Loving Dallas (9 page)
W
HEN
K
ATIE TEXTS M
E THAT SHE’S UPLOADE
D THE MEET-AND-GREET
photos from the show in Kansas City, I can’t resist opening them on my flight back home.
My flight back to Dallas.
You know what’s a dumb idea? Living in a city with the same name as your ex-boyfriend.
The first set of photos is Wade and a long string of posed pictures with his adoring female fans. I forward the best ones to Harvey on the social media team with a note to post them to the Midnight Bay website, as well as the Facebook and Twitter accounts.
The next group shows Dallas and there are nearly as many fan photos. A candid shot Drew took of his line shows that it’s nearly as long as Jase’s. I’m happy for Dallas and I’m relieved to see he’s not the tour underdog. But a few of the women in some of the photos have my insides twisting into knots.
Some of them are drop-dead gorgeous and have their bodies plastered onto Dallas like cling wrap. One in particular wears an expression that makes me cringe.
He’s not yours, Robyn.
Right. He’s not.
As much as it pains me to do so, I include the smoking hot brunette picture in the ones of Dallas that I send to Harvey. It’s a really good picture and it shows how very desirable he is. I can do this. I can be an adult about working with my ex.
But I might print myself a copy of that photo and throw darts at it in my office just for fun.
“E
leven percent. How crazy is that?”
“What? What’s eleven percent?” I lift my head off my desk when Katie barges in. Thank goodness it was her and not one of the Martins that caught me napping.
“Were you asleep?”
“No.” My answer is negated by the giant yawn that follows.
“You all right?” Katie’s round blue eyes are filled with concern.
“I’m fine. Just tired. Between Denver and L.A. and my layover getting delayed, I got in really late last night. I’m just a little drained.”
“I wondered why I didn’t hear you come in. I might have some ginseng tea in the break room. Oh, and I have ginkgo drops in my purse.”
“Thanks. I promise I’m good. Just need some good old-fashioned caffeine and more rest.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. You were saying something about eleven percent when you came in and caught me drooling on my desk?”
Katie laughs. “Oh yeah. I just ran into Louis from the finance department. He said they’ve been tracking the numbers closely since the tour kicked off so that Mr. Martin could evaluate the effectiveness of sponsoring it. And apparently, since the ads started running the week before the Denver show, sales are already up eleven percent.”
“Wow.” Eleven percent is a much larger increase than what our standard advertising typically generates. And it’s only been a few weeks since the promos went out that showed us as a tour sponsor, so it’s even more impressive.
“Apparently Jase Wade fans are big bourbon drinkers.” Katie plops down in the seat across from my desk. “Who knew?”
“That’s fantastic. I’m going to email Louis really quick and see if I can get a copy of the exact numbers. Are we running any other ad campaigns right now?”
“Just the ‘Make the Right Call’ spots about calling for a ride if you’re too drunk to drive. And the print and digital promos we’ve been doing every month.”
I send a quick email to Louis with my request. But if this is correct, if being a sponsor on the Kickin’ Up Crazy tour is upping sales this much this quickly, it’s one of the highest returns on advertising investment we’ve ever seen.
Which means a few things. One being that this is a route we definitely want to continue taking, sponsoring tours. And the other I try not to think about. Because if I value this company and my job at all, the last thing I should be doing is engaging in an inappropriate relationship with someone on the tour.
If it got out that Dallas and I had a history, there would be all kinds of questions about why Midnight Bay was sponsoring the tour he just happened to be on. The nature of relationships between artists and sponsors should be of a strictly professional and business nature. The public discovering that we’d slept together in Denver would reflect poorly on Midnight Bay. It might not get me fired necessarily, but it would probably cause me to at least be questioned by my boss and possibly his sixty-two-year-old uncle about topics I never want to discuss with either of them. Ever.
I say a silent thank-you to the universe that Dallas isn’t currently famous enough to have paparazzi following him around. Then I feel bad for feeling glad that he isn’t famous yet.
“You are so in your head right now,” Katie says, startling me as I chew my manicure to hell while waiting on Louis’s response. “What’s the deal? I thought an eleven percent bump in sales would be great news.”
“It is.” I nod. “I’m just a little worried about . . . you know.”
“Your little fling with Mr. Hotpants?”
I roll my eyes. “Very funny. Not exactly. I’m more worried about our history coming to light. I’m the one who pushed us to sponsor this tour and then I outright begged Mr. Martin to put me on the promo campaign. If it comes out that I have a prior history with Dallas, it might get complicated.”
Katie looks at me like I’ve said something ridiculous. “How so?”
“There were two acts previously scheduled to be on the tour that were asked to leave for undisclosed reasons. Dallas took the open spot. It might look like I was involved in that, or like I used company dollars as leverage to get him on the tour.”
“But you weren’t and you didn’t. You worry too much, girl. You want to get a drink after work?”
Katie stands to leave, and while I could probably use some girl time, I really am exhausted. “I think I’m just going to go home and crash. Tomorrow, though, I’m in.”
“Sounds good.”
Katie leaves and the email I’ve been waiting for comes through. I’m lost in sales numbers when my phone chimes with a text notification.
I tear my eyes from my computer long enough to locate my phone to my left.
She won’t answer my texts. Won’t take my calls. It’s probably all my fault.
What I don’t know is what I did to get myself on her do not answer list.
Hit me up, girl. Or just hit me.
I can take it, whatever you have to say. Anything you wanna throw my way.
Whether it’s a call you back soon or right hook. Give me what you got.
More lyrics courtesy of Dallas.
At least he’s writing, I guess.
I set my phone down and rub my temples for a few minutes.
I’m not avoiding him. That would be childish. I’m just avoiding . . . it. This thing between us that I can’t explain or contain.
My travel-lagged brain is too tired to compute a response.
I’ll text him after work.
I will.
Or maybe after I get home and take a nap.
I just have to figure out what in the world I’m going to say.
Thanks for the hot sex but I don’t think we should make it a habit
seems kind of harsh.
I’m ignoring you because I don’t want to lose my job for sleeping with you
doesn’t really work, either.
Should I just book one room for us to share from now on?
is what actually comes to mind.
No. It was a fling. A temporary rekindling of a flame that has long since burned out and nothing more. Because that’s all it can be.
A drink with Katie is suddenly sounding a whole lot more appealing. And necessary.
“
I
W
AS STARTING TO THINK
YOU’D DROPPED OFF THE EARTH.”
“Yeah, well, some days that would be an improvement.”
“You all right, Garrison? The man gettin’ you down?”
Gavin huffs out a breath and then I hear him tell someone in the background to hang on a fucking minute. Okay then. Clearly he isn’t hanging out with my sister at the moment. Or he has a death wish.
“I’m fine. Working at the Tavern. Still trying to get shit handled with my probation officer. I can’t really talk right now. But hit me up later. We’ll grab a drink when you’re in town.”
“It’ll be almost two months before the tour hits Texas. Quick question.”
“Shoot.”
“Robyn works for the tour sponsor. I saw her. I’ll be seeing a lot of her actually.”
“No shit?”
“No shit,” I confirm.
Gavin laughs. “And you’re asking
me
for advice about Robyn? I know as much about relationships as I do—”
“No. That’s not what I’m asking about.” Though a part of me does wonder if he could give me some insight into why she blew me off after our night together, I know it’s best if I appreciate it for what it was and let it go. I’m partially relieved she never responded to my texts because the last thing I need to be on this tour is distracted. I’m partially pissed-off, too, but I’m ignoring that part of me.
“You’re losing me.”
I huff out a breath while doing a quick check of the bus to make sure it’s empty. “That’s not the issue exactly. The problem is I’m also running into some of my former . . .” I don’t know what to call them without being disrespectful.
“Questionable choices?”
“Yeah.”
Gavin chuckles low into the phone. “I bet, Big Timer. Probably coming at you by the truckload these days.”
“If it was funny I’d be laughing. I’m serious here. I don’t want to be known as the manwhore of country music.”
“I don’t mean to be dick, D. But really, what did you expect? This is the reason half the guys we know play music.”
“That include you, Garrison?”
Dude who swears he loves my sister but has yet to tell me if he’s seen her.
“Nah. For me it’s about channeling aggression so I don’t walk around beating the fuck out of people on a daily basis. But for most guys, it’s about pussy. Period.”
“Well, I’m not most guys.” Why do I have to keep reminding people of this? Do I have “Johnny Guitar Player” tattooed on my fucking forehead?
“Right. So what’s the question exactly?”
“When you run into your . . .
questionable choices,
what do you do about it? How do you let them know you’re no longer interested without coming off like an asshole?”
Gavin laughs again. “There’s one major difference between you and me that you forgot to consider when consulting me for advice.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t give a flying fuck who thinks I’m an asshole.”
“I can think of one girl we both know who adamantly swears you’re not an asshole.”
“You obviously haven’t spoken to your sister lately. Look, man, I gotta get back to work. Keeping a job is part of my probation arrangement.”
“Hold up. Why? What happened to make Dixie change her mind? I thought you were running off into the sunset together and that’s why your ass isn’t on this tour with me.”
“It’s complicated, brother. Right now, she isn’t exactly speaking to me.”
I knew that was a possibility once he’d told her what happened while she was in college in Houston, but I figured they’d work it out eventually. “Christ, Garrison. Am I going to have to beat your ass when I come to town?”
Silence.
“I’ll take that as a maybe. Six weeks, man. I’ll be there in six weeks. You should probably get your shit straight with Dixie before I get there.”
“And here I thought you called me for advice.”
“That’s not advice. Or even a suggestion. You really care about her like you swore to me you did, then you do whatever it takes.”
“Working on it,” he says before I hear someone yelling at him to get the fuck back inside.
“Don’t get fired. I’ll hit you up later.”
“Later.”
After I disconnect the call I promptly dial my sister’s number.
She doesn’t pick up so I leave her a voice mail asking her to call me. She’s going to be pissed that I didn’t tell her Gavin was home. But I thought he was going to tell her. I thought he was getting his life together and that she’d be a part of that. Apparently I was wrong.
I hate being wrong.
T
HE AMPHITHEAT
ER IN
G
REENVILLE IS
LARGE AND HAS A SLIGHTLY
different setup than we’re used to so Katie and Drew and I get creative. Or rather, I plot.
Placing Dallas’s meet-and-greet on the east end of the stadium seating means I won’t have to interact with him as much. So I set up the red line bottles for his display and take the blue line ones to the west end.
I tell Katie she’s in charge and leave Drew with her. For Jase’s side of the display I will have to be both organizer and photographer, but that’s fine. Drew loaned me his spare camera so I familiarize myself with it while I wait for the venue to start letting fans in.
Jase joins me while I’m testing out the flash.
“Whoa, darlin’. How about not blinding me before the show?”
“Sorry, Mr. Wade.” I lower the flashbulb.
“You can call me Jase. You’re Robyn, right? I think we’ll be spending enough time together to refer to each other on a first-name basis.”
“Right. Of course. Whatever you prefer.”
“Well, that’s a dangerous thing to say. I don’t think you could handle what I would prefer.”
He nails me with a wicked grin and I can’t even pretend to contain my shock. Apparently Dallas can’t, either.
“The fuck did you just say to her?”
I practically twitch out of my skin in surprise. I didn’t hear him walk over. But Jase just grins and holds his hands up. “Easy, killer. I was just being honest.”
Dallas clears his throat harshly and redirects his attention from Jase to me. “So where do you want me?”
The hard edge in his voice and the loaded question itself sends heat up my neck.
“Um, you’re over there. On the other end with Katie and Drew.”
Dallas regards me with anger and apprehension in his intense stare. I blew him off and now I’m separating us as much as I can in the one place we actually should be together. Maybe it’s immature, but I’m not in a place where I can watch women fawning all over him right this moment.
“You lost, kid?” Jase says to Dallas when he makes no move to leave. “She just said your display is over there.”
“You got a problem, Wade? I don’t recall her asking for your—”
“Okay, boys,” I interrupt, moving between them. “Everybody has an equally big . . . guitar,” I say. “To your corners. Fans are coming in.”
I place a hand on Dallas’s chest and shove him toward where his meet-and-greet is.
His fingers encircle my wrist reminiscent of the way they did in the bedroom not too long ago. “So this how it’s gonna be with us now?”
“We’re not discussing this now, not here,” I say, nodding toward the steady stream of fans pouring into the aisles.
“After the show then?”
“We’ll see.”
After I’ve wrangled him over to Katie, I head back to Jase, where fans are waiting impatiently for me to take their pictures. I apologize half a dozen times and get started. But the entire time, I can feel his eyes on me. More so when I have to step closer to Jase or when Jase comes over to talk to me between pictures.
I’m just doing my job, Dallas. Back off.
I try to send the message telepathically to him, but judging from the hard glare he gives me when he has to leave to take the stage, the message was not received.
“Y
ou cannot ever do that to me again.” I corner Dallas backstage after his show, having had time to grow angrier about his Neanderthal behavior. “How would you feel if I stormed into your meet-and-greets and snapped at your fans the way you went after Jase? Do you even know what could happen if you piss him off?”
“First of all,” Dallas begins, whirling on me, “I am not afraid of him. And second of all, he was out of line. If one of my fans got out of line like that and you called her out, I’d probably sport wood for a month from that memory alone.”
“You so do not get it. And here I thought you took this seriously.”
He zeroes in on me with the precision of a hawk. “Oh I take it very seriously. The question is, does he?”
“It was one night, Dallas.”
“Bullshit. Maybe it was one night
recently,
but we both know it’s a hell of a lot more than that.”
“You do not own me,” I state firmly, planting my hands on my hips. “So stop acting like you do.”
Dallas’s chest expands and he opens his mouth, but before he can say whatever asinine thing he has planned, Jase lets out a loud guitar riff onstage and the drums take off like a thousand helicopters.
“Come!” Dallas shouts over the din, reaching out and taking me by the elbow.
I follow because otherwise my head is going to explode from the noise.
Once we’re back behind the buses in a relatively quiet area, Dallas leans back against a trailer. “Look, I get why you blew me off. You’re right, it was one night and I don’t own you. But I don’t want to see you get hurt, either. How well do you know him? I mean, really know him?” He nods at the giant rendition of Jase’s face
“I don’t know. I know a lot about him. I had to. For my job.”
“But you don’t really know him as a person? Like you know me?”
“Are you looking to get slapped again, Lark? Because every time you insinuate I am screwing my way into—”
“Stop. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then say what you mean, Dallas. Quickly.”
“I hear him with fans. He propositions them. And Mandy says that’s why the two guys before me got kicked off the tour. Because they encroached on his female territory or some bullshit.”
“Okay. But I heard differently. I heard they got grabby with some girls, thinking they were owed a piece of ass just because they were on this tour so he kicked them off. Either way, I just work with him. I don’t have to approve of his values. I’m not planning to date him or whatever it is you think. I’m here to do my job . . . despite what happened in Denver.”
Dallas gives me this look, his blue eyes darken a shade, and his long, sleepy lashes lower as he blinks slow and takes a step toward me. “He treats women like objects. Like disposable playthings for his amusement. Do you know why you’re on this tour, Robyn? Do you know why you were handpicked to run this campaign?”
I fidget with the sponsor pass around my neck. “Because I worked my ass off and I asked to be a part of it. Because I gave a kick-ass presentation that blew everyone away.”
Dallas nods. “Maybe. But word on the street is you’re here because he requested you. Specifically.” He nods to Jase’s smirking face on the trailer. “And if he requested you, I don’t think it was your hard work that appealed to him.”
I
have paced up and down the length of Wade’s tour bus for the past hour. When he finally returns to it, he isn’t alone. A tall thin blonde and a curvy chick with hair similar to the color of mine flank him on each side.
“Hey, Robyn. What can I do for you?” Wade whispers something to each of the girls and they walk past me onto the bus wearing matching confident smirks. Ugh. Maybe Dallas was right.
Stop judging, Breeland.
Not your business.
“We need to talk. In private, please.”
A few guys from Wade’s band have walked over to see what’s going on. He tells them to give us a minute so they meander off.
“You look pretty pissed, but I can’t imagine what I possibly could’ve done to make you so angry with me.” He scratches his chin and adjusts his cowboy hat.
“I need to know something. The truth, preferably.”
“I’ll do my best. What do you need to know?”
I take a deep breath and just lay it out there. Either way, it’s better to know. Even if it will sting like hell to know I didn’t land this job on merit. “Did you request me specifically to head up the tour promo?”
Jase grins at me. “I did. Is that a problem?”
“Yes,” I practically yell at him. “Of course it is. What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t just go around requesting women like you are King Pimp of the universe. Just because your shameless groupies fall at your feet doesn’t mean all women are fair game. I am a professional, damn it. I work really hard at my job and I wanted to be on this tour because I was excited. I was a fan of your music and I hoped partnering with Midnight Bay would be the kind of opportunity that—”
“Whoa, darlin’. Rein it in a sec,” he says, throwing his hands up. I didn’t even realize I was charging toward him.
“What?” I demand, wondering what in the hell he could possibly say to justify his behavior.
His smile widens but his hazel eyes cloud over with a troubled expression. Like I hurt his feelings. Like that’s even possible.
“I did request you, Robyn. But not for the reasons you’ve obviously assumed.”
I take a deep breath and fold my arms across my chest. “Then why?”
“Because you’re young and smart and driven. Because you were the only one at Midnight Bay to mention social media integration in your presentation. Those were the words I was waiting to hear. You said them. So I thought you’d be the right person for the job. You also happen to be beautiful and I wouldn’t kick you out of bed if you were interested, but that had absolutely nothing to do with my requesting you for this tour. Scout’s honor.”
“So the comment earlier about what you’d prefer?”
“If my teasing you made you uncomfortable, I apologize. It’s a habit I just sort of fall into when I don’t know what else to say. I’ll make an effort to cut that out where you’re concerned. It’s unprofessional and uncalled for.”
“Well . . . thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
I feel two inches tall and if I had one wish right now, it would be for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
“So . . . we good?” He nods toward his bus. “ ’Cause I got—”
“Go. Sorry. In the future I’ll ask any questions I have without taking your head off first.”
Jase laughs good-naturedly. “It’s fine. You’re a woman in a mostly male-dominated business. I can imagine the shit you have to put up with. My hat’s off to you.” With that, he tips his hat. “And for the record, my groupies are pretty shameless. God bless ’em.” He turns and gets onto his tour bus, leaving me shaking my head and contemplating the many ways in which I could murder Dallas Lark.
