Page 34 of Saving Ian Pope

The performance had captivated Ivy, too, as she shimmied and swayed and nodded her head. She obviously felt the music deep in her soul, and I wanted that reaction from people so much for my own songs. The lyrics I’d written during this idyll in LA had become so much more to me than just words to accompany a melody. I wanted my lyrics to resonate with people, to take them somewhere else, to make them feel and relate and understand.

By the end of the ninety-minute set, I had a fully formed song in my head and couldn’t wait to get back to my laptop to get it down. As I stood up and stretched, the real world crashed in on me. I had a pap walk to do, first.

Ivy turned to me, her beautiful face alight with the magic of the night. “Did you like it?”

“Loved it.” I engulfed her in a hug, lifting her off her feet and kissing her fully on the mouth. As I led her down our row, I turned my head over my shoulder. “Aren’t you glad we have Nick and his embarrassingly huge limo waiting for us out front, now?”

“I absolutely am, especially in these heels.” She rubbed a circle on my back. “Thank you.”

I’d hold onto that sweet sentiment for now because she’d be cursing me later. On the way to the exit, I got a couple of nods and saw a few people nudge each other when they noticed me. A woman caught up to us and asked me if I’d enjoyed the concert and I replied that I had, very much, but she didn’t request my autograph and didn’t want a selfie, and I could see Ivy visible relax when the woman moved on and melted into the crowd.

All that changed as soon as we exited the venue.

Chapter 12

IAN

Accustomed to that familiar movement of photographers getting into position, I saw two men approach from the right and another hop off a wall and make a beeline for us.

I took Ivy’s hand, lacing my fingers through hers, as I laughed at something she’d said.

The photographers had gotten off several flashes before Ivy even noticed their presence. When the paps stepped in front of us, Ivy reared back, blinking her eyes.

When I felt her body stiffen, I tried to tuck her behind me, but there were too many people around. I murmured in her ear, “It’s alright. Just keep walking forward.”

The paps kept snapping, but by this time, Ivy had dipped her head, and her long, wavy hair created a curtain around her face.

One of the guys shouted out. “Hey, Ian, are you still sober?”

I flashed a peace sign, but this didn’t mollify the aggressive photographer, who’d stopped taking pictures. He continued yelling questions at me. “Are you making music, if that’s what you call it? Do you wish you had Sam’s career? How do you feel about your tanking popularity? Has Duke Hammer called to thank you for the publicity?”

I kept walking toward Nick, leaning against his limo. The wanker shouting the questions crowded in too close and bumped Ivy, who stumbled against me and gasped. My free hand curled into a fist at my side, and I elbowed him. “Watch out, mate.”

Nick lurched from the side of his limo and charged forward. “Hey, asshole, back the fuck off.” With the door already open, Nick herded us into the car and slammed the door. As he got in the front, he cranked his head over his shoulder. “Are you alright, Ivy?”

She managed a weak smile as she sagged against me in the backseat. “I’m fine.”

After that assurance, Nick closed the privacy glass between the front and back and started to weave his way out of the parking lot.

Ivy’s body trembled against mine, and I hugged her close as I rubbed her thigh. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. It’s alright. Did you get hurt?”

She swung her leg over mine, almost climbing into my lap, her head dropping to my shoulder. A sob wracked her body, and anger and guilt warred in my chest. “Are you alright, Ivy? I’m sorry that happened.”

Turning to look up at me, her green eyes swimming with tears, she smoothed her hand over my heart. “I’m fine. I’m not hurt physically, but I’m devastated over that idiot’s questions. Why are people so cruel? You don’t deserve that. You’re just a human being trying to enjoy a night out. You don’t owe anyone anything, especially someone like that with his hateful questions designed to goad you and strike at you. I’m so sorry, baby.”

Feeling about two feet tall, I swiped a tear from her cheek with the pad of my thumb. Those paps had just scared the life out of her, and she was sitting here worried about me and a couple of random questions—from a situation that I’d set up.

I let out a long breath. “I’m glad you’re okay. Don’t worry about that guy. You don’t think I’ve heard those questions before? I have, and worse. Doesn’t bother me at all.”

Her head shot up. “Just because you adhere to that damned pact, it doesn’t mean strangers have the right to attack you.”

Her eyes blazed and her cheeks flushed in her defense of me, and something swelled in my chest. Not even my PR team had ever stood up for me with so much passion.

I kissed her trembling lips. “I love...love that you’re so vehement on my behalf, but I was more upset that he was invading your space than at his pathetic, juvenile questions. Did it ruin the night for you?”

“Oh, no. The concert was great, and I loved sharing it with you. I could tell you were enjoying yourself and that meant a lot.” She shook her head. “I just don’t understand why those paparazzi would be stalking a Van concert at the Greek. You saw the crowd—not that interesting.”

I toyed with a lock of her hair. Should I tell her? I hated being deceptive, but even more I’d hate the look of contempt and pity in her eyes once I admitted my pathetic need for recognition. “I don’t know. It’s a concert venue in LA on a Saturday night. Maybe they just figured they’d get lucky.”

---