’ve never figured out. It’s better not to engage.
“Sure,” I answer in a bland tone. “How you doin’?”
He shrugs. “Cool.” His gaze slides to Mallory and I brace myself. While I don’t give a fuck if he’s rude to me, disrespecting my girl is a line he better not cross.
“Mallory Dove. I’d kill to slide my hand in your candy jar.” He slowly winks as if he just uttered the most brilliant come-on ever.
Mallory flicks an indifferent glance at him.
“Take ya a while to come up with that one?” I ask, slipping an arm around Mallory’s shoulders.
He shrugs. “It’s a lame fuckin’ song but she was hot in the video.”
“Thanks for stoppin’ by.” I sweep my arm in front of me in a move-it-along gesture and he finally shuffles away.
Mallory scrunches her nose at his back. “What a jerk,” she whispers to me.
“We get guys like that all the time.”
She glares down the table at him where he’s busy hassling Alvin. Good luck to him. Alvin has even less patience than I do for that bullshit.
“He’s probably a failed musician,” she says under her breath.
“Maybe. Best not to give them the reaction they’re seeking. It annoys them more if they can’t get a rise out of you.”
“Sure. Otherwise, you hand him a great story to tell for the rest of his life. ‘This one time, Chaser Adams punched me.’”
I shake with laughter and squeeze her closer. “Pretty much.”
Unfortunately, he’s not our last asshole of the day. No, a much bigger dickweed steps up to us next. In his preppy polo shirt, neatly tucked into a pair of pleated pants, he sticks out like a preacher at an orgy.
“Vasily. Good to see ya, buddy.” I flash a big ol’ grin at him. “Got something for me to autograph?”
Ignoring me, he glances down at Mallory. “You are joking, right?” He thrusts his hand in my direction. “This is what you chose?”
I stand and place my hands on the table, leaning in between him and Mallory. “Don’t look at her. You have something to say, say it to me. Those were the terms of our arrangement, right?” I say in a lower voice, reminding him Mallory’s untouchable and under my club’s protection.
His ice-cold eyes meet mine and