Page 41 of A Crazy Kind of Love
One of the girls we’d followed backstage approached me. “Are you with Micah?”
That was a tricky question. “With Micah?”
She lifted her hand to her hip. “Are you his girlfriend?”
“No. Just a friend.”
She took a step back and ran her eyes from my head to my feet and then half smiled, like she’d won some imaginary contest only she was aware of. “Then if you don’t mind, I’m going to try my luck with him.”
As if he was an overstuffed toy at a carnival. “Step right up! Win yourself a Micah Sinclair.”
I usually tucked my Georgian upbringing away, hiding it from New Yorkers who mistook it for rank ignorance. But the only thing I could think to say to this girl was, “Well, bless your heart.”
She relaxed as if I’d just given her my approval, but Zion had a wicked grin on his face.
Encouraged by our apparent bumpkin-ness, she went on. “I’ve hooked up with even bigger musicians.”
Zion said, “How nice for you!”
I thought I might burst out laughing. I feared she’d go into graphic detail, so I pointed out, “The line’s gotten shorter. Here’s your chance!”
She fluffed her hair and readjusted her bustline. Then she threw me the shittiest expression of superiority I’d seen since high school.
My dad had taught me to reserve displays of arrogance until after I’d achieved a victory, but this girl had obviously never gotten that lesson. In fact, I got the impression she was putting on a show for my benefit. I’d given her no reason to think I’d be jealous, and I wasn’t. Maybe she lived in a world with a different currency than mine.
Zion asked, “You got any popcorn?” and nudged me forward so we could hear the entire exchange.
As she moved closer, I checked my own smug arrogance. I’d forgotten that Micah’s last three girlfriends had been groupies. Maybe this was how it had started. The realization made me feel queasy. I laid my fingers on my wrist to check my pulse and make sure the queasiness wasn’t a sign of imminent danger. My pulse hammered. I slipped a cookie out of my pocketbook and handed another to Zion. Nibbling cookies while intent on the unfolding drama, we looked like we were watching a TV show.
At last, the girl had her moment. “Hi, Micah. My name’s Kendall. I’m a big fan of your music. Great show tonight.”
“Thank you, Kendall. It’s great to meet you.”
I had to hand it to Micah. He didn’t show any signs of exhaustion or boredom. Every smile seemed real. He engaged 100 percent with whomever he talked to. And each of them had to feel special. I knew how it made me feel when he focused that charm on me.
Kendall went on. “I’m only in town for the night and wondered if you’d like some company. Maybe you could give me a personal tour of the city?”
I nearly groaned out loud. I wondered if that had ever worked for her. She could have just as easily said, “I’m available for free sex, no strings attached.” Though I supposed it would have been more awkward to turn that down.
As it was, Micah put a hand on her shoulder. I’d noticed he did that frequently. A little tap on the arm or a handshake that lingered. He seemed to make a concerted effort to touch every single person he spoke to. And most of them weren’t even aware he was doing it. I tried to recall if he’d done the same with me, suppressing a chill as I pictured all those little moments when he’d touched my hair or tapped my shoulder. Or wrapped his arms around my waist.
I suddenly wished this meet and greet would end and I could find a way to get Micah alone. Maybe I could ask him for a personal tour of the city.
“That’s very generous of you, Kendall. Unfortunately, I’ve already got plans for the night.” He lifted his eyes in my direction and winked. Right at that moment, I empathized with Kendall, fervently wanting to tell him I was free for an evening of no strings sex. One night with him was all I was asking.
She flipped her hair. I supposed that was her signature move. “I don’t mind waiting.”
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t want you spending your only night in the city waiting around. But thank you. Would you like an autograph or a picture?”
And just like that, he’d reduced her from potential hookup to fawning admirer. She politely declined and turned toward another band member, perhaps hoping to have better luck. She never again glanced my way. I tried to muster up some sympathy, but the well had run dry.
Eventually, the band members began to leave the room. Micah successfully extricated himself from the last fan and made his way over to me and Zion. “Ready?”
“For?” I asked.
“Come on. I told someone I had plans with friends tonight. Don’t make me a liar.” He held out his hand. I stared at it unsure what he expected. I took a chance and placed my hand in his. He closed his fingers over mine and began moving toward the door. He led us down the hall to an exit. It hit me as I trotted along that he’d never stopped to see my photos—like he’d completely forgotten about them.
As the door opened to bursts of light, I had this horrible fear that Wally would be standing on the other side. I took advantage of the transition from inside the nearly deserted backstage and the eruption of sound and light outside to twist my hand free from Micah’s. The last thing I needed was to be featured in a news story pitting me as Micah’s next conquest.
