“No need to explain. Have a good show.”
“Thanks,” she nearly whispers as her intro blasts throughout the stadium. She struts onto the stage with a beaming smile.
“Portland! Thank you for having me. Let’s start off with my number one song from the album—Knot Thot.” The crowd goes wild as she starts the song. She commands the stage as she sings and dances. All of her backup dancers are Betas and they move alongside her with immaculate precision. I hold up my phone and take a quick picture and send it to Kelsey.
Watching her on stage you would never see the woman who felt insecure during that interview yesterday or has a messy bedroom and can’t seem to tell her agent to go fuck himself. It’s clear that she separates who she is as Cami Jenson and Deja Fox.
I haven’t been to too many concerts like this. The production of it all is a collective effort and is extremely impressive. She smiles as she sings her latest hits and her fans are nearly rabid as she sings their favorite songs. She attempts to touch their hands and make everyone in the stadium feel like she is putting on a private show just for them.
It’s about an hour later when her show is over and she’s covered in a sheen of sweat. It’s the first time I can smell her scent, andfuck, it’s just like a strawberry shortcake. Her scent is easily one of the sweetest Omega scents I’ve ever smelled. She’s panting and catching her breath when I hand her a bottle of water.
“You did amazing,” I tell her.
She smiles. “Thanks.” She’s clearly exhausted. Omegas tend to need more rest than the other designations. The amount of energy she just exuded, she should spend the rest of the night relaxing.
“Cami, baby, great show! I have your fans ready to meet,” her agent, Garth, says. I really hate this guy.
“Garth, I don’t think I can. I’m exhausted and you know I don’t like meeting fans when my scent is so prominent.”
“Cami, they already paid. Do you want to let your fans down?” This manipulative fuck.
“Okay, but for the rest of the tour, this can’t happen.”
“You got it,” he says, and I don’t believe him for a second.
Miss Fox grabs a towel and starts wiping down her sweaty body. She takes some deodorizer and places it on major sweat glands. She almost looks like she wants to curl into a little ball on the floor and pass out. I want to tell her not to do this, but it’s not my place. I’m her security, not her Alpha.
“If you get uncomfortable, tell me, and I can get you out.”
She looks up at me, and the corner of her mouth twitches, and she nods her head.
I follow behind her as we all head to the green room where she will meet her fans. I wonder how much it costs to be a part of the meet and greet. When the door opens, I’m already on edge. I can scent the different Alphas in the room, and I notice the pebbling on her smooth skin.
“Here she is guys, I told you she would be worth the wait,” Garth says with a manic smile across his face.
The first Alpha approaches her and holds out his hand. Miss Fox politely shakes his hand, even though he lets the embrace go on a little too long. I notice him smell his hand once he finally lets her hand go, and it nearly makes a growl rip from my chest. Nothing pisses me off more than entitled Alphas, not after the way I’ve seen my sister and so many other Omegas get treated like nothing but a thing and not a person.
“Even more beautiful in person, the show was amazing,” the Alpha says, and she politely smiles and nods her head.
“Thank you so much for coming. Is there anything I can sign for you?”
“How about LJ’s chest?” one of the other guys says and a bunch of them laugh at her expense.
“No body parts, please,” she says, and I wonder where was the bossy side I saw from her earlier today? I can tell that she’s just completely beat. Her eyes are half-lidded and she looks like she just wants to lie down.
“Fair enough. How about my shirt?”
Miss Fox nods her head and signs his shirt. The Alpha looks down at her in awe.
“All right, let’s get some photos,” Garth chimes. What’s this guy’s deal?
With her Deja Fox mask firmly in place, she smiles widely for the pictures. They engage her in small chit-chat. I don’t even know her well, and I can sense she just wants to get the fuck out of here.
“Miss Fox has an early morning. We’re flying to the next destination of the tour. Thank you for coming to the show,” I say as politely as I can muster. Garth looks like he wants to punch me in the throat, and she looks like she wants to cry or pass out, not sure which. I easily ignore Garth, I wish a motherfucker would, and I place a hand on her lower back. I can feel her push into the touch slightly.
“Of course, good luck with the rest of the tour,” one of her fans says.
“Thank you for coming. Drive safe,” she tells them as we walk out the door.
