“I’m not interested in raiding anyone’s stash, but drinking does seem to factor into some of the complaints around your concerts.” Duncan held up a finger like he was scoring a point. “It’s something to monitor, and I’ve instructed the venue people to keep an eye out for anyone in the audience who’s had too much.”
“As long as they’re not rude about it.” I made a face because while I saw the need to police rowdy behavior to avoid further incidents, I hated imposing rules. “People come to our shows to have a good time, relax, unwind, and I don’t want to harsh the vibe they’ve come to expect. Giving our fans a good time, that’s important to me.”
“Well, keeping them—and you—safe, that’s important to me.” He stared me down, more of that too-serious energy passing between us. He cared, weirdly so, and he could be an uptight prick about it, but there was no denying that he took his job seriously. And there was something about that commitment to his work that was sexy. I’d never been one to find protectiveness a turn-on, but here we were, gazes linked, time slowing. My tongue didn’t wait for permission, darting out to lick my lips like I was some teenager alone with his crush for the first time.
“Ezra!” Kate’s voice echoed as she charged toward us, saving me from whatever I’d been about to say. Or do. “Can’t you stay put for ten minutes? I’ve got some VIPs and media waiting.”
“I’m on it.” I swiveled to face her, pasting on a grin. “Lead the way, boss.”
“I’ll come along.” Duncan was right behind us. Too close. “Backstage security is a particular concern here with how the place is laid out.”
“At some point, you need to chill and enjoy the show.” I kept my voice light but pointed. Duncan needed to find a happy place between red alert and go-with-the-flow.
“Wait.” Kate stopped partway to the stage area. She was usually all-business before a show, not unlike Duncan, but she laughed, shaking her head. “Have you even heard Ezra or the band before? It’s kind of hilarious if you’re working the tour and aren’t familiar with the music.”
“I’ve heard some of the songs.” Duncan’s tone was cagey enough that I, too, had to laugh and point at him.
“You’re a fan,” I crowed happily.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” His mouth twisted as he waved away my accusation. “And isn’t your ego big enough without my fandom adding to it?”
“Never.” We resumed walking, all three of us chuckling, but there was some truth to that. I was one hundred percent a praise whore, and I owned that. I loved the spotlight, loved the awards and adoration, loved knowing I’d moved people. Fans were proof I was doing my job right.
“This is the Ezra experience,” Kate stage-whispered to Duncan as we neared the backstage entrance. “It only comes in jumbo-sized. Better get used to it.”
“I’ll try.” Duncan sounded as wary as I expected, like he had no intention of enjoying this evening or this trip.
Fine. Let him be miserable. I followed Kate to greet the local media members who had arrived and tried not to roll my eyes at Duncan checking everyone off on the VIP backstage list. Instead of worrying about Duncan, I leaned into my pre-show energy, bouncing around, making the visitors laugh, hyping up the band members, and winding myself tighter and tighter until the opening cords of our intro played. I sprung into action, all that anticipation coming out in my whoop as we took the stage.
Fuck anyone who didn’t understand what this meant to me. Performing was everything, the rush of applause feeding my addiction to the high of being on stage, and I threw myself into each song, even more than usual. My dance moves were sharper, my high notes higher, my runs longer. I was on fire, and as much as I tried to tell myself it was the venue, the timing of the first show back on the road, Duncan kept lurking at the edge of my brain. Was he watching? Enjoying? Did he see me at the top of my game?
I sang that much louder, drinking in the cheers, and I worked the crowd, joking with the VIP section up front. As usual, a good percentage of the audience wore tiaras and various shapes and sizes of crowns, and even with two bouncer-types policing the front of the stage, some crowns still made it onto the stage. I picked up one and put it on to a roar from the crowd, and feeding off their enthusiasm, I leaned down at the edge of the stage to touch the outstretched hands of some of those who had made their way to the front.
“Whoa.” Someone tugged harder than I expected.
Fuck. I was going to go over the edge of the stage. This wasn’t something staged like the crowd-surfacing in our early years. If I fell, I could be mobbed. Trampled. Worse.