Chapter 1 - Johnny - I Call Dibs
The crowd is insane tonight, rushing the stage as soon as the lights come up, screaming so loud that the floor rumbles beneath me. We’ve played a lot of shows in a lot of really cool places, but it’s always good to be home. And not just because the hometown crowd always screams the loudest.
Being in one spot for a longer period of time gives me the chance to find her. You know, ‘the one’. Someone to date for longer than a few days or weeks at a time. The guys like to give me shit for ghosting women after a few weeks, but when I know, I know. I’m not wasting my time on a person I can’t see myself spending my life with once I’ve figured out they aren’t the one. Plus, it’s not like I disappear without telling them first. I always break up with them before I block them.
It’s not like I’m a complete asshole. I’d probably call myself a romantic, actually. I’m looking for that ‘love at first sight’, ‘sparks and fireworks’ kind of love.
That’s why I pay extra attention to the faces in the crowd during a home show. I’m aware it’s probably not a good idea to look for my future wife in the crowd at one of my shows, but who knows when and where fate will bring me my woman. There is always the risk of the woman I meet just using me for my fame and money, but no risk means no reward. And it’s not like that hasn’t happened before. She wasn’t even a fan, just a model who was using me to boost her career.
We’re halfway through our set list when the lightning strikes. I see her and my heart stops. Tingles run down my spine. She’s not in the crowd. She’s in front of the fence, standing near security, and pointing a huge camera toward the stage. Toward me.
And she’s scorching hot.
She’s dressed casually, in jeans and a tight t-shirt, her curves making them look painted on. Her chin length, dark hair is just asking for me to run my hands through it. She has tattoos up and down both of her arms, and it looks like she has a chest piece as well.
I’ll need to get a closer look at those, for sure.
Fuck, I hope this is the photographer Denise was talking about. The one who is shooting the meet and greet after the show. Either way, I’m meeting her.
Tonight.
I’ll make sure of that.
Somehow.
I give her a subtle wink and a little smile. She lowers her camera and looks me up and down, her eyebrows raised, a little smirk on her dark red lips.
Oh yeah, I need to meet this woman. She clearly doesn’t care who I am. She’s giving me shit with just a look and fuck if it isn’t making me hard.
We play a few more songs and I can’t tear my eyes away from her the entire time. I’m probably creeping her out, but thankfully she’s working and not paying much attention to me. I know I’m coming on a little strong, but I have a limited time to make this happen. I don’t want to rely on the off-chance that I’d be able to find her if she disappeared right after the show.
Suddenly, Connor announces we’re playing an acoustic song that wasn’t on the set list at all. My guitar tech runs out and swaps guitars with me. I point out the photographer and tell him to get security to invite her backstage. Denise said no sluts backstage tonight, but this is my future wife we’re talking about here, not just some groupie.
By the time I look back at her, she’s gone.
Fuck.
There’s nothing I can do about it now, though. I have to finish the show.
We play a few more songs, and an encore, and finally the show is over. If that photographer isn’t in the dressing room when we get there, my plan is to ask Denise to track her down. If anyone can find someone, she can. She has her hands in everything involving our shows, going way beyond standard practice for a manager. She probably already knows everything there is to know about this photographer.
Once I step into the dressing room, I realize I won’t need to get Denise’s help. The sexy photographer is already here.
“Who isthat?” I ask, somewhat less than casually, when my eyes catch on the two women near the entrance to the dressing room. I hope my interest isn’t too obvious. The last thing I need is someone giving me a hard time about my love life. Again.
We’re scheduled for some meet and greets after the show we just played, but usually they give us a few minutes before letting people in. We all like a few minutes to contain some of the adrenaline coursing through our veins after performing before having to be on our best behaviour. I think I’ll let it slide this time, though, since it means that sexy photographer is here.
The woman with the camera is quite possibly the hottest woman I’ve ever seen. I’ve already decided that I need to get to know her. The other woman is also attractive, but the photographer is way more my type. Black hair, dark eyes, ass and tits to die for, and nearly every inch of exposed skin is covered in beautifully done tattoos. I couldn’t see them well from the stage but I can see now that the artwork is amazing.
As is the canvas.
I need to know if the rest of her body is also tattooed. Where do they stop? If I trace the flower on her right arm, does it go to her shoulder? Her back? All the way down to that sweet ass?
I tear my eyes away from her when Devon answers me and I almost feel a physical loss. Some force is pulling me to this woman and I don’t even know her name.
Devon looks over at the other side of the dressing room. “The photographer? Her name’s Becca. The other one isAlex.” He raises his eyebrows at me and Ryder, putting emphasis on the name ‘Alex’.
“Holy shit. Are you serious? Like ‘Alex’, Alex? ‘All I Ever Want’ Alex? ‘Better off Dead’ Alex? Connor’s long-lost songwriting muse and true love, Alex?”
