“You can always wear whatever you want.” I slip one hand behind her legs and the other around her shoulders, scooping her up into my arms and swinging her in a circle. “I gotcha.”
“Chaser!” Her wild laughter dissolves in the noise of the city.
At the back door, I gently set her down.
“Thanks for the lift.”
“Anytime, little dove.”
The guys have already filled the small storage room in the back of the record store. The owner stops to introduce himself but keeps staring at us like we might disappear at any moment. “Holy shit! I’m so honored to have you here today.” He shakes all of our hands with enthusiasm but stops dead when he reaches Mallory. “Oh my God. I never thought…I never expected you to show up too, Miss Dove. Wow. Thank you so much.”
I swear he’s either about to bow down to her or faint. One or the other.
Mallory beams at him and holds out her hand. “It was a last minute decision. I hope that’s okay.”
One of my possessive caveman arms is wrapped around Mallory like a fuckin’ python, but the dude still takes her hand and pulls it toward his gaping piehole. He leans down and brushes his lips over her knuckles. “It’s an honor. I’ll find an extra chair for you right away.”
I clear my throat and he finally drops her hand.
“Is someone still out there to open the gate?” Alvin asks. “Jacob’s coming by taxi.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll send someone right now,” he promises.
“Did Andrew know you’d be here today?” Mallory asks.
“I don’t think so. Why?”
“I’m worried that we couldn’t find him this morning.”
Yeah, it’s not a good sign but it’s also really not my problem. Andrew’s an adult—sort of. “Let’s get through this afternoon and then I’ll worry about his whereabouts.”
The back door bounces open and Jacob steps through with his arms outstretched. “Your fearless singer has arrived!” he announces.
“Settle down, Rocky.” Alvin rolls his eyes but slaps one of Jacob’s outstretched hands.
Garrett grabs Jacob in a bear hug and bounces him up and down like a big, fat baby. Jacob grins at me over Garrett’s shoulder. “Had you worried, didn’t I?”
“A little bit,” Mallory says.
“Nah, I knew you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to have girls fawn all over you,” I answer. “Pamela get to the airport?”
“Yup, on her way to L.A. now.”
“Good.” Since we can’t get rid of Andrew, hopefully her departure alleviates some of the drama in our lives.
The owner moves us into the store where he’s set up a long row of tables to form one big barrier between us and the rest of the shop. He has an impressive number of Kickstart merchandise, records, tapes, posters, and T-shirts staged at various points along the line for sale. Thom did a good job arranging this at the last minute.
I point to the first chair at the end of the table. “Jacob, you should have that spot. Let your sunny face be the first thing people see when they walk in.”
He salutes me and marches toward the seat facing the front door.
Garrett takes the next chair. Mallory and I set up at the third spot, with Alvin in the chair a few feet to our left.
“Mallory.” The owner drops a medium-sized, thin cardboard rectangular box on the table in front of us. “I found these in the back, if you’d like something to sign too.”
He pulls the lid off, revealing a thick stack of glossy eight by eleven promo posters for ‘Candy Jar’ featuring Mallory in her tiny denim shorts and halter top.
For a brief second her smile falters but she pulls it together and thanks him.
“Are you ready?” he asks, glancing up and down the length of the table. “I’ll have my guys open the doors and start letting them in, if that’s okay.”
Robbie puts his back to the wall at Jacob’s end and crosses his massive arms over his chest. “Ready.”
As soon as the door opens, the volume level in the building shoots up. Girls squeal Jacob’s name and flock to him first. A few skip his line and move down to Garrett. Even more rush straight for me.
I’m handed a variety of items to sign. Robbie walks back and forth, keeping the line moving quickly. The owner moves to the front of the store to work the cash register.
A few hours fly by almost as quickly as time flies when we’re on stage.
I’m about to ask Mallory if she needs me to get her anything to drink when another fan steps up to the table.
“Hi, Chaser.” The smoky voice has a tinge of familiarity to it. I glance up and study the girl in front of us. Teased, curly blonde hair. Pretty face. Bright red lips. “Long time.”
I groan before catching myself and force a bland smile. “Uh, hey.”
Awkward moments are bound to pop up when you’ve fucked groupies from coast to coast. It’s some sort of miracle this hasn’t happened a lot sooner.
That Mallory’s at my side jacks up the awkwardness to an almost painful degree.
“Carrie, yeah?” Fuck, I hope I’m right. I’d rather not be the asshole who forgot a one-night stand’s name in addition to subjecting Mallory to this awkward moment.
“You remember!” She beams at me. “How are you? I wanted to catch you guys last time you played in Union but I couldn’t get a ride.”
“Bummer.”
She leans over the table, all but shoving her tits in my face. I sit back and sling my arm around Mallory’s stiff shoulders.
“Did you want me to sign something?” I drop my gaze to the copy of Metal Edge in her hands.
“Oh. Yes.” Her gaze darts to Mallory and then back to me. “I didn’t realize…” She shoves the magazine at me and I flip through it until I find a photo of the band. Must be from my brief cokehead era. Vacant eyes. Strained smile. Jacob looks like he nodded off in an alleyway and we carried him into the studio and propped him up for the camera. Hell, there’s a good chance it actually happened that way. Fuck if I remember. I sure as hell didn’t agree to the hideous hot pink background we’re staged in front of. The empty bottles of Jack Daniels scattered at our feet give the photo an extra-special sleazy touch.
I scrawl my signature over my dopey face and hand the magazine back. “Thanks.”
Carrie lingers for a few extra seconds.
Please don’t hand me your phone number. Or anything else.
Finally, she slides over to Alvin.
“Old friend?” The tart snap to Mallory’s tone bothers me more than anything else that just happened in the last thirty seconds.
“Ancient.” I glance over but she’s watching Carrie twirl her hair and push her boobs in Alvin’s face.
Mallory shakes her head and shifts her body toward me. She runs her hand over my leg. A reassuring gesture even if she’s not able to express it with words.
“Don’t know how you put up with me,” I mutter.
“Honestly, I’m shocked it hasn’t happened sooner.”
I choke and sputter but thank fuck I stop myself from agreeing.
A few more girls—none that I have intimate knowledge of, thank you, Jesus—approach. They either stone-cold ignore Mallory or give her the stink-eye the whole time they’re chatting me up.
Mallory pretends not to notice, quietly handing me Sharpies or whatever else I need to keep the line moving.
When there’s a break, she grasps her purse in her lap in a white-knuckled death grip. “I should’ve stayed at the hotel. Everyone probably thinks I’m some bitch here to monitor your every move.”
“Hey.” I curl my arm around her and pull her closer. “No one thinks that and if they do, they can fuck off. I want you here. I need you here with me. That’s all that matters.” I jerk my chin at the store owner who hasn’t taken his eyes off Mallory all day. “Besides, who would old ham hands over there have to lust after if you hadn’t come with us?”
“Stop. He’s so nice.” She taps the box of posters he miraculous
ly found in the back room.
“Yeah, crazy how he just had these lying around.” I roll my eyes.
Instead of answering, she tips her head, indicating another fan is lined up for 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 he sneers. “She would have been better off with me.”
“I doubt that. Now, unless there’s business you need me to bring back to my club, or you want my autograph, it’s time for you to leave.”
He hesitates, then pulls something out of his pocket. His asshole attitude vanishes. “Anatoly’s lawyer is working on the appeal. He wants to speak with Mallory but no one knew how to reach her.” He hands me the card. “We want to get him home as soon as possible.” He stares at me as if he has more to say, then seems to realize we’re in a record store full of people and maybe it’s not the best place to discuss family business.
“I’ll make sure she calls him.” I hand Mallory the card and watch her tuck it away in her purse.
“Of course, I’ll call,” she promises.
She stands, pressing herself against my side and I slide an arm around her waist.
“Is he okay?” she asks him in a low voice.
Vasily’s gaze slides over Mallory’s body a little too long for my taste before answering. “You know your father. He is…making friends.”
“I expect nothing less.”
While I have plenty of reasons to dislike Vasily, that’s not the reason I want to put an end to this reunion. The last thing Mallory needs is word spreading that her mobster father’s in prison. The tabloids salivated over a non-existent love triangle when Andrew got shot. If they get wind of a scandal this juicy, they’ll be wolves gnawing on a goat.
Vasily stares down at the table as if noticing the promo material for the first time. He taps one of the ‘Candy Jar’ posters with a perfectly manicured finger. Jesus, is that clear nail polish?
“I cannot believe this is you.” It’s definitely not a compliment coming from his mouth.
Ignoring his disapproving tone, Mallory flashes her camera-ready smile. “Me either.”
“Your father will not approve.”
She shrugs. “He’ll get over it.”
He keeps staring at her as if he’s meeting Mallory for the first time. And I guess in a way he is. It doesn’t seem like anyone in her life ever bothered to get to know the real Mallory.
Anyone until me.
Chapter Twelve
Mallory
“I can’t believe he had the nerve to show up there!” I stare out our hotel room window after hanging up with my father’s attorney.
“What’d the lawyer say?” Chaser asks.
“Not much. I don’t know what he thought I could tell him that would be helpful.” I tap my lip, thinking over the conversation and Vasily’s appearance. “Maybe he used it as an excuse to come see us?”
“Let us know we were on his turf?”
“Yes.”
Chaser shrugs. “He left peacefully and as long as we don’t see his ugly face again, I really don’t care.” He seems to reconsider the day’s events. “I don’t want you out alone while we’re down here, though. You’re with me anytime we’re off the bus or outside. At the show, stick with Robbie, Alvin, or…” he pauses, his face twi
sting in annoyance, “…I hate saying it, Andrew. He’s a pain in the ass but if someone tried to mess with you, he’d fuck them up.”
“You think so?”
“I do.”
I slide over and wrap my arms around his middle, leaning against him. “I don’t plan to let you out of my sight, so it won’t be a problem.”
“Good.” He bends down and kisses the tip of my nose. “Exactly how I like it.”
“You really didn’t mind having me there today?”
“Nope. Felt good having you by my side.”
He says it without hesitation and that finally erases my doubts about the afternoon. Even the girl who so obviously showed up to bang my boyfriend is forgotten. “Did your father say when he’s arriving?”
“Early tomorrow afternoon. Half the club’s coming with him. Thom gave me all sorts of shit about finding backstage passes for everyone.”
I roll my eyes. “If they can magically come up with passes for groupies every night, he can find enough for family members.”
“That’s basically what I told him.”
Someone pounds against our hotel door. Intuition says it’s Andrew. I sigh as Chaser opens the door. I don’t have the energy for his crazy antics tonight.
“She left me. She really left and went home.”
“I’m sorry.” Chaser pats Andrew’s shoulder as he barrels into our room.
“Did you take her to the airport?” Andrew asks.
“No, Jacob did.”
“Did he fuck her?” Andrew’s eyes widen. “Be honest.”
Chaser slams the door shut. “I didn’t ask to sniff his dick. Settle down.”
“Sorry.” He glances up and finally seems to notice I’m in the room. “Hey, Mallory. I bet she told you all about it, didn’t she?”
“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.”
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