He shrugged with a sly grin. “I’ve always wanted to have sex at my prom.” He bumped his growing erection against my thigh. “Thinking I might get my wish if I ask you.”
“Don’t get it twisted. I had a moment of weakness. Only my boyfriend is going to keep getting these goodies.”
His hands moved to the small of my back, pressing me into him. “Then will you be my girlfriend and go to the prom with me, Jamaica Bennett?”
Happily, I nodded before I lowered my head to slide my tongue in his mouth. Freedom moved me on my back and asked for consent with his eyes before he entered me again.
And as he promised, the second time was so much better than the first.
“Thank you, St. Louis,” I spoke into my wireless mic and defiantly threw my Cowboy hat into the audience against my manager’s advice, walking away without a backward glance at the chaos I’d just caused. The crowd roared and applauded, continuing their standing ovation as my band played on while my fans fought for control over my discarded hat.
Wendell, my manager, rushed me and blocked my path. “Are you trying to cause lawsuits? We swore we wouldn’t toss anything in the audience anymore unless it were confetti from the ceiling. Too many people get hurt when you throw anything. If you want to be a part of Zo Taylor’s World Tour, then you can’t keep ignoring the rules.”
Wordless, I moved around him and stuck my preferred cinnamon-flavored toothpick in my mouth, then pulled my guitar strap over my head to give my guitar to one of the stage assistants, who handed me a towel. I wanted to laugh thatAlonzo had done more than his share of damage in his long career as a hip-hop artist, and he needed my fans to help sell out the big ass outside arenas in those other countries. We were a good combination, with his old-school and new-school rap and my genre-mixing of country soul and rap. We would be a force on tour as long as I kept it business. Alonzo Taylor couldn’t be trusted as a friend.
“You keep it up, and I swear I’ll quit. You’re not worth the liability,” He yelled from behind me as I continued walking, wiping my sweaty face and bare chest. I didn’t listen to his bluff. I was his highest-paid talent, and he made too much money off my tours to walk away from me. Money allowed bad behavior. Poverty punished it. I’d been on both spectrums, and whether or not I did the right thing didn’t bring me closer to the peace I longed for.
The small crowd standing around the backstage area wore broad smiles, snapped photos, and clamored for my attention before I headed to my bus. I waved out of habit at no one in particular, the many faces and shouting demands all blended into one as my temples began to pound viciously. I needed relief and started squinting. The migraines worsened the longer I attempted to appease these people who were only attracted to my fame and not me. After a few more minutes of barely answering questions and taking photos, I strode toward the exit. Ignoring various members of my team beckoning me to stay for more of the insanity, I headed straight to my tour bus. The cold air hit my naked, perspiring chest like bricks as I trudged up the stairs inside the open door of the bus.
“Over already?” Sammie, my long-time driver, asked.
“Not for them. They’re still inside, hoping I’ll come back in.” I gestured to the auditorium behind me. “No one else is getting on this bus until Oklahoma City. I need quiet.”
He smirked. “Not even any of the ‘Freedom Lovers’? St. Louis has some fine ass women.”
Sammie referred to my fan base, which was primarily women who would seize any opportunity to get close to me, especially when I toured. Lately, I wasn’t feeling the random hook-ups or the wild sex. I wanted more. Her doe eyes flashed before me, and I cursed silently. “Not even them. Andeverycity has fine ass women.”
Sammie laughed louder. “Not every city.”
Squeezing his shoulder, I commented, “Agree to disagree.”
Sammie glanced at the back of the bus and then back at me. “Everything is set up for you in your room.”
“Thanks, Man.” Rubbing my temples, I strode past the small dinette area with the glass table and shiny new stove and sink. The lounge area with the plush leather sofa and TV usually beckoned me after a concert to wind down. Nothing like a beer and catching up on the latest sports or stream surfing until something caught my attention. I’d discovered that I preferred my tour bus to most hotels. It was like my home away from home. Tonight, I craved the feel of nothingness and sleep.
When I entered my bedroom, I picked up the bottles of OxyContin and Tequila that Sammie had left. The liquor chased the pills down my throat. My jeans soon followed my boots, and then I collapsed on top of my oversized King bed into a blissful unawareness.
The cell blastingBeyoncé’sJust For Funwoke me up with a start. Groggily, I grabbed it and greeted, “What?”
“When are you supposed to be in Dallas?” Peace, my younger brother asked.
“We’ve been through this…in two weeks. Did I not send you tickets to my concert?” I tucked the phone against my ear and turned on my side. Migraine replaced by the grogginess of a hangover.
“I mean exactly when. The day before or the day of your concert?”
“Technically, the tour bus arrives the day of, but I can arrange to fly in before. Why?”
“Oak Valley High wants to give you special recognition at your fifteenth class reunion, the night before your concert. I do some contract work there, and the current principal reached out to me because she didn’t know how to contact you.”
“The school that didn’t give me my diploma now wants me to honor them with my presence?” I checked my watch. In an hour, we would be approaching Oklahoma.
Sound check in five hours.
Concert in nine hours.
I could sleep a little longer after I ended the call.
“Bro, you know you weren’t exactly innocent back then, and you eventually received it a year later.” He chuckled. “Besides, your classmates would love to see you. They didn’t make the decision for you not to get your diploma.”
