JENNIE
I was a bundle of restless energy as I waited for the guys to take the stage. Staples Center. They were playing at Staples Center! This was no small-to-moderately sized venue. This was an arena, and from what I could tell as I snuck a peek at the audience from backstage, it was sold out. I had no idea how many people that equated to, but I was sure it was in the tens of thousands. It boggled my mind.
Lisa was fine as she lounged in a chair beside me, sipping on a beer; you would think it was just another night at Pete's from her breezy attitude. As I played with my necklace, yanking the guitar pendant from left to right in a repetitious pattern that was surely weakening the thin chain, Lisa had a lazy conversation with Deacon, the lead singer of Niki's other opening act, Holeshot. They'd been the only act until Nick had appropriated the D-Bags from Avoiding Redemption's tour.
Lisa's eyes were amused as she watched me while shooting the shit with Deacon. Since my nerves where slowly eating holes through my stomach, I jumped to my feet and started pacing. Lisa and Deacon both watched me, entertained expressions on their faces. Deacon's band had a song on the radio too, but it wasn't doing nearly as well as Lisa's single with Niki. Deacon didn't seem too upset that the D-Bags had been added onto the tour at the last minute, cutting into his set time. If anything, Deacon just seemed happy to have some guys to hang out with. Good thing, since the two bands were sharing a bus for the next several months.
I watched Lisa and Deacon as they chatted about music. The pair were night-and-day different. Lisa had light brown, bed-head hair. Deacon's was black, and longer than mine, nearly to his waist. Lisa had brown eyes. Deacon's were so light blue they were almost white. Deacon had a neatly trimmed goatee. But about music, the two seemed equally matched.
Luckily, I had plenty of room to pace, and I made the most of it. One thing I'd noticed right away on this tour was that the security here was much tighter than the last one. On that tour, the backstage area had seemed like a frat house—women, booze, and rock and roll. This was a lot more regimented. A group of fans had met with the guys earlier after the sound check. Rosé, handler extraordinaire, had been there to give the fans strict instructions on what they could and couldn't do with the rock stars. While the guys were busy onstage, Rosé had barked at the group of radio contest winners like a drill sergeant until they were all docile and submissive. Listening to her go off on them had shocked me, and honestly, her "rules" made the whole affair awkward, for Lisa and the fans. In my opinion, if Rosé had just let the bands and fans mingle organically like the other tour, it would have been a much more rewarding experience for both parties. She didn't seem to understand that the guya needed the fans just as much as the fans needed them.
The only people backstage now were press, staff of the venue, roadies for the tour, and band members. In the dressing room where we were waiting, it was just the three of us. For some reason, the lack of people around was making me even more anxious for Lisa.
Deacon pointed at me with a long finger. "Is she always this nervous?"
Lisa smiled at me around the beer bottle she held to her mouth. "Pretty much," she answered after she swallowed.
The door opened to the room, and a man wearing a headset popped her head in and looked at Deacon. "Show's starting, sir. You're up."
Deacon nodded at him, then stood and stretched. "Catch you guys on the flip side."
Lisa nodded at him, then turned her attention to me once he was gone. "Would you sit down, please?"
I pressed the palms of my hands over my stomach, trying to stop the butterflies from taking flight. "Aren't you nervous? Even a little bit?"
Lisa took another swig of beer. "Well, watching you is making me a little nervous." Setting her drink down on a nearby table, she patted her lap. "Come over here and help me relax."
Smirking, I walked over to her. She didn't have a nervous bone in her body. Not about this, anyway. This, Lisa could do naked in front of a million people and be just fine. There was something seriously wrong with her.
I straddled her lap, tangling my hands in her hair. Maybe her calm would seep into me, if we got close enough. I placed a light kiss on her lips and Lisa let out a soft laugh. "There, I feel better already."
Loving the fact that we were surrounded by people and yet completely alone inside this dressing room, I ground my hips into hers, and let my soft kiss turn into a deeper one. She let out a low groan and ran her hands up my back, under my shirt. I pressed my chest against hers, delighting in the smell of her, musky and manly, the taste of her, slightly bitter from the beer, the feel of her, warm, hard, and yet soft too. Feeling lost and carefree, I let the world around us melt away.
Lisa's fingers rubbed my back in soothing patterns while her tongue lightly brushed against mine. Then those tricky fingers of her unhooked my bra. Pulling back, I gave her an admonishing glare; we may be alone for now, but this place wasn't exactly private. Her grin was cocky as she murmured, "Oops."
As I was reaching around to fix my bra, the door to our room opened again. I leapt off of Lisa's lap, twisting so that my back was to the far wall; I incorrectly latched the hook of my bra and had to try again. As my cheeks heated to flaming hot, Niki sauntered into the room.
Glancing between the two of us, she asked, "Sorry, did I interrupt something?"
Smiling over at me, Lisa told her, "Don't worry about it. We're getting used to it."
Niki laughed and sat down in a plush chair. "That's a story I'd like to hear."
My bra finally back in place, I took a seat beside Lisa. My nerves started returning, and I bounced my heels to dissipate the energy. Holeshot had started to play, and their music filtered through the speakers. They were pretty good. Not as good as the D-Bags, but good. Lisa looked back at Niki when she asked her, "You ready for this?"
Lisa picked up her beer, showed it to her, then took a swig. "All set." Niki grinned and shook her head, amused by her; I sort of hated her being amused by Lisa.
Lisa and Niki fell into a lively discussion about music. While Lisa didn't enjoy the games Niki played, I don't think she minded her as a person. When Niki started talking about her parents, Lisa got quiet. Her face void of emotion, Niki told her, "They would be screaming in my face right now, if they were still allowed at my shows. A little terrified . . . that's how they liked to send me out on stage."
Lisa's expression turned thoughtful. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"Thank you." Niki reached over and put a hand on her leg. My nerves about the show suddenly vanished as I watched her flirt with her. "What are your parents like? Warm and fuzzy?" she asked with a smile.
Politely, but firmly, Lisa picked up her hand and placed it back on her own lap. She frowned, but didn't say anything. Leaning back in her chair, Lisa took another drink of her beer. "No, definitely not." Setting her beer down, she shrugged. "But, I don't have to worry about them anymore."
I laid my hand on her chest and Lisa smiled down at me. I knew that casual sentence was filled with more pain than Niki could possibly imagine. I lifted my lips to hers, in comfort, and as a reminder to Niki: Lisa may sympathize with you, but her heart is with me. As Lisa gave me a brief peck, Niki commented with, "Family. It's not all it's cracked up to be."
Thinking of my flighty sister, over-protective father, and wedding-obsessed mother, I tossed out, "My family is great."
Niki's sad smile turned humoring. "I'm sure it is." Her dark eyes flicked between Lisa and I. "So, will you two be creating a family of your own? Any kids in your future?" Her gaze locked onto my stomach.
Pulling my legs up onto the chair, I hid my body as much as I could. "Someday, sure."
Lisa bumped my shoulder with hers. "Maybe after we're officially married." She hesitated, then looked up at Niki. "Which, just so you know, is happening on December twenty-three, when the tour is on break for Christmas." Luckily Niki's and Justin's tours were breaking for the holiday at the same time. If I'd had to change the wedding date after Mom had already sent out the invitations, she'd skin me alive.
Niki's lips twitched, but she very smoothly told us, "Well, I suppose congratulations are in order." She looked like she wanted to hug Lisa to congratulate her, but the way Lisa and I were cuddling really wasn't giving her the opportunity.
The same man who'd come for Deacon came to usher Lisa onstage. Niki stood up with Lisa. Extending her elbow to Lisa, she demurely asked, "Can I show you the way?" Maybe it was my imagination, but the question seemed laced with dual meaning.
Lisa didn't take her elbow, but gave her a polite nod of her head. I followed them out the door, my fingers loosely held in Lisa's. A group of men and women wearing lanyards sporting the name of one of the local radio stations spotted Niki instantly. Of course, she wasn't hard to miss. She was in her stage outfit—a one-piece seventies-inspired jumpsuit littered with rhinestones that sparkled in the lights. It tied around her neck in a halter and had absolutely no back on it; it was so low that I could see the dimples beside her tail bone. And I'd been trying very hard to ignore how deeply cut the V was in the front while we'd been talking in the back room. I'm assuming that a hefty amount of double-sided tape was keeping everything in place.
"Niki! Can we have a quick interview? Maybe some photos?"
The bodyguards that seemed to flank Niki everywhere she went didn't let the people through until Niki spoke. "Sure thing."
"With Lisa?" A blonde in super tight jeans asked. The suggestive smile on her face was very unprofessional.
Lisa jerked her thumb toward the stage. "Sorry, I have to go."
The blonde pouted at her, holding up a camera. "Just a quick photo of the happy couple?"
Lisa rolled her eyes as she looked back at me. I was standing a little behind her, so the blonde probably couldn't tell that we were holding hands. Locking eyes with the blonde, she pointed at Niki and firmly told her, "We're not together."
The blonde gave Lisa a knowing smile. It was so clear to me that she was thinking, Got it, you don't want to talk about your relationship with Niki yet. Your secret is safe with me. Lisa looked like she wanted to set her straight, but I tugged on her arm. She'd have to point out who I was to effectively set her straight, and I didn't want to be a part of this spectacle. Besides, the man wearing headphones was frantically waving at us to hurry.
As we turned away from the press, I noticed Niki blowing Lisa a kiss. Before we were out of earshot, one of the radio personalities pointed at me and asked, "Who's that?"
Her smile still bright and charming, Niki immediately answered, "Just an old friend of Lisa's." She smirked a bit after she said it, then all of her attention was given to the interviewers.
Lisa didn't hear, but I glared daggers into her back, not sure if I should be angry or not. She had called me an old friend when she could have just said "nobody," and left it at that. I just wasn't sure what to feel for Niki. One minute she wasn't so bad, then the next she was just as manipulative as Nick. I couldn't tell what her deal was.
Thinking of old friends and sorting through my feelings got me thinking of Taehyung. The All Access pass around my neck let me go anywhere I wanted backstage, so I took out my cell phone and snapped a few pictures to send to him. Making my way to where I could watch the guys play, I snapped a pic of the massive crowd jumping up and down. Right after I sent the photo with a message that read, Can you believe the size of this crowd? I noticed a huge sign that a fan was holding high in the air—Lis-Nik forever! God, I really hated that nickname.
Taehyung texted back while I was looking around the dimly lit arena for more signs. Damn, I'd be crapping my daks if I were her. I suppose she's not the least bit nervous, though, is she?
I laughed as I texted back that she was fine. Phlegmatic, even.
The stage was dark as the lights dramatically danced across the crowd in haphazard patterns. The fans roared in delight and lifted their arms in the air. Then all of the lights simultaneously swung toward the stage, and the mob screamed. Lisa and the boys had stepped out while they weren't looking. Once the people realized they were standing there, waiting, they went nuts; it was easy to see that the fans were losing their minds over the fact that the D-Bags had been added to the tour. The noise vibrated my chest. I covered my ears as I laughed. From my vantage point, I could see Lisa shaking her head a little bit, completely blown away by the swaying mass of bodies before her. Even though I'd seen her do this a thousand times before, excitement flooded through me as I watched her approach the microphone.
"Good evening, Los Angeles!"
The answering squeals vibrated my skull. Adjusting the guitar strapped over her chest, Lisa flashed the crowd a panty-dropping grin. I saw someone in the front row fall back into her friends; guess her knees gave away.
As the rest of the guya got into position, Lisa raised her hand in the air. The crowd silenced . . . sort of. "We're the D-Bags, and we're honored to be playing for you tonight." The silence evaporated into shrieking. Lisa put both hands up to quiet them. "Now, we're only going to play for you if you've been good." Unhooking the microphone, she walked up to the edge of the stage and looked down on the crowd at her feet. "So . . . have you been good?" she asked, her voice dripping with sensuality.
The crowd's response was so loud that I almost didn't hear Evan start the intro. I was sure that Lisa and the guys only heard it because of the earpieces they were all wearing. Giving the audience a glorious view of her backside, Lisa sauntered back to her microphone stand. Sliding the equipment back into place, Lisa started playing her guitar. It was miked as well, and the twang echoed around the arena.
They were playing a song that was classic to me, but new to most of the fans here. The crowd ate it up. Lisa's voice was perfect and powerful; it made a shiver run down my spine. She really was so good at this, so inspiring to watch. As she played, words and storylines filtered through my head. Even though I hated to turn away from Lisa, I decided to not let this creative spark get away from me. As quickly as I could, I dashed away to find some paper. By the time I got back to my spot, the D-Bags had switched songs. Lisa's guitar was resting near her empty microphone stand, and Lisa was strutting back and forth near the edge of the stage, tantalizing the crowd with her proximity.
Words were tumbling through my brain as her voice drifted past my ears. Watching a movie play out in my head, I jotted down everything I saw. It was a completely different story I was seeing than the tragedy of my past that I had been working on. Switching to something new brought a huge smile to my lips. Writing was so rewarding. And writing while listening to Lisa perform live was darn near euphoric.
Lisa found me after her set was over, and I practically leapt into her arms I was so proud of her. She was giddy as she swung me around in a circle. Just like after their other shows, the audience was shouting for the D-Bags, shouting for Lisa. Setting me down, Lisa peeked out over the crowd.
Evan and Lucas were awestruck. Jackson looked like he'd expected nothing less. Smacking Lisa's shoulder, he told her, "We gotta give 'em an encore."
Lisa looked back at the bassist and shook her head. "We don't have time to play another song. It's Niki's show, and she's big on structure."
Jackson pursed his lips then grabbed Lisa's arm. "What the fuck do I care about Niki?" Shoving Lisa forward, he smirked, "It's our time to shine, baby."
Lucas and Evan pushed her forward too. Lucas said, "Just pop your head out and wave." As Lisa shrugged, Lucas looked back at me and laughed. "Plug your ears, Jennie."
Grinning at the group as they dashed back onto the stage, I did as Lucas suggested. Good thing too. My eardrums may have burst if I hadn't. A panicked staff member frantically waving his arms at the guys finally got them to come down from their spotlight. They were all laughing as they joined me again. I couldn't help but be caught up in their excitement.
Lisa wrapped her arms around my waist as the hollering from the crowd died down. "We have to stay close by to join Niki for the final song, but the guys and I were thinking about running across the street to the bar. Wanna come?"
A part of me wanted to stay where I was so I could work on the new novel that had sprung to life during Lisa's performance, but Lisa's grin was contagious, and there was no way I could say no. Besides, there would be countless live performances in my future to draw inspiration from. As I nodded, Lisa pointed at the notepad I was hugging to my chest. "Were you writing?" My emphatic nod continued and she asked, "While I was singing?"
"You're very inspiring to watch," I stated.
Her face was incredulous as she ran a hand through her slightly damp hair. "I . . . inspire you?"
Stars in my eyes, I sighed, "Daily."
Lisa looked at me like I'd just grown another head. "And you say I'm absurd." I laughed until she pried the notebook away from me. I tried to snatch it back, but she handed it to the man in a headset who'd retrieved her from the dressing room. "This is priceless, literary genius, and you need to guard it with your life."
The man's eyes went wide as he held it close. "Yes, Mam." I almost thought he was going to salute us.
Satisfied, Lisa told him, "Make sure it ends up inside my guitar case, please."
"Yes, Mam," the man said again before he took off.
"Did he just call me Mam . . . twice?" Lisa laughed as she slung her arm around my waist.
I lightly smacked her stomach. "Don't let it go to your head."
She looked down at me with a grin. "Wouldn't dream of it."
The group of us headed toward the exit after that. Lucas and Jackson were leading the way, sneaking around corners like we were robbing the place. "Are we allowed to leave the arena while the show is going on?" I asked Lisa.
She laughed as she looked around. "We have no idea . . . hence Spy vs. Spy up there."
Avoiding every person that we could, we crept our way to a set of doors marked with an Exit sign. We stealthily made our way down a hallway that Lucas said let out by the busses. We weren't going to the busses, but no one around needed to know that. When we got outside, a guard was stationed outside of the door, keeping an eye on things. The guys nodded at him, walking past like they owned the place. Either the guard recognized them as rock stars, or saw my go-anywhere pass. Either way, he didn't question any of us as we left the arena. I suppose he was more concerned with people trying to get into the backstage area than people leaving it.
When we got onto the regular street, that one security guard was the only person who knew we were gone. That sort of freedom gave us all a buzz; there was a lot of giggling and playful ribbing. I loved being included in it. Jackson scoured the street, trying to figure out where we were in relation to the nearest bar while Lisa nudged Lucas's arm. "You know what time we should be back, right?" Lucas nodded as he tapped the watch on his wrist. I hoped he did. It would not be good if the guys were late.
Suddenly, Jackson pointed to his right and shouted, "Bar, ho!"
He immediately started sprinting toward his alcoholic haven. Lucas and Evan took off after him, both of them laughing. Lisa looked over at me. "Last one to the bar has to sit by Jackson." I darted away before she even finished her sentence.
I had a serious ache in my side when I stepped on the rubber welcome mat, but my foot came down a half-second before Lisa's, so I considered that a victory. Hands on my knees, I struggled to catch my breath as I peered up at her. It had been a while since I'd sprinted. "Beat 'cha," I panted.
Lisa was breathing heavier too as she pulled the door open. "I let you win. I liked the view." She winked at me as I ducked inside.
I expected every sound in the bar to stop when the D-Bags walked in, but nobody here seemed to know who they were. I loved that they still had some anonymity. Lisa was the only one who caused a stir, but I didn't know if that was recognition, or if it was just her looks that were causing a ripple of whispers to float around the small circular tables.
Jackson made his way to a table in the back and we followed him. When we all arrived, his face turned oddly serious. "Same rules as last time."
Lucas rolled his eyes while Evan laughed and shrugged. Lisa frowned and glanced at me. "We're not playing that game tonight, Jack."
Jackson eyed Lisa up and down. "Uh, yeah, we are." His smile turned arrogant. "What? Afraid you'll lose?"
Evan turned to Lucas. "When has Lisa ever lost?"
Curious, and wondering if I wanted to know what game they routinely played at bars while on tour, I asked, "What game?"
Lisa turned to me. "It's stupid . . . Jackson came up with it." She said it like Jackson and stupid were synonymous.
Jackson snorted. "You're a pansy. All intimidated 'cuz your girlfriend's here?"
"Wife," Lisa corrected.
"Whatever, we're playing. Turn out your pockets." He instantly pulled the innards out of his jeans. They were empty.
Lisa looked over at me and, too curious to say no, I nodded. Lisa turned out her pockets, which were also empty. After all the guys did it, Jackson looked satisfied. "Good. Now, numbers count as one point, condoms count as five. The person with the least amount of points picks up the tab. The stud with the most gets a shot from everybody . . . and top shelf shit too." He pointed at each guy in turn. "And cheating in any way is grounds for immediate ass-kickery." His fingers pointed at his own eyes, then Lucas's. I'm watching you. Lucas sighed.
Still trying to wrap my head around the point system—condoms?—I asked, "Wait, what game?"
Jackson squatted in front of me. "The dude who fills the pockets with the most chick's phone numbers wins." He said it slowly, like I was already drunk so I couldn't possibly understand him.
My eyes widened, and I turned to Lisa with an eyebrow raised. "And you haven't ever lost this game?"
Lisa lifted her hands in the air. "Completely unsolicited, I swear." I pursed my lips at her and Lisa scratched her head. "You, uh, want a drink?"
I gave her a tight smile. "Mmm-hmm."
Lisa immediately tucked tail and headed for the bar. I had to laugh a little as she waded through the crowd with her head down. Evan wrapped her arm around my shoulders. "She really doesn't ask for any. She doesn't have to. Girls tend to . . . shove things Lisa's way." He raised his eyebrow, and the ring pierced through it sparkled at me; it nearly matched the amused gleam in her eye. "Just you watch."
Curious, I turned around to observe my wife. As she waited at the bar for our drinks, she was approached by a couple of girls. They hadn't talked to her for more than five seconds before one of them was sliding a napkin her way. My jaw dropped. That was so fast! Jackson was apparently just as shocked as I was.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" He raised his hands in the air. "You're a whore!" he yelled at Lisa. Some girls, maybe thinking he meant them, looked back at Jackson with scowls on their faces. I figured none of them would be approaching him with their numbers tonight.
Lisa looked back at our table. Seeing my amused smile, Lisa teasingly waved the napkin at Jackson, then stuffed it in her pocket. Jackson's scowl grew. "No way that cocksucker's pulling one over on me again." He disappeared into the packed bar, and I had the distinct feeling that every one of her phone numbers would be "solicited." Heavily solicited. Perhaps bribed.
I knew the game should have disgusted me, but aside from Jackson, none of the guys actively tried to get phone numbers. Their natural good looks and charisma did it for them. Their quickness to laugh and easygoing personalities drew a circle of people around them. It was almost like we were back at Pete's. I even had to stop myself from clearing off a table once or twice. But, unlike Pete's, Lisa merely had to walk by a woman to get her to discretely shove a finger in her pocket. she didn't acknowledge the slip, or the girl, and I began to wonder if maybe I was wrong. Maybe this was exactly like Pete's and I just didn't realize it. Maybe Lisa got slipped numbers at our bar back home and I had never noticed. Well, if she did, she was quick to discard them.
It also helped that all of the guys treated the game as a big joke. Whenever Lisa grabbed a drink at the bar, or went to the bathroom, someone asked her how many names she'd nabbed when she returned. When Jackson sulked his way back to the table with an irritated expression, Lucas gave him an exaggerated, sympathetic, "Ah, no luck?" to which Jackson responded with grace by flipping him off.
Drinks and merriment abounded at our table, and I grew to love my decision to roam around the country with D-Bags more and more. When everyone was feeling no pain, the alarm on Lucas's watch went off. We all stared at it for a second, then remembered that there was still a show going on.
"Shit, Niki's set is almost over. We have to go." Lucas looked a little panicked as he downed his beer.
Everyone started to leave the table but Jackson threw his hands out. "Wait! We need a winner. Pockets."
As I stifled a drunken giggle, I wondered which guy would be breaking the most hearts tonight. My bet was on Lisa. I eagerly leaned into her side, like she was laying down a winning poker hand, not phone numbers from girls. Evan started the process, slapping down a single phone number scrawled on a wadded up piece of paper. "Just one." He shrugged, not really caring.
Exalted, Jackson tossed down a napkin, a business card, and . . . I swear . . . a section of toilet paper. "Ha! Three! Read 'em and weep." He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Lisa.
Knowing she had to have way more than that, I nudged her in the ribs. Lisa shook her head at me, then pulled her prizes from her pockets. She had to unfold them all she had so many. "Uh . . . five," she muttered, throwing them on the table.
Jackson slammed his hand on the table. "Damn it, Lisa! I fucking hate you."
Evan raised an edge of his lip. "Just five? Slow night, Lisa?"
Lisa laughed at Evan, while Jackson muttered, "Fine, prick, what shot do you want?"
"What about Lucas?" I asked, looking over at the quiet guitarist; he was watching the exchange with a secretive smile on his lips. "How did you do?"
Lucas was about to answer when Jackson interrupted. "Pfffft, no way Lucas beat Lisa . . . it's over." He raised a pale eyebrow. "Unless . . . someone slip you a condom?"
Lucas slowly shook his head. "No . . ." Reaching into his pocket, he slowly pulled out a flat credit-card looking thing. His cheeks brightened with color as he tossed it on the table. "I got a motel key."
By the whooping and hollering the guys did, you would think Lucas had just won the lottery. "Holy shit!" Jackson exclaimed. "That's an instant win!" Bouncing on his feet, Jackson grabbed Lucas's shoulders. "Oh my God, you beat Lisa!" Turning Lucas around, he showcased him to the bar. "Everybody! This is my cousin right here, and he just dethroned God's Gift to Women!" He rubbed Lucas's head with his knuckles while Lucas turned about a bazillion shades of red.
Slipping away from him, Lucas hurried out of the bar. Jackson raised his hands. "Dude? Your shots?"
Evan was laughing so hard he had to wipe tears out of his eyes. I couldn't stop laughing either. When Evan could talk, he mumbled, "I guess I lost," and started reaching for his wallet.
Lisa stopped him and handed the waitress a folded up one hundred dollar bill, or maybe two of them. I wasn't sure. "I got it, Evan."
Evan clapped her shoulder. "Thanks, Lisa," then stumbled after Lucas and Jackson.
Lisa grabbed my hand and pulled me after them, leaving the motel key and the stack of phones numbers sitting on the table. It made me smile that not a single member of the band kept any of the numbers . . . not even Jackson. When we got outside, Lisa asked me, "So, you're really not mad?"
I gave her a sarcastic smile. "I'm furious." Lisa raised an eyebrow at me, and I laughed again. "It only would have made me mad if Jackson had beat you."
Lisa looked over at where Jackson was announcing to the street that his very embarrassed cousin's "balls had just dropped." Shaking her head, Lisa murmured, "Never would have happened."
Under Lucas's insistence, the very buzzed D-Bags stumbled their way back into the arena with me. Getting past the security guard near the back entrance was a little trickier than leaving it had been. It was a different guard than before, and he kept asking for proof that the guys were really in the show. Lisa, Lucas, and Evan had their clearances with them, but Jackson had forgotten his. Everyone was too drunk to come up with anything logical sounding; Jackson just kept showing him the pass around my neck, but that only allowed me access. Luckily Deacon was relaxing in the bus, overheard the argument, and grabbed Jackson's missing credentials for him.
Once inside, the guys made a beeline for the stage. An overwrought person with a clipboard hurriedly pulled them toward the rear entrance of the stage. Before Lisa disappeared, she grabbed my face and kissed me. The alcohol on her breath was strong; hopefully she remembered all of the words to the duet she was about to do.
I moved back into my favorite place to watch Niki announce her special encore to wrap up the evening. The crowd went nuts, already suspecting what it was going to be. Light-headed and giddy, I tried to whistle along with the crowd. It came out flat and airy, more like I was blowing up an inner tube.
Niki's arm swished to the back of the stage. "Ladies and gents, please put your hands together again for the D-Bags, led by the outstanding Lisa Manoban!"
Maybe it was because I was tipsier than before, but the screams seemed extra piercing. The guys hobbled out, only half stumbling as they switched places with Niki's band. Lisa walked up to stand beside Niki, and Niki grabbed her hand then leaned over to kiss her cheek. I really wished she'd stop doing that. Lisa discretely pulled away from her as she acknowledged the crowd. Wondering if any of the forward girls at the bar tonight realized just whose jeans they'd been shoving their numbers into, I watched Lisa and Niki start their number-one hit.
Even though Lisa had stumbled and fallen onto a streetlamp on our walk back to the center, she seemed completely with it as she sang about her imaginary heartbreak. When Niki stepped to her side to sing her part to her, she was so close I was sure she could smell the fumes wafting from her. Instead of facing the audience, Lisa and Niki kept the song insular, singing toward each other, virtually ignoring the crowd. It amplified the pain in the song. Flashbulbs went off like crazy, capturing every heated moment. When the song ended, Lisa made like she was going to storm off of the stage, like she was so angry she couldn't stand to be near her anymore; that matched the way the video ended. Niki changed it up, though. Grabbing her arm as she walked past, she yanked her into her body. Too drunk to resist, Lisa collided with her. Quickly reaching up, Niki pulled her head down to Lisa. Their lips collided next, and then the stage faded to black; only the flashes of cell phones lit up their bodies.
The response from the crowd was thunderous. I was so stunned, I couldn't move.
So much for Niki respecting Lisa's wishes.
Even though I was sure Niki had mainly kissed her in front of the audience for the photo op, I had the overwhelming sensation that she was also declaring her personal interest in Lisa. Her dramatic affirmation hit me like a wrecking ball in the gut. Well, of course she wanted her. Who wouldn't? But she was my wife, and she couldn't have her.
Knowing I was probably about to get myself kicked off of the tour, I stormed to the rear entrance to the stage where the performers would just now be stepping down. I felt my hands balling into fists and wondered if I was about to clock a superstar. I wanted to. Niki's gone too far.
As I worked my way to the back, Lisa was stomping down the stairs and shoving people out of her way. Her face matched my fiery mood. Evan was a step behind her, calling her name. Niki was on the top of the stairs, her hands on her hips. "You're overreacting, love," she called after her.
Lips tight, Lisa closed her eyes. I paused and watched her. That was usually the face she made when she was about to rip someone's head off. Turning back to Niki, she pointed up at her. "I told you, not on the lips!"
A sweet smile on her face, Niki breezed down the stairs past Evan; she tensed as she noticed Lisa's expression. Niki stopped at Lisa's side and put a hand on her rigid arm. "I got carried away by the heat of the moment. Won't happen again." She shrugged, her long, sleek ponytail bouncing around her shoulders.
Seeing right through her, I stepped forward. "Hell right, it won't happen again!" Maybe it was the liquid courage in my belly, but I suddenly wanted to give this woman a smackdown. Yeah, definitely the booze talking. "She doesn't belong to you!"
Someone grabbed my shoulders as I lurched forward. I thought it was Lisa at first, but looking behind me, I saw one of Niki's ever-present bodyguards holding me back—Thing 2, I think. Face serene, Niki stepped in front of me. "Lisa's a person, love, so she doesn't belong to anyone."
She gave everyone watching a cool glance, like all of this drama was beneath her. When her eyes returned to mine, there was fire in the dark depths. "And in case you didn't notice, she didn't exactly pull away from me." Her challenging eyes swung to Lisa; her jaw tightened, but she didn't say anything. Satisfied, Niki stalked off, and Thing 2 let me go.
I huffed as I straightened myself. She had a point. I locked eyes with Lisa. The people around us resumed what they were doing now that the mini-fight was over. Evan patted my shoulder as he walked away with the other D-Bags. Lucas tore Jackson away. Thankfully, or maybe unthankfully, no one from the media had witnessed the "lovers'" spat. I didn't know what to think of my wife at the moment. Part of me understood—she was a performer, she was on stage, she wouldn't have made a huge spectacle in front of so many people. The rest of me had Niki's words wrapped tight around it like a vice. She hadn't pulled away. Had she kissed her back?
Not able to stomach looking at her anymore, I turned on my heel and stumbled away. She was behind me a second later. "I'm drunk, Jennie. It happened so fast, I didn't have time to—"
Spinning around, I lifted my finger to her face. "I know!"
I turned back around, and she continued following me. "Then why are you mad?"
Sighing, I turned around again. It made me a little dizzy. "Because I'm drunk too!"
When I attempted to spin around again, Lisa grabbed my arm. "Would you stop walking away from me, please?" Irritated, I gazed at her as best I could. "Are you mad at me?" she pointedly asked.
My feelings still swirling, I countered with, "I don't know. Did you kiss her back?"
Lisa's mouth dropped open, and I saw the struggle in her eyes. She could lie as seamlessly as she could sing. I'd seen her do it. It was one of the many issues that had held back our relationship for so long. It's hard to trust someone who was so comfortable being duplicitous. But I had absolutely no room to talk on the matter, so I tried really hard to never use that fact against her. We were both capable of horrible things. Which is why honesty was so important to us now.
Mouth in a firm line, she told me, "Just for a micro-second." As my eyes misted, she started rambling. "I'm drunk, she caught me off guard. It was instinct. I moved my lips once, just a tiny fraction of an inch, but I didn't do it again. I pushed her away when I realized what was happening, but the lights had already blacked out by that point." She tossed her hands up. "Jackson's gotten more action out of me, but I have to say yes to be honest with you."
I wanted to be angry at her, I really did, but I understood her too well, and I was actually sort of proud of her for telling me a painful truth when a white lie would have been so much easier. Sniffling, because it did hurt a little bit, I slung my arms around her neck and pulled her tight.
"It's okay," I murmured in her ear, "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at her."
Her body relaxed against mine. "So am I."
