CHAPTER 8 DANNY
“What?” I demand, and Cooper just continues to laugh at me.
Maybe he’s nervous about his big plan for tomorrow.
I hope he is, the dick.
He’s laughing at me because I know every word to every Alexis Bodega song, but I’m far from ashamed.
The raw fucking talent she’s leaving behind on that stage is nothing short of magnificent. The way she draws from the depths of her very soul to belt out the words she penned is both beautiful and moving.
Nothing moves me. Seriously. Ever.
But right here, right now…I’m fucking moved, okay?
Maybe it’s because it felt like she was singing to me. Her eyes found mine more than once.
Did every person in this audience feel that way, though? Is she just that good a performer?
A rush of emotions has plowed into me all night, but those words—my love—lay heavy on my mind.
She gave him a funny look when he said that, like it was something he’d never said before. I don’t know the dude, but it sort of seemed like a joke—or his pretentious attempt at one, anyway.
All I know is she opened the door wider to let me in, she didn’t flinch when her longtime partner walked in, and she invited me to catch up after the show.
All that has to add up to something…right?
She only sings a handful of songs to open for Vail, but the truth is that she should be the headliner.
She’s the biggest pop star in the world, and the fact that she’s doing this with Vail is pretty spectacular—though they’re pretty damn big stars, too.
I enjoy their part of the show after Alexis leaves the stage, though I can’t help but wonder what she does while the headliner performs. She comes back out at the end of the show for a duet with Mark, the lead singer, but her eyes don’t find mine this time. Instead, they stay on Mark.
And when it’s all over, I sit in my chair in the front row as I try to figure out what the hell I’m going to say to her.
Good show seems too impersonal.
You’re my dream girl seems too far the other direction.
I’ll come up with something. It’s my specialty—coming up with something on the fly.
Though I have to admit that just standing in close proximity to the woman has rendered me speechless twice now.
“Ready?” Cooper asks.
My brows dip. “For what?”
“Well, usually when a concert comes to an end, the audience, you know…leaves.”
I sigh. “Alexis told me we could catch up after the show.”
Gabby’s brows shoot up. “Seriously? Why didn’t you tell us before?”
“I was a little busy getting a beer and finding my seat,” I say dryly. The line for beer was ten people deep and I kept getting stopped in the lobby to sign autographs. It was a whole thing, and I nearly told people I was here with Cooper just to divert some of the attention away from me.
Luckily I made it to my seat just before Alexis took the stage, so I didn’t miss one hot second of her incredible performance.
I want to see her perform again.
In private. For me.
Or on a stage like this.
I think back to when Cooper asked me why she’d be my hall pass. I’d told him it was because she’s a triple threat, and I’d love for her to sing, act, and dance while she’s naked underneath me.
Okay, so it wasn’t the most gentlemanly thing to say, but we were on a bus heading toward spring training. I wasn’t exactly in the gentlemanly mood.
Now that I’ve actually come face to face with her, I still want those things. There’s no doubt about that.
But I want more than that, too.
And that’s the thing. I’ve never wanted more than that.
I want to get to know her. I want to know everything. What makes her laugh. What makes her angry. What makes her come. What it’s like to kiss her.
I sure as fuck never wanted to know that shit about leopard print fingernails a few days ago. Or any of the scores of women who came before her, if I’m being honest.
I want to know what this Brooks dickbag is to her. I want to know who the gentleman in the corner is. I want to know if she gets nervous when she takes the stage or if she’s ever forgotten her lyrics or if she likes singing the same songs night after night.
I want the mundane details and the big ones. Her past and her present. What she wants out of her future.
It’s a lot after meeting the woman twice.
Most of all, I want to know if there’s a chance she could be a recurring part of my future rather than a one-time dream.
“Well let’s get you backstage, then,” Gabby says, and she nods toward the security guard on the front left of the stage.
We head over toward him.
“Alexis invited me back after the show,” I say.
He gives me a look that clearly says yeah, right. “Yeah, me too, pal. Move along.”
“No, really,” I say.
“Credentials,” he demands.
“I don’t…She just told me we’d catch up after the show. She said she had to take pictures with some fans.”
“No credentials, no pass,” he says emphatically.
“Listen, man,” I begin.
“Look, do you have proof you’re allowed back here or not?”
I don’t have any proof, actually.
I don’t even have her number.
“No,” I mutter.
Cooper can ask James…but James just left the stage, and he’s already done me one solid tonight. I can’t ask for more.
Fuck.
I think about throwing out the do you know who I am card, but clearly he doesn’t or I wouldn’t be standing here in the first place.
I’ve got one more home game tomorrow, and then we head out of town. And I have no idea what her schedule is or how long she’ll be in town.
This was my one shot, and I blew it.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
I press my lips together and nod.
What’s meant to be will be. I repeat that line to myself.
It’s my mother’s wisdom that I’m calling to mind, something she said many times when she was going through a divorce when I was just a child—something she’s said to my sister now that she’s going through one, too.
And I suppose that’s a clear enough reminder. Whoever that dickbag is…he’s still something to her, and regardless of the fact that she invited me back after the show and I can’t get back there, he is back there.
And I’m not.