Chapter 39: The Live Wire
Allie
The next morning, I heard Gracie open our door and pad over to the side of the bed. I opened one eye to look at her, but before I could say anything, I heard Nico whisper to her over my shoulder.
"Good morning, princess. You're up awfully early." His low, sleep-roughened voice made me smile. I could get used to hearing that first thing every morning.
"I gotta get ready for school, Daddy. If I'm late, I can't go on the field twip." We really needed to work on those 'R' blend words, I thought yet again. I made a mental note to ask Miss Rosa about it when I dropped Grace off today.
I reached out to snag my phone from the bedside table. It was only 6:12 in the morning. My alarm was set for 6:30, so I could have slept for another eighteen minutes. Ugh! I was so not a morning person.
"Gracie-girl, we have plenty of time to get ready, I promise. Go make your bed quickly, and I'll get breakfast started."
She nodded and padded out of the room.Nico tightened the arm he had slung over my waist, holding me in place against him for a moment before letting me go. He patted my ass as I got outof bed, and I turned to find his eyes glued to my bare legs under my nightshirt.
"I'm glad tomorrow is Saturday, Sunshine. I'm looking forward to snuggling with you in the morning," he said with a soft smile.
"You aren't planning to snuggle with me when we get home tonight?" I asked, arching a brow at him.
"Gracie will be spending the night with your parents tonight. I plan on fucking you until we're both too weak to get out of this bed," he growled, lunging across the bed to make a grab for me. I squealed and hopped back out of his reach, almost falling over my own feet in the process.
Nico flopped back on his pillow and laughed, telling me to be careful before I hurt something important. I flipped him off over my shoulder as I strolled into the bathroom to start my day.
Two hours later, after getting Gracie dropped off at preschool and getting a referral for a speech therapist from Miss Rosa, I headed into the office for the day. I had an overflowing email inbox that took several hours to wade through, followed by a late lunch with Michael and Lana to go over the final arrangements for the publicity tour. The guys were scheduled as guests for several popular talk shows and late-night shows, as well as radio shows, podcasts, and print interviews over the next month.
Tony, Matt, Josh and Nonna had lunch at The Grove as planned, with Marco and one of the other bodyguards along for crowd control if necessary. Apparently, once Nonna had found out from Becca that Tony was going to out himself, she invited herself along in a show of support. Tony was happy to haveher with them. The first photo hit online within ten minutes of their arrival. The paparazzi captured them walking together, Nonna strutting along on Tony's arm, with Josh and Matt trailing behind them, all wearing their shirts as planned. Nonna had gotten one for herself that read"Love is Love. If you don't believe that, then fuck you!"God, I adored that woman!
Within twenty minutes, a crowd of paparazzi and fans swarmed the foursome, and Marco and the other guard hustled them back to the waiting SUV. I watched the video on TMZ. Tony, by choice, was the last one to get in the vehicle. The paps had been shouting questions at the group, trying to confirm the story. Since Tony's shirt, with the flag indicating bisexuality, was quite different from theLove is LoveandProud Allyshirts the others wore, the savvier photographers zeroed in on him.
One of them shouted, "Tony, is this a message? Are you bi?"Tony stopped as he was entering the backseat, then turned and flashed a big smile. "Yes," he said simply, then turned and got in as Marco shut the door behind him. I was so fucking proud of that man, yet at the same time, I hated that a person's sexuality was deemed newsworthy. The human race was pretty shitty, sometimes.
My phone pinged non-stop for the next hour, with alerts popping up from every news outlet picking up the story. Speculation was running rampant as to who, or what, had prompted Tony to "come out of the closet". I finally shut my notifications off so that I could get some work done before I headed over to the Live Wire. I would be helping with the last-minute preparations for the show there this evening. It was a kick-off event for the album release next month. The record label liked the guys to do a few shows at small, intimate venuesto showcase the new material ahead of any upcoming album release.
The Live Wire in downtown Los Angeles had been around for years. It was a 600-seat capacity venue which typically hosted up-and-coming bands and musicians, along with the occasional comedy tour. Big names, like Storm Front, would do small shows with very little pre-promotion from time to time to try out new material or amp up interest in an act before a new album or a tour. Storm Front had performed there a few times over the years, the last time being about two years ago. They'd headlined a benefit concert to raise money for people who had lost their homes in a huge wildfire a few counties north of here.
Mid-afternoon, I pulled into the parking lot of the venue, with Michael's intern pulling in right behind me. The intern, a nice but slightly cocky college senior named Miles, carried in the boxes of Storm Front T-shirts, posters and assorted band merchandise which would be available for sale that night. Miles would be staffing the merchandise table with help from a friend of his. Normally I would lend a hand, but Michael and Nico had both put their foot down about that. I was now "too high-profile" to mingle so freely with the fans and general public at events like this.
I understood, but it still sucked. I'd always loved interacting with their fans, and hearing how much they loved the guys and their music. For the most part, anyway. At times, some of the fans would get a little over-enthusiastic about their love for particular members of the band. I'd had to deal with a number of groupie-wannabes who would slip me messages, photos, and phone numbers to pass on to the guys. I'd even had a few offer me cash if I would sneak them into their dressing room. I wouldn't miss that part of it. But the general excitement ofhearing their favorite band live, or their reactions to new songs? That I would most definitely miss.
After showing our ID, we were allowed into the building so we could begin setting up. After about an hour of hustling around unpacking boxes and setting up tables, I was hot, sweaty, flushed and my Storm Front T-shirt was decidedly rumpled. I really needed to leave soon, but I hadto meet with the venue's booking manager to take care of a couple of last-minute details and she hadn't arrived yet.
I wasn't looking forward to the interaction. Jenna Davis was rude and generally unpleasant to deal with, unless you were a hot male rockstar, of course. Then she was nice as could be. She had hung all over the guys at their last performance here two years ago, especially Nico. She had treated the rest of us like dirt under her shoe.
There had been some scandal involving an affair with the married venue owner a few months after that last show. His wife had insisted that Jenna had to go, so she had gone to work for a club in Vegas. I hadn't been sorry to hear that she was gone. Michael had informed me this morning that she was back in town working at The Live Wire again. Apparently, the once-married venue owner was now divorced, imagine that.
The assistant manager let me know that Jenna had just arrived, and directed me toward her office. I knocked on the open doorway and she turned toward me, a look of barely concealed disgust on her face as she eyed me standing there.
Her blonde hair was perfectly styled in long, beachy waves and her make-up was on-point, if a little heavy for my tastes. I, on the other hand, had started the morning with a ponytail anda bit of mascara, both of which were less than immaculate at this point in the day.
"Yes?" she asked in a snotty tone, as though I were a lower-life form she clearly had no desire to speak to.
Her rudeness of two years ago had morphed into full-on bitch mode now. Lovely. I flashed her my ultra-polite, professional smile and stepped into the room. I extended my hand to her as she remained seated behind her desk.
"Hi Jenna, I'm Allie Donovan, Michael Drummond's assistant. I won't keep you, but I did need to go over a couple of - "
"Alice, or whatever your name is, I don't have time to hold your hand through this process. I'm sure you can figure out whatever it is you need to set up your little table of T-shirts without my input."
Oh, hell no. Nope, not today, Satan.
