When was the earliest time I could leave the tour?
But what the hell? Cornelius had done up this schedule like Kings had just been arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct. Which he hadn’t been.
This year.
“What are you doing?” I hissed at the manager, gesturing at the schedule.
“Nothing,” he said, but Cornelius’ stupid boot-licky face was shining.
“Why do you have him out here doing a tour like he’s a saint? You know this can’t last. He can’t keep this up.”
“Yes, he can!”
I flipped the paper around, trying to ignore the nightmarish interview in the background, how the muscles in Kingsley’s arm flexed as he held Dolly tightly.
“Look how many charity events you’ve scheduled for him. Charity concert at the zoo? And what’s this shit? He’s supposed to have an original song for the endangered black-footed ferret benefit concert? Has he already done that?”
“No, that’s what you’re here for.”
“The hell I am! I’m not writing with him anymore.”
I said it without thinking, but suddenly it was true. It had to be true.
A panicked look crossed Cornelius’ face, but he stuffed it quickly down.
“That is a lot of time Kingsley has to behave himself. I don’t think he can do it.”
Cornelius pulled in annoyance at his tie.
“As you can see,” he said slyly, gesturing over to Kings and Dolly on the other side of the plane, “There’s a new Sheriff in town, Rosalie. You’re not top dog anymore. He can do this. He’s about to transition into a more distinguished phase of his career.”
I rolled my eyes and said nothing. It wasn’t any of my business anymore. I didn’t think this dirtbag had changed, but it wasn’t my job to care.
I was finally done with him.
When we arrived at the private airstrip, obviously word had already gotten out about Kingsley’s arrival, because there was a veritable mob out in the street by the waiting limo. Police were having to divert traffic around the tightly-packed crowd, and they were working overtime to keep his fans from literally surrounding the limo and chewing it down to the wires.
Kingsley, of course, only grinned and loped off the plane, followed closely by his private security Roberto and Jacob, both massive hulking men the size of a barn. They took their jobs very seriously.
“Can I get your bags?” Matt asked, smiling in his usual friendly way to me.
He was broad-shouldered and thickly muscled, with a shock of bright light-blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a very engaging crooked grin.
I glanced out the window to see Kinglsey surrounded by a mob of fans, a Sharpie in his hand.
He was signing tits, ass, foreheads, belly buttons, whatever the women presented to him.
“He doesn’t look ready for family-friendly entertainment to me,” I said as Kingsley tore off his shirt and flung it into the crowd.
Matt hoisted both our suitcases in his arms and I followed him down the stairs.
“What was he like when you first met in college?” Dolly asked in awe. “I wish I’d been there.”
“He was exactly the same as he is now,” I said sourly.
Always the center of attention, the golden boy. No matter what he did, it didn’t fucking matter. Women adored him anyway. He could be coming home from a 24-hour bender smelling like 24-hour fish and chips, and it didn’t matter.
He’d have a line of eager pussy halfway down the block. And he’d go through them all and then text me at 6 am wanting to go out for a burger.
