A little piece of my soul crying out for what it had lost.
“Hi, Emily,” she drawled with the tiniest lisp. “I’m Saige. I’m your biggest fan in the whole world. You are so pretty. I like your eyes.”
A tender smile pulled across my face. “Well, I like your eyes, too. Did you have fun at the show tonight?”
She nodded. “It was my favorite in the world, and my favorite song in the world is ‘Heartstruck.’ I can sing it good. You wanna hear?”
She belted out a line in her little girl drawl.
Right then, I was the one that was heartstruck.
“I’m glad I got to sing it for you tonight, but wow, I think you sing it way better than I do.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Really?”
“Really.”
I turned to her sister. “How about you? What’s your favorite song?”
Her eyes went round as saucers, as if she couldn’t believe I was talkin’ to her, and I could feel the tension drain away. The fear I’d felt a moment ago was pushed down into the recesses because moments like these mattered too much.
I needed to be present. To be right and good. I wanted to give it all. To be my best. To be an example for young girls like this.
And how could I do that when I was running from everything? If I couldn’t take a stance?
“I . . . I . . . all of them,” she said.
Gratitude and hope pulsed through my veins.
They both passed me keepsake books they’d made with pictures of our album covers pasted on the pages inside. I grinned as I signed them, then grinned even wider when their mama took a picture of the three of us.
“Thank you so much,” their mama said. “I don’t think I can express what this means to them.”
“We’re just thankful for you supportin’ us. We couldn’t do this without you.”
I glanced up at the guys who were getting no love.
Poor boys.
They didn’t need to worry. I was pretty sure we could expect a fangirl or two.
Oh, and were there ever. Rhys got about fifteen marriage proposals, a slew of phone numbers, and a few keys to hotel rooms.
He accepted them all.
No surprise there.
Only question was who he’d actually grace with his presence tonight.
Richard and Leif got a whole lot of propositions, too.
Richard always refrained. A stab of sadness hit me. I still couldn’t fathom why he’d given up what had meant most. Why he would walk away.
Leif was all too excited to show off the band he’d recently had tattooed on his ring finger.
A symbol of his forever.
We signed, and we smiled, and we posed until I was close to being spent and still feeling better than I thought I had in years.
“Only a few more,” Melanie promised, leading out an older couple and letting in the next group.
It was four guys . . . barely men, really.
Raucous and rowdy.
The stench of beer came off them in nauseating waves, their movements a little unruly and their voices slurred.
My chest gave a little lurch. A vibration of a warning.
I swallowed it down.
This was all part of the game. They were just looking for a good time. I had no right to begrudge them that.
Still, I couldn’t stop the small throb of panic as they came closer.
“Holy shit, it’s Carolina George! Is this real life?” one of them shouted, throwing his arms in the air. “Day fuckin’ made!”
Richard chuckled and reached for the shirt he wanted him to sign. “We’re just thankful you’re here, man. Songs don’t mean anything if there isn’t someone there to listen to them. We appreciate your support.”
“Fuck yeah. We had to buy these tickets from a scalper, but it was worth every penny. Show was off the hook.”
“Glad to hear you think we’re worth it,” Rhys said as he was signing a baseball cap.
“Best show this year. You guys nailed it. Way better than when you were opening for A Riot of Roses. Dickbags sucked.”
My entire body flinched with the mention of that band. Time spun backward. Rushing to catch up to tonight’s text. The two of them paired left my knees weak and my stomach turning.
Hold it together, Em. You can do this. A few minutes more. That’s it, I silently told myself.
Besides, that’s what that bastard wanted, anyway. He wanted me trembling with fear. Cowering. Giving in.
Screw him.
Still, I was having to paste on a smile when one of the guys came up to me while the other three were caught up in a conversation with the rest of the band.
He was smiling, too. Though something about his was all wrong.
Off.
Salacious and vile.
“You got the prettiest voice I ever heard,” he slurred, his breath knocking me in the face. A clean shot of stale alcohol and depravity.
My smile slipped. I fought to maintain it.
“Thank you,” I barely mumbled. I reached for the shirt he had so I could sign it and get him the heck out of there.