I grunt in acknowledgement as Franklin drives us back to the hotel. Once we get there, cameras are swarming the entrance.
“Fuck,” I hiss. I nudge her, and she is basically dead to the world. Hotel security is pushing the crowd back as I unbuckle her belt and cradle her into my arms and carry her to the entrance. This is the first time at all of our stops that the press has known where she is staying and something doesn’t sit right.
The press shouts a bunch of random questions. “Are you Deja Fox’s new boyfriend?”
“Are you sleeping together?”
“Is it true she took drugs during the concert?”
It takes everything in me to not punch that last reporter in the face. I don’t know how she puts up with this, with the barrage of insults and constant invasion of her privacy. Is the music really worth it? As soon as I ask myself the question, I already know the answer. I’ve seen her on stage. It’s her passion, but damn, the price she has to pay for what she loves is steep.
As I continue to carry her into the building the flashes and shouts start to disappear, I feel like I can finally relax.
Cami doesn’t even flinch in my arms as I bring her to her bed. I remove her eyelashes and wig and place them on the nightstand. I head into her bathroom and find makeup removing wipes and scrub her face as best as I can. She usually wraps her hair, but I have no fucking clue where that would be. So I tuck her under the blanket and leave Tylenol and water by her bed for the morning.
This tour needs to fucking end. Five more stops and then we can both finally breathe.
In the morning, Cami thanks me for taking care of her and she seems more reserved than usual, maybe a little embarrassed.
The flight to Chicago is relatively quiet until she opens her email.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me?”
“What?”
“Young Memphis is a bastard. He’s offering me less than what he paid Lil Jazzy to do a verse on his last album.”
“Who is Lil Jazzy?” I ask.
“Fucking exactly.” She taps her finger on the table. “I can’t cancel. I already agreed to meet with him today.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t agree to do the song.”
Her cheeks flush. “I’m terrible at telling people no.”
“Then tell him to pay you more, or to go fuck himself.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Do you want me to tell him for you?”
She glares at me. She’s constantly telling me she doesn’t need an Alpha doing things for her, but it sure seems like she does. I would love to tell people to fuck off for her. “No, I can handle it.”
“I got your back,” I tell her and give her a wink. She looks at me wide-eyed like I’ve grown two heads.
“You’ll be excited to know, we’re meeting at his favorite deep dish place. Farquaad, or something,” she says.
“You mean Pequods? You watch too much Shrek,” I tell her, and she turns her head in embarrassment. “I still owe you waffles, by the way.”
She shakes her head and turns to type out her email. “I told him that I’m meeting him, but not agreeing to anything until we meet.”
“Good girl,” I say, and I watch as her cheeks flush and she shifts in her seat.
I’m fucked.
Chapter 6
“Goodgirl,”Smithsaysto me.
