It wasn’t a greatshow.
Not forme.
I hit the shower in my dressing room. Then Brody, who’d flown down for the show, came by to talk to me, feel me out. He had his concerned manager face on, and he definitely felt the tension radiating off me a mileaway.
“You’ve gotta relax into it, yeah?” he told me. “This is the first show of like a hundred and forty. Don’t be so fucking hard on yourself. You hear thatsound?”
That sound was the thunderous stomping, yelling and singing of the crowd as they gradually left the building. Happyfans.
“I’m good, Bro,” I told him, mostly so he’d stop talking, and he fucking frowned. In his motorcycle jacket, tattoos and button-up shirt, he looked like he was ready to kick my ass if necessary—or worse, negotiate me into a bettermood.
So I moved on before hecould.
I joined the rest of Dirty and our opening band, Steel Trap, meeting some fans Jude had allowed backstage. They all had Dirty stickers on their shirts, a few of them scribbled with Dylan’s initials, which meant he’d invited them back himself. Must’ve met them outside before the show orsomething.
I did the rounds, signed some shit, posed for photos and tried not to look like a grumpy asshole. Usually the fans let that shit slide after a show, figured you were burnt out from rocking your assoff.
Shady stuck close to me the whole time. I’d already given him his instructions for this tour:Keep the fangirls offme.
Oh, andKeep the weedcoming.
That was pretty much the extent ofit.
This was Shady’s first Dirty tour, so for all he knew I gave my bodyguard those same instructions on everytour.
But this tour wasdifferent.
It was the first tour I didn’t actually want the fangirls all overme.
It was the first tour since I was—secretly—married to Maggie. And last thing I needed was anything making things worse between the two of us than they already were. She wasn’t in the room right this minute, but she often was. And either way, I knew she’d be watching me. Even when she pretended shewasn’t.
I knew she was still pissed at me. And I understood why—in away.
I knew she was pissed aboutDallas.
I knew she didn’t trust me not to screw my way through this entire worldtour.
I finished up with the fans, fast, and told Shady to get me out of there. While Alec and Jude organized cars for us, I rolled up a fat joint outside and smoked up with Dylan and Jesse. Went a little way to making me feel better. Or at least feel distracted as we fucked around, waiting for the girls to get their shittogether.
Apparently neither of my band brothers seemed to think the show was as bad as I did. But they weren’t the ones who’d fucked up theshow.
Then their women, Katie and Amber, came giggling outside from wherever the fuck they’d been, smelling of booze, and we rolledout.
No fucking sign ofMaggie.
Whatever.
I’d already made it known, to Jude, that Maggie’s presence was required tonight, which meant he’d make sure someone dragged heralong.
Not even Maggie could get away with buzzkilling everyone by bailing on the first-night-of-the-tourparty.
I got into a limo with Shady and some of my band, and by the time we arrived at the bar, the rest of Dirty, Steel Trap and a shit-ton of other people were already there. Even Seth wasthere.
None of the guys in my band were single anymore, but at least they still partied with me. Jesse and Katie were pretty much night owls, always good to go out. Dylan was usually down, often with Amber in tow. It was Seth who usually stayed in, since Elle, in her pregnant state, was usually in bed long before midnight. But tonight, he’d comeout.
First night of the tour, no one had any excuse to stay in… exceptElle.
By the time Jude got security organized and I’d smoked up again outside the bar with Katie and Roni, Maggie had arrived with Alec andTalia.
