Page 53 of Grip Me Tight
Sterling winces. “Sorry.”
I shrug. “It would have happened sooner or later.”
The woman turns back. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but aren’t you Tanner Steele?”
I nod, my hand tightening around Sterling’s, when the woman squeals. It’s strange, I’ve been through this situation a million times and I know the routine, pictures, autographs, and even a bold proposition or two. It’s part of the job, but this time I don’t to do it alone. I want Sterling close to me and as she leans into me, the barest thread of music winds through my brain with lyrics falling right into place. I’m startled because it’s been so long since that’s happened, and I nearly yank her off her feet.
The couple in front of us, steps back. “We’re so sorry,” the woman says, “but I just love you.”
Her boyfriend nods eagerly. “Is the whole band here? Are you playing somewhere?” His eyes slide to Sterling. “Would you mind getting a picture of us?”
“Are you okay with this?” she asks quietly, turning to me so no one overhears her.
“It’s hard to walk away now. Besides we’re supposed to get ‘caught’ right?”
Her lips twist in a wry smile but she raises her free hand to my chest, soothing me. “It’s always like this for you, isn’t it? They feel like they own you.”
The excitement of the couple in front of us is attracting the attention of others in line and soon the whispers escalate to murmurs and excited shouts. I take my sunglasses off because there’s no point in trying not to be noticed now. Sterling lets go of my hand, and she’s edged away by the crowd starting to gather around me. Someone thrusts a phone at her, and I want to shout that she’s not an assistant and pull her back to my side, but she obliges, giving directions on how to stand to get the best light, while two women around her age come up to pose with me.
“Oh. My. God. Oh. My. God!” One of the women is fluttering her hands around me, her voice pitching up into shriek territory. “You are so gorgeous!!”
“So are you, sweetheart,” I respond automatically, my eyes searching out Sterling, but she seems to be taking it in stride, kindly acting as the photographer for anyone who wants a picture. The woman wraps her arms around my waist, and I force myself to relax, tilting my lips up into a smile I know translates well for these photos. The one thing that’s really difficult to get used to is the easy way people invade my space, touching me like I’m public property.
I guess in a way I am.
Her friend slides in on the other side. “Can I get an autograph, Tanner?” Her voice is sultry, and she deliberately presses her breasts into my arm.
“Of course. What would you like me to sign?”
She clinches me tighter, dragging the already low neckline of her top down to reveal her cleavage. “Right here, honey.” She’s close to flashing the line-up in front of this small-town café. Generally, people want us to sign clothing, posters, maybe a napkin or one of the album liners from the limited edition releases we do, but occasionally fans request us to sign body parts. Arms, legs, cleavage. Blaine once scrawled his name across the backside of three women in his bed. Lined them up cheek to cheek, as it were, so when they lay together, their butts formed the canvas for his elaborate signature. But here, in the middle of a bright, sunny, afternoon this woman is two seconds away from a major wardrobe malfunction. She licks her lips and leans even closer. “Or we can go somewhere else, and you can put it anywhere you want.”
Her friend gasps and even I’m a little taken aback by the blatant invitation in front of the seven-year-old kid who’s standing with his dad. I shift a little, trying to ease the boa constrictor death grip she has on my waist, only to feel her hand snaking down to cup my ass. I’m always gracious to my fans, but this kind of groping is awkward. After a concert, everyone is riled up, sexed up and the fans definitely get a bit aggressive, but these people just wanted some ice cream, not a raunchy visual.
I look around to see Sterling making her way to me. She’s got an armful of white fabric and her lips are set in a firm line. She looks like a stern teacher who’s fed up with her unruly class. I wonder if I can convince her to give me detention later. Her hair swings around her shoulders, a gorgeous fall of silvery blonde against the pristine white of her sundress. Goddamn she’s beautiful. And irritated. I gently disengage from the women clinging to me and take whatever Sterling is carrying. I look down. T-shirts?
“You’re going to pay for these, by the way,” she says.
I hold one up. ‘It’s Yummy’ is scrawled in a script font. I turn it around and see the ice cream shop’s name on the back. She passes me a hot-pink sharpie. “The guy inside gave me this too.” She smirks at the woman massaging my ass. “Much easier to sign.” Sterling looks back at me. “I promised I’d post our ice cream date too, and they’re wondering if you’ll wear a shirt.”
“Our date?
She tosses her hair and reaches for a t-shirt, passing it to the dad. “I think this constitutes a date, right?”
The girls on my side swivel their heads back and forth between me and Sterling. “Is she your girlfriend?” asks the kid, pulling the shirt over his head.
I step away from the girls and extend my hand, dragging Sterling to my side. “She sure is, buddy.” I take off my shirt, creating a small frenzy as cameras point at me. I tug a café shirt from Sterling’s hand and put it on, holding my arms out with my hands pointing in toward the ‘It’s Yummy’ logo, rap star style. She laughs while she holds her phone up, getting a picture of me and then slowly moves across the crowd, capturing the people in front of the store. I uncap the marker, and sign my name, passing out shirts and posing for quick pictures, including some with the café’s owners. When I’ve gotten pretty much everyone, I sling an arm across Sterling’s shoulders.
“Sorry about our date getting derailed. Can I treat you to an ice cream, now?”
Sterling gives me a sweet smile, and despite her angel face, all I can think about is what I’m going to do to her when we get back to the cottage.
“Mmm, yes, please.”
We head inside where I order a decadent, chocolate ice cream filled with ribbons of fudge, caramel and brownie pieces. I lean against the counter while Sterling browses the options.
“I thought you had a plan for this already.”
She rolls her eyes. “I did, but then we ended up with your little promo tour there and I forgot what I wanted in the first place. I’m sorry about that by the way. I should have been more careful.”
