Torn (The Fosters of New York 3)

The mood has changed. There's music blaring through the speakers, dozens of people are in the corridor, many with drinks in their hands. There are woman huddled everywhere, scoping the faces of any men that pass by. I recognize the looks on their faces. It's lust. They're on the hunt for Asher, just as I am.

I try to push past a group of women standing directly in front of the doorway of his dressing room.

"Excuse me." I clear my throat. "Let me by."

A tall brunette with red lipstick puts her hand on my shoulder to halt me. "That's not how this works. Get in line behind me."

I laugh. "No, you've got it wrong. I'm a friend of Asher's. I'm going in to talk to him."

The words turn every other woman in the vicinity around to look at me.

The tall brunette isn't buying any of what she thinks I'm trying to sell her. "We're all friends of his. Dita arranged for each of us to have time with him. You'll get your turn if you just get in line."

I try to look past them to where Asher's sitting with his back to me. He's on a chair with two women directly across from him. I can't see what's happening so I shift slightly to the right to try and grab a better view. I shouldn't have, or maybe it's good that I did. I see Asher take the hand of one of the women to cup it between both of his.

"You're not going to cut in the line." The brunette is getting more irritated with me by the second. "I'm the sixth in line to see him, you're the seventh."

"I'm the seventh?" It's too ironic for it to be anything but funny. I chuckle. "You're not serious? I have to wait in this line in seventh place to see Asher?"

"Get in line, Seven." She rubs the tip of her nose. "You'll get your turn with him just like the rest of us."

Hearing that from her is almost too much. I bite my lip to try and quell my emotions. I yank my phone from my pocket and type out a message to Asher telling him that I want to talk to him. I press send and wait.

I look back in the room and one of the women is now on his lap, while the other takes a picture. They switch positions, the second woman wrapping her arms around his neck while she rests her cheek against his.

The minutes pass. He talks. He stands for another set of pictures and he never once looks at his phone or back towards the doorway. I type another short message to him telling him I'm leaving and I'll see him back in New York.

I walk across the hall to another dressing room. Some of Asher's crew stored my overnight bag and my equipment in there. I show the guard at the door the media tag that's around my neck and once I'm inside the darkened room, I call Maya and tell her that I'm on my way.

CHAPTER 38

Asher

"Someone needs to fucking find her for me, Dita." I clench my fists together at my side. "How the hell did she just walk out of here and no one knows where she went?"'

I'm so goddamn pissed at myself right now. I let Dita dictate what happened after the show. I did the standard VIP meet and greet even though I didn't want to. I plastered a smile on my face and signed autograph after autograph all while listening to women telling me that they love my music or they fantasize about what it would be like if I sang a song for them.

I was in a fog through the entire thing and when it started to wind down, Dita announced out in the corridor that I was willing to meet more fans, so the ones that had scored a backstage pass rushed my dressing room.

Some of the security guards lined the women up and they let them in either one-by-one, or in some cases two-by-two. Dita snapped pictures on her phone while I sat like a trained monkey, smiling, signing, and then repeating the process over and over again. The entire fucking time that was going on, I wanted to talk to Falon.

It wasn't until the last of the women finally filed out that I looked at my phone and realized that the ringer was still set to silent. I'd done that before I stepped on stage.

I missed three text messages from Falon. Two while she was still in this building. Both of them were short, succinct but I could read between the lines. She needed me and I wasn't there for her. I was catering to the fans, to the women who buy my music.

The third message was a simple goodnight. She didn't say where she was but I assumed she was at the hotel. I had one of the security guys who were already there check on the room. He knocked but no one answered. When he went down to the front desk to confirm that Falon was there, they checked the key logs. No one had been in or out of the room all night.

She's somewhere in Philadelphia. I just have no fucking clue where.

I turn back so I'm facing Dita directly. "You had a key for the room I'm staying in at the hotel. You gave that to her like I asked you to, right?"

She taps the toe of her boot on the floor. "She got here late, Asher. I didn't have time."

"What the hell?" I rake my hand through my hair. "What about after the show? She sent me some text messages. She was still here for a couple of hours after I left the stage."

She throws her arms up. "Don't take this out on me. I had a lot to coordinate. I'm not responsible for crossed wires between you and your latest."

"Don't call her that," I seethe. "I care about this girl, Dita. I want to see her. Where did the driver take her? You can find that out, can't you?"