Chapter 19 Alexander #2
“No. Why?” My mom’s quizzical expression does nothing to abate the rising fear inside me.
I take a deep breath and motion Rob over with my hand.
“We’ve got an issue,” I say, looking at my mom. “They’ve given Rita their tickets.” Rob bends down to hear my lowered voice, noticing my hand playing with my watch.
“Shouldn’t we have? She seemed so genuine.” My mom’s voice trembles.
Rob bites his lip. I hear an exhale coming from his nose.
“Okay. Leave it with me.” He nods and escorts my parents away to ask them questions.
And this is why I tell her not to be so helpful.
“Sorry about that,” I say, shaking away the irritation and the tension in my shoulders. I file the issue of Rita away in the back of my mind. Rob’s got a grip on that now.
Christopher starts to speak, but Kelly gets in before him.
“Does everyone in here work for you?” she asks, her gaze taking in the various huddles of people in the room.
“Pretty much,” I say, grabbing another handful of candy.
Thankfully, I’m locked away in my dressing room most of the time. It can be lonely there, but it provides some peace. It’s a space where people aren’t bothering me.
“Is it always like this backstage?” She reaches for the bowl of candy, but stops when she notices the plaque. “Wow, this is so cool. Can I?” She puts her hands on either side of it to lift it up.
“Sure,” I say, smiling as she lifts it up to study it.
“She’s an art teacher, a sucker for design work.” Christopher says.
“You can have it if you want?”
I’m so keen to make a good first impression that I feel myself overcompensating to win her approval. As if giving her this plaque will buy me some brownie points.
“I couldn’t possibly, it’s yours.” She puts the plaque back down on the bar.
“I’ve got hundreds of these back home. Honestly, you’ll be doing me a favor.”
If my mom won’t take it, at least it can go to good use elsewhere.
“Told you I should have brought a bigger bag!” Kelly elbows Christopher as she smiles and thanks me.
“Shall we head somewhere a little quieter?” I offer, starting to feel claustrophobic. It’ll be quieter back at my dressing room, and that way I can get to know Kelly and spend time with both of them without prying eyes watching my every move.
“Sure,” Christopher says, nodding.
“So. Tell me more about your brother,” I ask, leading the way to the door. “What’s the most embarrassing story you’ve got?”
I shoot Christopher a side glance, the corner of my mouth lifting.
“Don’t you dare,” Christopher responds as he follows behind.
The audience is still screaming as I pause to take a sip of water.
“Last night, I performed this next song live for the first time,” I say. I take in the banners in front of me.
Marry Me Alexander.
I want a Stolen Moment With You.
“The crowd was great, but I have a feeling that this song will go down even better tonight.”
The crowd screams even louder as I look across to Block 111. I’m relieved to see Christopher and Kelly seated next to my parents, giggling away. Rita Watson is nowhere to be seen. Rob thankfully located her before the show started and got the venue security to escort her from the premises.
“This is Stolen Moments.”
The crowd roars as Andy starts playing the intro. Christopher looks away from my mom and toward me. Our eyes connect as I begin to sing, and it’s as if the other nineteen thousand people have drifted away. I’m performing to an audience of one.
As the chorus kicks in, I pull out my in-ear monitors to hear the audience singing back the words to me. Warmth engulfs me from inside. The track doesn’t even come out for another twenty-six hours, but they already seem to know the words.
I wish I could capture this moment right now. Bottle it up and keep it. Freddy raises an eyebrow when I look across to him. Surely this is a better way to launch the track than as an exclusive first play on a radio show, or a banner on a digital streaming platform.
By the time I’ve worked my way backstage, after taking a quick moment to wipe myself down with a towel in my dressing room, the VIP bar backstage has already filled up.
The room is buzzing with energy. Half of the people hold plastic cups with beer and wine in them.
Clearly the request to keep backstage completely free from alcohol fell on deaf ears.
Nathan, who I’ve managed to avoid since Monday night, greets me at the door, surrounded by several other label employees. He introduces me to many I already know, and a few I don’t, from Spotify, Apple, and .
“That new track is a hit!” Nathan says, pulling out his phone.
“Yeah, it’s a great track,” a tanned guy with a Liverpudlian accent says.
“Thanks,” I say as enthusiastically as possible. I try to keep my focus locked on them, knowing that schmoozing is an important part of the gig, but I want to locate Christopher. To find out what he thought. Ask what he and my mom were laughing about.
“Look at the numbers on TikTok.” Nathan waves his phone around at everyone. “There’s already thirty thousand people using the snippet we delivered earlier today.”
They collectively raise their eyebrows, clearly impressed at the statistic.
Nathan has many flaws, but he’s always had the gift of the gab. He could sell sand to an Arab.
The brief reprieve allows me to look around the room, and I notice Christopher and Kelly lingering awkwardly at the bar.
“Would you excuse me? I need to go and sort something out,” I say, placing my hand on Nathan’s back.
“Was great to meet you all and thank you so much for coming tonight.” I shake everyone’s hand before shooting off to the bar.
I pat down the Velcro on my stage trousers, which I didn’t get to change out of before coming in here.
“Let’s head to my dressing room,” I say to them both, nodding toward the door.
As we head down the hallway, the ringing in my ears starts to subside. A few of the crew acknowledge me as they move in and out of the various dressing rooms for production and management.
“What did you think?” I ask, turning to them both.
“That was insane. I’ve never heard an audience so loud in my life!” Kelly says, her eyes widen as she almost bumps into one of the flight cases.
I want to prolong the conversation, to ask more questions, but all I really care about is what Christopher thought.
“Is this your dressing room too?” Christopher says as he notices the sign above the door. It’s the second of two rooms allocated to me backstage. This one is just down the hall from the other one we sat in before the show started.
“No. It’s Brad Pitt’s,” I say, shaking my head as I reach for the handle.
“Oh right. Sorry. I guess one room’s not big enough to fit your ego in.” I look back to see a smirk across his face.
“I guess the dry wit has come out of retirement,” I say. I push the handle down to open the door and motion them to go through. I slap Christopher’s ass as I enter behind him.
“Oh honey, there you are. You were great.” My mom gets up from the couch, giving me another vice-like squeeze, ignoring both Christopher and Kelly.
“Thanks Mom. Glad you liked the show.” My dad gives me the thumbs-up as he heads to the fridge to retrieve a Gatorade.
I’m desperate to know what Christopher thinks, but I’m not going to get any oxygen in here. Not with my mom taking over the show.
“Could you look after Kelly for a minute?” I ask her. “I just need to discuss something with Christopher.” My gaze darts between the two of them.
Before she has a chance to respond, I motion to Christopher to follow me.
Thankfully, I know of a place backstage where no one will disturb us. There’s a secret bar hidden behind the wardrobe, just down the hall from my dressing room.
“What’s this?” Christopher asks as I open the wardrobe doors.
“Our own little private space.” I give him a cheeky wink as he enters.
“Is this where you bring all your muses?” I pull the doors closed behind me and turn to meet his lips.
God, those lips. I could stay attached to those plump pillows of his forever.
“Oh no,” I say, pulling back and grabbing his hand. “I take them to the one at the end.” I lead him to the bookcase at the end of the bar and motion to him to pull down one of the books. The hidden door opens to reveal a small snug room with a padded couch.
“Aren’t I the lucky guy?” he says, his brows rising.
He pushes me down on the couch and starts to kiss me passionately.
Usually I’m the one initiating sex, even if he’s the one that ends up dominating, so I’m instantly turned on by this. But I really want to know what he thought.
I push him back, lifting my head slightly.
“Tell me, what did you think of the show?” I prop myself up on my elbows.
“Well,” he says, his hazel eyes staring deeply into my soul. “Maybe I could be a fanboy after all…”
“Could you?” I narrow my eyes as a smirk forms on my face.
“Well, maybe not a fan boy. I’m not sure I’m willing to build a shrine in my room and convert to the cult of Alexander.” He gives me a wry smile as his hands grip at my trousers, pulling them down. The Velcro comes undone on the sides.
“Oh fuck,” he says, letting go. The wry smile is replaced by a gasp.
“Don’t worry, they’re meant to do that,” I say, standing up. I tear them at the sides to show him, and discard them on the floor.
“Nice to see you putting in maximum effort for minimal mystery.” He claws into the back of my neck with one hand as the other pulls down my briefs to release my cock.
This time there’s less haste and more passion as I tear the clothes from him. Our mouths are insatiable, like we can’t get enough of each other, like this is the Last Supper and we are devouring every mouthful.
I ignore the faint sound of my name coming from outside as Christopher pushes me down on the couch and covers my mouth with his hand.
He spits in his other hand and rubs his saliva all over my cock before slowly lowering himself onto me.
His pupils dilate as he bites down on his lip, pauses to adjust his hips, and then begins a rhythmic movement back and forth.
His ass muscles grip my shaft tightly as he begins to pick up speed.
He keeps his hand over my mouth as the sound of my name gets louder. His hips do all the work, his cock rubbing up and down against my abs. His thrusts get harder and faster as he rides my dick like a cowboy trying to control a bucking bronco.
He has the same dominant look in his eyes as when he’s fucking me. As he continues to pound down on me, he takes his hand away from my mouth and begins working on his cock with the same intensity.
I fight back a moan as I hear my name from outside the secret room get louder. Christopher shakes his head at me to not respond, while refusing to stop. He’s clearly turned on by the whole situation. His ass muscles grip my cock even tighter with each successive thrust.
I can feel myself getting close when my hips start to buck upward. There’s a clapping sound from the downward thrusts of his hips meeting my upward thrusts, which send him higher above me. The sound of my name is now right behind the door. And I can finally make out who it is. Rob.
I raise my hand to push Christopher off me, trying to fight back how close I am to climaxing, but it’s too late. Rob bursts in just as I explode inside of Christopher. He has a devilish grin and I turn to see Rob’s eyes darting away, unsure of where to look.
Rob has barely been able to look at me the whole drive back to the hotel.
Christopher laughed off the whole thing as Rob left us to sort ourselves out. I’m sure Rob just wants to get me in my room and then head to his own room to forget the whole thing happened.
I give a brief wave to the fans, once we pull up to the front entrance and exit the car, and then I enter the hotel behind Rob. I’m instantly hit with an eerie feeling that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
The staff and a couple of hotel guests linger in the foyer looking at me, before turning their attention to their right when an almighty shriek sounds.
Rob pushes me back, just as I hear another shriek that could probably be heard ten blocks away.
My leg catches Lucy’s, who almost stumbles to the floor before Paul manages to save her.
When I turn back, I make out Rita, storming down the stairs from the atrium toward us. She’s laser-focused, a fire in her eyes. Her blond hair is disheveled and her white blouse is completely open, exposing her bra. Her black leather skirt looks more like a belt.
“Where is he?” Her voice echoes around the foyer as I duck behind Rob.
“Take him to the elevator,” Rob says under his breath, standing firm, as the rest of us follow the local security guard.
“Alexander. Alexander.” The first is a plea, the second is outright anger.
I lift my head and instantly regret it. Her speed picks up from a stride to a jog.
“Keep your head down,” Paul says sternly, as Rob blocks her path.
I duck my head again, noticing a couple of people holding their phones up as I do.
What is she doing back here?
Is she delusional? Does she actually think we’re in a relationship?
“Alexander! Why are you ignoring me?”
“You need to step back, ma’am,” Rob says, blocking the hall down to the elevator. The local security guard frantically presses the button.
“Get your hands off me!” she screams, causing me to turn and look at her.
She claws upward at Rob’s face, her red nails landing on his cheek. Rob grabs Rita by the waist and pulls her up over his shoulder.
“Get off me. Get off me!” she screams. She starts whacking Rob’s back with her fists as he begins to walk away.
My chest tightens at the sight.
I snap my head around as the dinging sound of the elevator arriving sounds and the doors open.
Just get in. Just get inside.
I take one step forward, before I’m compelled to look back one more time.
“Alexander, don’t do this. How dare you betray me in front of all these people. After everything we’ve been through!” Her face contorts like she’s been possessed by a demon.
Paul pushes me into the elevator when my legs refuse to move, and I collapse against the wooden wall as the door closes.
What the fuck was that all about?