“Just the highlights.” Please let my evasive answer be enough to escape this conversation.
“I’m such a stupid asshole,” he moans.
“Yeah,” I agree.
“Hey.” Chaser taps Andrew’s chest with the back of his hand. “Listen up. I need you to do me a favor tomorrow.”
Andrew seems to set aside his misery and straightens up. “What?”
“We had a guy show up to see Mallory today. A sort of ex. I don’t want him bothering her tomorrow at the show. So, if I’m occupied, you think you can look out for her? Make sure no one’s hassling my girl?”
“Yeah. I can do that.” Andrew’s gaze shifts between Chaser and me. “You okay, Mallory?”
Still shocked Chaser made the request, I only nod.
“My family will be there, so you can still go on about your regular business.” Chaser rolls his eyes. “But just in case, look out for her, okay?”
“You got it.” Andrew slaps Chaser on the back a few times. “Are you guys meeting us for dinner?”
“We’ll be down in a few.”
“Cool!” He waves at me before taking off, slamming the door behind him.
“Why would you do that?” I ask.
Chaser strips off his T-shirt and tosses it near our bags. “Do what?”
Trying not to get distracted by inked pecs and perfect abs, I answer, “Bring Andrew any closer to my family…stuff by asking him to watch over me.” I follow him into the bedroom.
“Two reasons. One, I actually want as many people looking out for you as possible. Two, it’ll give him something to do so he stops whining about Pamela. Make him feel useful. Half the time I think that’s his problem. Not enough responsibility.”
“Careful, Chaser.” I bite my lip and stare as he strips out of his jeans. “Don’t let his irresponsibility become your responsibility.”
“Too late for that.”
Chapter Thirteen
Mallory
Excited energy combined with a let’s-get-it-over-with attitude seems to permeate the mood backstage the next afternoon. Alvin’s busy picking at the buffet table set up for us, while Andrew demands my attention.
“Feels like the longest tour of my life,” Andrew moans, rubbing a hand over his side.
“Does it still hurt?” I ask. “You really should’ve rested a few more days before getting back on the road.”
“Fuck that. You know how long some of those kids probably saved to buy their tickets?”
“That’s sweet but I bet they’d rather know their favorite drummer was in good health.”
“Not their problem.”
I can’t help but be touched by his concern for his fans.
“Have you heard from Pamela?” he asks with hopeful puppy eyes.
“Not yet.” I want to add we’re not exactly that close, but don’t see the point.
He reaches over to the large, metal tub someone placed on the floor. It’s full of ice, sodas, beer, and a few bottles of champagne. Shoving a hand into the pile of ice cubes, he pulls out a dripping can of 7-Up and hands it to me.
“Thanks.” Even though I didn’t ask, I am thirsty, so I pop the top and I swipe at droplets of water that landed on my leg.
“You look hot.” He sweeps his gaze over me from head to toe. “Did I mention that?”
“You did. Several times.” Worried I’ll accidentally flash someone, I stand and tug the short leather dress down.
“Careful,” Andrew murmurs, eyes glued to my chest.
“Shoot.” This was a mistake. The thin little straps don’t do much to keep the dress up and every time I try to pull the skirt down, I’m in danger of my boobs falling out.
“You want a T-shirt to wear over it?” he offers, picking up a black backpack and rummaging through the contents.
I glare at him. “I’m not falling for that again.”
“Not that T-shirt.” He tosses a grungy black shirt my way that smells like it hasn’t been washed once on the whole tour. And eww, is it crusty?
“Pew!” I yelp and throw it back in his lap. “Did something die in there?”
“Oh, yeah. Whoops. A thousand potential little Andrews.” He shoves his nose in it and sniffs. “Sorry. Wrong shirt.”
“Gross.” Vomit burns the back of my throat. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I have a clean one here somewhere.” He opens the backpack wider and tosses items around.
“It’s fine, Andrew.” Ignoring his protests, I grab the short denim vest I brought with me off the end of the couch. I slip it on, buttoning it half-way. “Does that look okay?”
He sits back and rubs his hand over his chin. “From a red-blooded male perspective, it’s better without the vest in the way. But