She nods, playfully. “Yup, she’ll fuck you up.”
“How rude. You came to my concert. Why can’t I come support you?” I ask, leading her to the restaurant and holding the door open for her.
She gives me a desperate look that says I’m making her feel bad. I smile. “You told me I could stalk you. There’s no keeping me away now.”
“I take it back,” she hisses.
“No deal,” I answer, and before she has time to protest, a high-pitched squeal makes us flinch.
The server girl is staring at me while pawing the waitress next to her, who’s dropping all the menus in a crescendoing waterfall to the ground. One of the managers comes jogging over and does a double take, then glares at them until they recover.
“Reservations.” I show them my phone and the confirmation from where Arty booked under his name like a total newb.
“Ladies, check Mr. Arty in, please,” he instructs before sliding around to look at the table map.
Once the server is done picking up the menus, he points to where he would like her to seat us. She nods her understanding.
“Right this way,” he says, leading us through the restaurant. “Maggie will be your hostess and get your drink orders. I’ll be back once you’ve had a moment to get settled and introduce your waiter.”
“Thank you,” I reply, glaring at him as he pulls Vivienne’s chair out.
He excuses himself, and we order drinks.
“Maggie,” I say once the manager is gone, “if you can be cool and not attract any additional attention to us, I’ll totally take a picture or sign something for you.”
“Oh my gosh, that would be so amazing. My best friend is going to be so jealous,” she gushes. “I’ll tell your waitress Kat to be cool too. Kat’s short for Katrina. I don’t know why I said that.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear nervously, smiles, and stammers, “Okay, I’m going to go get your drinks now. Bye.”
“Well that was nice of you,” Vivienne says, and it’s refreshing not to hear a single note of jealousy in her voice.
It dawns on me she doesn’t care, because to her that’s normal fan stuff. Hmmm. I decide to test my theory. “So that didn’t bother you?” I ask. “You’re not upset?”
Vivienne shrugs, scrunching her face up. “Of course not. You have fans and you have to be nice to them. I’m pretty sure I don’t have anything to worry about considering you just flew from—“ she pauses, “I apologize, I don’t know where you flew from to see me. That’s actually how much I don’t even know about you.”
She shakes her head surprised, almost disappointed. I make a mental note to slow down. She obviously needs to feel more of a connection, and I don’t want her to think I’m only here for sex. At least, I don’t think that’s why I’m here. I mull it over. Admittedly, I know I’ve used girls for my own personal pleasure in the past, but with her it’s different. It’s not like that. I didn’t fly thousands of miles to hook up. I came here to take her on a date because I couldn’t stay away.
Before I can tell Vivienne anything, Maggie comes back to the table and sets the drinks down. She leans in to whisper, “I promised to be cool, so I wanted to give you a heads up. Mymanager is an asshole, and he totally just sold you out to the paparazzi. I don’t know how long you have until they show up.” She runs off, leaving Vivienne staring at me shocked.
“What do we do?” she gasps. “Do we need to leave?”
“Do you want to leave?” I chuckle.
“No,” she answers. “Why are you laughing?”
I shrug. “If you don’t want to go, we can let them take their pictures and enjoy our meal, or we can get our order to go and try to make an escape before they crash dinner. I’m pretty sure I have enough money to rent out the entire theater if we find an empty one.”
“I was fine with having dinner until you mentioned option number two. I’ll be honest, it just sounds way more fun.” She’s grinning from ear to ear like she hasn’t had this much fun in ages.
Damn. I love when a girl can roll with the chaos. “Do you want to brave the paparazzi or hide in the van?”
She makes a face that screams yikes. “I could throw you to the wolves, or I could be brave. What do you want me to do? Do you want to be seen with me in public, Mr. Rockstar?”
I groan low enough only she can hear. “I would want to be seen anywhere with you, little muse. It’s settled. Come sit on my lap, you’re staying.”
“Cas,” she hisses. “This is a family restaurant. It needs to be PG. My audience is family-friendly at all times. I’m not sitting on your lap. You better try again.”
“Fine, my little partner in crime. But you’ll sit on my lap at the theater and let me feed you the chicken penne,” I counter.
“Or what?” she cocks a brow at me.
