Dangerous Rock (Dangerous Noise 3)

I don't care what anybody says about marriage and respect. My wife has fantastic tits. I'll shout it from the fucking mountaintops if I get the chance.

But I shouldn't stare. I need to inspire this kid. He looks up to me. And that's a fucking responsibility. I'm not going to squander it the way my dad does.

I put my arm around his shoulder to lead him to the limo. He lights up like a pinball machine, babbling about his favorite Dangerous Noise songs.

Bella leans against the limo door, watching us closely.

The driver is standing on the other side of the door. I make the signature motion. He reaches into the car, grabs a marker, and tosses it to me.

I catch. I don't always catch.

Eric's eyes go wide. "Wow. You're like… like an even cooler Dave Grohl." He hands over his phone.

I sign the back Eric, Keep playing - Joel Young and hand the cell to him.

His eyes nearly burst out of his skull. He throws his arms around me and hugs tightly. He doesn't let go until an older woman, his mom I guess, calls his name.

Bella's lips curl into a smile. "You made his day."

"Just being polite."

"Did it bother you?"

I shrug.

"You probably shouldn't travel in a limo if it bothers you. That's like screaming look at me."

I motion to my face. "People look at me no matter what. It's the curse of beauty."

She laughs.

I pull my t-shirt up my stomach to show off my taut abs. "This doesn't help."

"No, stripping in public would not help deflect attention."

This time, I laugh.

"I'm surprised you've had this much attention." Her eyes light up as her smile widens. "Your band isn't really that big."

"It's not?"

She shakes her head. "Really, have you even had a platinum album?"

"I'll have to ask one of my people. I'm too important to remember those details."

"So you wouldn't know if you'd had a number one single?"

"Not a clue."

"Or how many weeks you've spent in the Billboard Top 200?"

"You Google all those music things in the last five minutes?"

She bites her lip. "Maybe."

"You can Google the answer too."

"I'd rather call one of your people." She stretches her arms over her head. It pulls her shirt up her stomach. "How about a number?"