Chapter 20
My heart raced with the soft hum of anticipation before the music started and the stage lights flooded the Puffle Yum Stadium in Los Angeles. I was finally there, under the spotlight by myself, showing the world that I didn”t belong in the background. The stadium was packed with an enormous crowd, and the surge of electricity coursing through me made me feel unstoppable.
I started my set a cappella, in the darkness, followed by a smidge of guitar. And then the lights came up, the band joined in, and this was happening. I let the music guide my movements, embraced the glittered jumpsuit Hans” team—my team—suggested, and let it be my turn. The crowd was seriously into this and if I let it, this whole thing would definitely give me a god complex.
Angela and Emily showed up to support me on opening night. They would”ve come no matter what, but it didn”t hurt that my invitation came with backstage Dimefront passes.
Sloan flew in, too. From the side of the stage, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. And when the last note of my songs faded, and the spotlight clicked off, I stood breathless.
I blinked away the fleeting imprints the bright lights in the stadium left in my vision, and the dreamlike quality they added, before the crew whisked me off the stage.
Dimefront came out right behind me. Their lead singer, Bax, offered a high-five on his way past. And when the first chords of their new song hit, the crowd went bonkers again.
Backstage, hands reached out toward me, guiding me past the cords and boxes, curtains and people. Out the exit door, I headed for the meet-and-greet tent with Sloan right behind me. I turned my head to confirm, and despite the distractions and the clamor all around us, his gaze met mine for a moment. The unspoken conversation between us transcended the noise and the excitement.
He mouthed, ”You were amazing.”
My heart swelled at the compliment.
”Angela and Emily aren”t coming out, yet,” I said to him. ”They wanted to see the Dimefront guys.”
The junket with a few press and a handful of influencers for interviews wouldn”t be nearly as much fun for them.
Moving from the darkness of backstage to the bright sunlight, I squinted as I made my way past the line of waist-high metal fencing that blocked the area between the stage and the tent. Fans along one edge of the fence clamored for autographs and selfies. Hans had told me this would happen. He’d also told me to hoof it to the tent, wave, and smile, but nothing more, because there wasn”t time for me to pause.
As much as I wanted to stop, sign things, and say hello, I followed Hans” instructions and kept going.
”Maya,” one guy near the front of the fence shouted so loud, I couldn”t help but turn his way.
He humped the air as he continued to yell my name. ”Maya! Come have a go!”
The lewd motion definitely caught my attention and made bile rise in my throat.
Sloan yelled back to the man, ”Back the fuck off and show some respect!”
The guy tried to jump into the fenced area, but he couldn”t get his leg over the metal rail. Even if he had succeeded, two security guards were already there, pushing him back over to his side.
The thing was that I was safe. Sloan was at my back, and a security guard was at my side.
That guy couldn”t get to me. I tucked my chin and motored forward, head down.
”Fine. Keep walking, bitch!” the man shouted, and he spat in my direction. It full on sounded like he’d hocked a loogie.
When somebody called a person a bitch, or they spat phlegm in their direction, the tendency was to stop and reassess the situation. Which was what I did—I stopped short.
”Keep going.” The security guard at my side shuffled me forward and, okay, I had a lot of emotions about this. But security dude was correct; now wasn”t the time. I gulped and committed to hustling to the tent when it seemed to get colder behind me.
I turned to confirm Sloan was still there, but my pulse kicked up because he wasn”t.
He stalked toward the guy with his fists balled, his chin jutted, and a general fierceness that made me worry he”d end up in prison if he kept that direction.
”Sloan,” I called, but he didn”t seem to hear me.
I started back toward him, but the security guy shook his head. ”No. We keep moving.”
I did not, in fact, keep moving. But I didn”t follow Sloan, either.
”You have something to say?” Sloan asked, stalking toward Mr. Hump-the-Fence.
My heart was racing, and this wasn”t how I wanted to end my first time on an actual stage as a solo artist.
The guy seemed to shrink back from the bulk that was Sloan towering over him.
”I asked if you have something to say,” Sloan said, not getting in the guy”s face but definitely too close for my comfort. Close enough to take a swing if he wanted to.
”No.” The guy shook his head. ”Nothing to s-s-say.”
He seemed terrified, and well, so was I.
And not because there were paparazzi and cameras everywhere, but Sloan looked like a man ready to fight for my honor. To be clear, no one needed to be injured on behalf of my honor. This was the twenty-first century, and my honor was just fine, even if some guy humped the air when I walked by.
”Sloan!” I called as loud as I could. So loud, my voice cracked.
After the performance and the overall excitement, screaming his name like that didn”t feel great.
”No one messes with what”s mine,” Sloan said to the guy, low and deep and serious as hell. ”We clear?”
The heckler had turned a strange shade of gray, but he nodded all the same.
Honestly, I think everyone in the vicinity nodded. Sloan was that serious.
Sloan nodded and smiled huge like this was Finn or Darius, and they were just shooting the shit. ”Good. That woman is my wife. You see her ever again? You do not look at her. You do not talk to her. You turn and go the other way. You get me?”
The other guy nodded again, and honestly, I felt a bit gray myself.
Sloan started to walk back to me, but he stopped. Turned on his heel and said, ”You ever have the chance to be in the presence of beauty like hers again? You show some goddamned respect.”
I didn”t know about everyone else, but I gulped. Hard.
Sloan said nothing else as he took his place behind me again. His slow gait and nonchalance made it seem as though nothing had happened.
”You need more security,” he said, simply.
We were still in public, and I was riding on so many feelings all in a short period, I needed a second to process.
I waited until we got to the big, white, circus-style event tent. I pulled my husband aside, sighed, and said, ”Sloan... what the hell was that?”
”That was a fucker who needed to be set straight,” Sloan responded.
He didn”t seem to understand why I might get distressed at his choice to approach said fucker.
”Security had it handled,” I said, crossing my arms.
”I helped them,” he replied. ”The dude threatened you. That doesn”t happen on my watch.”
”This isn”t your watch,” I countered. ”This is my job.”
He didn”t reply to that.
”And now, you”ve made a scene. Now, when I go into these interviews, what I say doesn”t even matter because everyone is going to be talking about you and…and…Sir Humps-a-Lot!”
His expression faltered, and he was genuinely thinking about what I”d said.
”If I don”t get to stop and sign autographs, you don”t get to stop and play security,” I said with a huff.
”Okay,” he said.
”That”s it?” I asked.
”Yeah.”
”That might be my least favorite response of all the responses,” I said.
”What happened out there? I get it. It shouldn”t have happened,” Sloan admitted, staring at the asphalt floor. ”None of it. The guy being so close to you, me confronting him, or you feeling like you got upstaged at your own event.”
He looked up at me with those damn puppy eyes, and the good dose of mad I”d been nursing disintegrated.
”We”re married, but we”re equals in this relationship. And people like that are going to be everywhere,” I said, stepping into his space and dropping my forehead against his chest.
He pulled me against him. ”But he was here, and I was here, and I didn”t think. I just acted. I”m sorry about that.”
”It would be so much easier to stay angry at you if you”d argue with me about this.” I stepped back because I had interviews to get to.
He pulled his lips between his teeth. ”The media loves me when they get a whiff of a scandal. This won”t go in my favor. We both know that.”
”Since we”re a team, it won”t get edited in my favor either,” I said, deflated.
”I am sorry,” he apologized once more. ”I promise not to do that again.”
I nodded and headed back to my team. Hans stood there, and he didn”t look pleased, but he rarely looked pleased, so that wasn”t anything new.
”Maya,” Sloan called my name.
I turned back to him.
”Are we good?” he asked.
I nodded. ”We”re good.”
* * *