I forced a nervous smile as he continued talking.
; “This is one of my favorite parts of the show. I love you guys so much!” The crowd roared in response as he continued speaking over them toward me. “So, Sparkles, what’s your real name?” He pushed his microphone at my mouth.
“Madison,” I said weakly before he pulled the mic back.
His eyebrows lifted. “Madison. I like it. You look like a Madison, all cute and sweet. I bet you were a cute kid.”
That’s a weird thing for him to say.
“Where are you from?”
I pulled my head back slightly at the question. “Here.”
“Here? You’re from the Staples Center?” He laughed and I smacked his shoulder.
“No. I meant here, as in LA.” I shrugged.
“Well, I figured that much.” He turned toward the crowd and said, “Didn’t you, Los Angeles?” and the crowd screamed in response.
“So, what do you do?”
The stupid microphone appeared in my face again. “For work?” I mumbled, not really understanding why he would ask such a personal question anyway.
I felt like a complete idiot. The pit of my stomach tumbled like it was filled with rocks. Celebrities didn’t normally unnerve me. I couldn’t be fazed by them in my line of work, but this was something else entirely. I was coming unglued at whatever seams pretended to hold me together.
And then there was the way Walker kept looking at me. Deliberately, like he was trying to tell me something without words, but I wasn’t getting the message. Maybe he was expecting me to do something, like flirt with him for the audience? All I could think about was the damn rocks in my stomach, and I felt like an idiot.
“Yeah, Sparkles, what do you do for work?” His voice boomed with confidence.
I hesitated. Should I really tell an entire arena filled with rabid fans my name and where I worked? That might not be the best idea. You never knew what people were truly capable of.
“I work at a talent agency.”
There. No specifics. Los Angeles was filled with talent agents. Good luck trying to figure out which one.
“Which one?” he pressed.
Shit.
Walker flashed me a wide grin and I shook my head. “Aw, you aren’t going to tell me?” He stuck out his bottom lip and pouted toward the audience. Groans and moans filled the air.
“It’s not one you’d know,” I lied.
“Okay, Madison, who works at a talent agency I wouldn’t know, and lives in Los Angeles. This one’s for you.”
Walker reached his hand out for my face again and without shocking me this time, he cupped my cheek. Leaning in close, his war-stopping eyes bored into mine as he sang the lyrics to me.
I told you that I’d wait for you
But you didn’t listen
So I’ll fight for you
If it’s what I have to do
I’ll fight for you