Torn (The Fosters of New York 3)

Falon

"Do you want me to stick around with you, Falon?" Maya's hand touches my shoulder. "My aunt has probably gone to bed by now. She told me she'd leave a key in the mailbox. I don't have to rush off if you need me."

I turn to look at her. She hasn't said a thing about what we witnessed onstage. Asher transformed into another person up there. He was full of energy, flirtatious, pointing at women in the crowd, touching them when he went to the front of the stage. I stared when he picked up a pair of pink panties that someone had thrown at him. He looked down at them before he tucked them into his front pocket with a wide grin on his face.

I'm not sure what I expected when I took this job. I watched a few videos online of his performances. I saw much the same thing. It was different tonight though. I had to stare through the lens of a camera pointed at a man that I'm falling for while he fawned all over hundreds of screaming fans.

"I'm good," I say breathlessly. I've felt flushed since we first got here and Asher couldn’t answer my question about who Karen is. The non-answer was enough of a response for me to know that whatever happened between them was serious, and maybe still is. If she's tracking down who I am, she must feel threatened or territorial.

The last thing I need right now is that kind of complication in my life.

"Are we supposed to be taking pictures of him with the VIP fans?" She gestures over my shoulder to the open door of Asher's dressing room.

More than two dozen women were corralled in there immediately after the show. I watched from the doorway as they tousled their hair, reapplied their make-up and adjusted the neckline of their shirts or dresses, all in anticipation of Asher's arrival.

There was a collective scream when he walked into the room. He was circled immediately, surrounded with no escape route in sight. It's not as though he was looking for one. He threw his arms over the shoulders of the women, chatting to them, and posing for pictures.

"That wasn't part of the contract." I know there's relief in my voice. "We got a lot of great shots tonight, Maya. I think Asher's manager will be happy."

"Are you happy?" She pushes my hair back behind my shoulders,

smoothing out the fabric of the thin blue blouse I'm wearing. "You know he's only doing that for the next twenty minutes. Once that's done, he'll be all yours."

Logically I know that. I saw the smile he flashed me when he walked the corridor from the stage to his dressing room. He was surrounded by large bodyguards. Their bodies formed a human shield around him, blocking the hands of fans that had scored a backstage pass but weren't allowed into his dressing room. He reached out to a few, grabbing their fingertips in his hand, mouthing something to them that I couldn't make out from my vantage point.

The entire night has been surreal. He's nothing like the man who walked down the street in Manhattan to meet me for pizza. This Asher Foster is a consummate performer, understanding the pulse of each of fans and how to make it race just for him.

"I'm fine." My voice is barely recognizable at this point. I know I sound tired. I am. I'm exhausted in every conceivable way. "I'm sorry that you couldn't meet him. I didn't know he'd be so out of my reach. "

"I'll meet him when we're all back in Manhattan," she says. "It's not a big deal."

She may say that, but I know it is. I can see the disappointment in her face. I could insist she stay now so that once he's done she can meet him, but I want to be alone with him as soon as possible. "I'm going to start edits on the pictures in the empty dressing room down the hall while I wait for him to finish."

"You're sure you don't want me to hang around? I don't mind."

I need her to go. I can hear something in her voice that isn't usually there. It's concern.

The entire night, as I shot picture after picture of Asher, she was behind me, watching my neck tense, seeing my shoulders stiffen. Maya knows me well enough to know that I'm not comfortable.

"He'll be done soon and then we're heading to a hotel."

"Call me if you need me, Fal." She brushes her lips across my cheek. "I can be back here in fifteen minutes."

"I'll be fine." I reach for her shoulder to pull her into a quick hug. "I'll meet you at the airport tomorrow morning at eleven."

She steps back to eye me carefully. "My friend instinct is telling me you need me."

"Your friend is telling you she's fine." I tap her chin. "Go, Maya. I promise that I'm good."

She nods and as I watch her walk away I wonder if her friend instinct is right and I need her more than I realize.

***

I glance down at my phone. It's been almost an hour and a half since Maya left. I sank into a plush chair in another dressing room before I pulled my laptop from my bag and started working on the edits for the pictures I took of Asher tonight. Dita wants them in her hands as soon as possible for promotional use, so I need to get them to her by late tomorrow afternoon at the latest. I could take longer, but she's paying me well and I'm getting credit for the shots that are on his website, as well as a link back to my site. The exposure I'm going to get from that alone is worth all the work I'll be putting in on the plane tomorrow morning and once I'm back at my studio.

Maya texted me twice since she left. The first time to tell me that she arrived at her aunt's house in one piece and the second time was just three minutes ago when she insisted I come there to sleep.

I didn't realize what time it was until that text came in. The small ding of the bell indicating the message jarred me from my work. I shoved my laptop back into the bag and now I'm once again standing in the corridor outside Asher's dressing room.