Chapter 13
Savi couldn’t sit still. She and Marco been flown out on Jesse’s private jet, and they were on their way to his show before they’d even checked in at the hotel.
His assistant’s assistant had met them at the airport and taken their bags for them so they could head straight to the venue, and Savi was yet again irritated that he hadn’t got his security detail together so that he could personally welcome them on the runway.
It wasn’t just about her. Marco was a guest of theirs, personally invited by Jesse so they could get to know one another, and Jesse didn’t have the decency to show up.
His excuse? Well, he hadn’t given one. She was used to his poor communication skills, but she was embarrassed by his lack of regard for her.
‘So… are we going to be shoved at the back of the arena, out of view?’ Marco asked, helping himself to the free champagne that had been provided in the back of the limousine. Savi was surprised by the choice of car, it seemed too flashy, but maybe Jesse was trying to make up for his absence.
‘Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve never been to one of his shows.’
‘What?!’ His genuine shock made her uncomfortable and she knew she shouldn’t have told him. She could no longer pretend that her boyfriend didn’t have a fair few red flags, and neither he nor she was giving Marco a good first impression of him.
‘The timing has never been in our favour.’ She shrugged it off, but Marco wasn’t shy about side-eyeing her suspiciously. The truth was, Jesse had never invited her, and she’d never asked.
‘I hope we’re not surrounded by screaming women, wherever we’re seated. I can’t deal with that kind of energy in my vicinity tonight,’ he grumbled.
‘You should be used to that, Monaco.’ She patted his knee to emphasise that she was making fun of him. They would most likely be standing the whole show, with other celebrities who were in the same boat, wanting to be undetected. She doubted Jesse would leave them to the wolves with no security.
‘Yeah but it’s fine when they’re screaming for me.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘What is it about cowboys, anyway? Racing drivers are way sexier.’
‘Should’ve put that theory to the test and worn your race suit to the show.’
‘It’s in the wash. But do you think Jesse will let me borrow a cowboy hat so nobody recognises me? I don’t want the humiliation of people exposing me as a Jesse Montalvo fan, because that I am not.’
‘Oh,’ she frowned, ‘we were going to get you a tour t-shirt to wear.’
‘No offence,’ he shot her a look, ‘I am not wearing your boyfriend’s name or face on my body. I worked hard to look this good, I would be doing myself a disservice.’
‘Fine, I’ll wear one on my own.’ She had a whole collection of his tour shirts which she wore to bed each night back home. Her brother hated seeing them out on the washing line.
‘Sorry, but I don’t think my fake girlfriend should be wearing another man’s face on her shirt, either. I will happily argue with the both of you about it.’
‘We’re here.’ She peered out the window as they drove to the back entrance of the arena.
It was huge, and so unlike any music venue she’d been to before.
She was used to bars and pubs with live bands, not huge events with tens of thousands of fans screaming along at the top of their lungs.
She didn’t know if her anxiety could handle it, to be frank, but at least Marco was now aware of her struggles and could keep an eye out for the warning signs.
‘Oh, wonderful. I cannot wait.’ Marco was laying it on thick with the fake enthusiasm, but it was just making Savi more amused. This must be strange for him, and for Jesse. It was certainly an interesting predicament for her.
They were let out of the limo by their chauffeur and shown into the backstage area by a member of the venue staff.
It was like a maze back there. Posters of various artists lined the walls, from rock bands to pop princesses and country legends.
Some were autographed, some not, and iconic tour outfits were in glass display cases.
A classic bedazzled jumpsuit belonging to Dolly Parton was among them, and Savi stopped to sneak a photo.
They even spotted one of Slash’s guitars which Marco spent a good couple of minutes drooling over, much to the annoyance of their guide.
They finally reached Jesse’s dressing room, with his name on the door on a laminated, white A4 sheet of paper.
Underneath ‘Jesse Montalvo’ it read ‘Artist’.
Savi wasn’t sure why she felt so nervous, why her anxiety was spiking.
Was it because she was about to introduce Jesse and Marco, or was it because she was finally being let into Jesse’s world?
A world she’d been excluded from for four years.
She didn’t know if she was ready to be exposed to the reality he lived in, and one that she was going to be faced with in six months’ time when this fake-dating drama was over and done with and she and Jesse moved forward together.
The security guy guarding the door looked terrifying. His jaw was set, arms crossed. He also sort of looked like the social worker from Lilo and Stitch, but she wouldn’t dare tell him that. Then he opened his mouth, and his scary facade crumbled.
‘Hey, y’all! You must be Mr Montalvo’s VIP guests for tonight’s show.’
‘Hi, Savi and Marco. He should be expecting us.’ Savi played with her rings as the man knocked on the door and stepped aside again. Please be in a good mood, Jess.
‘Hi, baby!’ Jesse greeted her with a huge smile adorning his features and pulled her into his arms for a kiss.
He didn’t shy away from showing her how much he’d missed her, sliding a hand down over her ass and clutching her tightly.
It was awkward with Marco and the security personnel standing directly behind her, just watching, because what else were they supposed to do?
This was the kind of PDA she couldn’t quite get on board with.
‘Hi. Jess, meet Marco.’ She detached herself from him and turned her body, inviting Marco into the conversation. That was certainly one way for Jesse to assert dominance.
‘Mr De Luca, good to meet you.’ His face dropped as he stuck out his hand and shook Marco’s in a firm grip, even Savi able to tell that it was already a battle of testosterone between them. Something was in the air, and she didn’t like it one bit.
‘Montalvo.’ Marco was blunter in his response, but at least he mustered a smile.
‘Come in, guys.’ He held the door for them and welcomed them into the dressing room, where Savi was met with the intense scent of his aftershave.
They were underground and there were no windows, but still, how did he not feel the need to sneeze non-stop?
‘How was your flight? My crew took good care of you, I hope.’
‘The drinks and salted peanuts were my favourite part,’ Marco said. ‘The Revolution jet is alcohol free for the most part, because of Brett’s past issues, and it sucks.’
‘But we do usually only use it to get to and from work events,’ Savi pointed out.
‘Yeah, there is that,’ he agreed. ‘So, is this all yours, Jesse? Or do you share with your band?’ Marco wasted no time in wandering around the room, taking it all in.
The dressing table was lined with basic makeup and hair products and sat underneath huge light-up mirrors, Jesse’s collection of one-of-a-kind guitars had a home next to the leather sofas, and the dressing table held a selection of whiskey, bourbon and the same champers the limo had been stocked with.
His cowboy boots were all lined up in a row of red, black, dark brown and beige and the closet was stocked with an array of plaid and denim shirts, suede jackets and plain V-neck t-shirts.
The whole room screamed Jesse, right down to the bags of Swedish Fish jelly sweets on the coffee table. He never went anywhere without them.
It was strange seeing his home away from home, but she concluded it wasn’t much different to her own lifestyle.
Her hotel rooms were all personalised by her boots and hats and race suits wherever she went, and both of them moved those things from place to place, city to city.
But as for personal belongings? Photos and keepsakes, memories.
Those things all stayed in their childhood bedrooms in Wyoming.
They were valuable, too valuable to take on the road.
‘The band has their own dressing room down the corridor. It’s a hell of a lot louder in there than it is in here, I need my own space.
I can’t deal with their bickering or constant strumming, not in the lead-up to a show.
Once we make it to sound check, different story. That’s when we morph into one.’
‘Knock knock!’ a female voice called out and Savi immediately felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
It was the one thing that made her nervous with Jesse’s job: the female attention that typically came along with the fame.
She wanted to trust that Jesse wouldn’t stray, but could you ever fully trust anyone?
But then Jesse’s manager appeared and her worries washed away.
‘Sapphire!’ She rushed towards her and wrapped her up in a warm hug.
‘Hi, Sav.’ The petite brunette returned the embrace, rubbing Savi’s back like no time had passed.
They’d mostly interacted via video calls over the last four years, when Jesse had been beckoned into work meetings while they were hiding out in the cabin, but they’d managed to hang out at Jesse’s place in Wyoming a few times, too. ‘It’s so good to see you again.’
‘Congratulations on the baby.’ Savi stepped back and smiled affectionately at the tiny bump she had. Well, it wasn’t that tiny really, not compared to Sapphire’s dinky little frame.
‘Congratulations on the fake boyfriend,’ she replied, then lowering her voice to a whisper, she glanced at Marco who was checking out Jesse’s vintage Fender without daring to touch it. ‘He’s quite the catch.’