Did I mention how hot she is?
The next two hours are a clusterfuck of media, crazy fans, loud music, photos, raffles and the appearance of the band. The entire time, Amanda is engrossed. While the music plays, she listens, eyes closed, fingers drumming. She talks to fans about what they like and why they like it. Favorite concerts and homemade t-shirts. One fan, a young girl with wrists full of crafted bracelets, explains that she made a different bracelet for every CnC song and asks if Amanda wants one.
“I’d love one! But I don’t know many of their songs. Surprise me. Give me one I should listen to if I want to truly understand the heart of the band.”
The girl is super excited, and Amanda actually wears the bracelet.
After that, she talks to the band, and I watch from across the room at her energy and personableness.
“She’s really something,” Noah nudges me. I almost forgot he was here.
“She seems to enjoy it,” I say, trying to keep an indifferent face.
“Enjoy it? Bro, she’s in her element. I don’t know how you found a woman who is both hot and talented, but you did it. She’s a unicorn.”
I glance at him, my arms crossed. We are standing behind the counter away from the chaos. Meanwhile, Amanda is right in the middle of it. I don’t love it but there’s half a dozen security guards standing by the band alone.
“She’s different than anyone I’ve ever known, that’s for sure.”
Noah smiles and nudges me again.
When the band makes their way back to their bus, we take the opportunity to leave too. We walk down the back hall and out the door. Cameras flood our vision again. The bus is parked as close to the building as possible, though some fans have still managed to get close enough to reach out and touch the guys. Meanwhile, we follow two guards off to the side where the Escalade is parked.
“That was crazy,” Amanda laughs, holding her dress as we walk.
“That was nothing. Wait until we go to concerts,” Noah grins.
Just then, a photographer dashes under the tape and runs at us. One of the guards blocks her from getting too close and I pull Amanda against me and widen my stance.
“Mr. Hardin! Is this your wife?”
Fuck.
I knew it was only a matter of time before people did their homework (or dug into business they don’t belong in) but it’s still a loaded question that I need to answer carefully.
“She’s the love of my life,” I say with a tight smile, pulling my shades out and covering my eyes. Meanwhile, I have my arm around Amanda. She has one hand on my shoulder and the other on my chest.
I can literally feel her heart pounding into her ribcage in panic.
“Does this mean you will be the next CEO of Hardin Records?” the woman asks.
Jesus Christ. They never relent. I’m about to knock the camera clean out of her hands when Noah steps in, his Hollywood smile in full force.
“That’s how familial hierarchies work, isn’t it? Nothing gets past you.”
While Noah is doing what he does best, getting a tan in the limelight so I don’t have to, I realize most of the security is focused on getting the band safely to their bus, which has opened up a valve for the paparazzi to leak in our direction.
The cameras are flashing.
People are yelling.
And Amanda looks terrified. She brings her hand to her face to cover it. And I pull her hand down, lowering my face to hers.
“Look at me,” I smirk. “Don’t look at them. And don’t look like we did something wrong. Give them what they want, and they’ll have no story.”
Amanda swallows hard, her body softening against me.
And I kiss her.
