Page 9 of Reverb
“Yeah, I always do,” she said.
Which left her exposed to the cameras that appeared around her. He held back the sigh, though. Given all he knew about Twisted Wishes, suggesting Mish bypass the fans wouldn’t be taken well. So he crossed his arms and stayed close enough to intervene, but far enough away to scope out the crowd.
Mish chatted and laughed as she signed whatever the fans asked her to, except for the one guy who wanted his arm signed for a tattoo.
“I’m sorry.” She dropped her shoulders. “Weirds me out to have my signature on someone permanently, you know?”
Poor dude looked dejected. Had to be in his early twenties—still had a bit of baby face to him.
She bumped his arm with her fist. “Besides, it’s the whole band, you know? I’m just a part.”
“Yeah, but my favorite part.” He paused. “What if I got, like, a high heel and a bass guitar?”
Her cheeks ruddied. “As long as you’re sure that’s what you want. Give it a bit before you decide?”
“Yeah...okay.” Puppy-dog eyes. David bit his tongue to keep from laughing.
Couple of people wanted selfies, and Mish obliged. A few more signatures and the fans were all taken care of. But the paparazzi had moved in with their calls of “Mish, Mish, sweetheart!”
Mish rolled her eyes and joined David. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“That your boyfriend, Mish?” one called out, a smarmy edge to his voice.
“My bodyguard,” she called back. “So fuck off.” She marched away on those glorious legs of hers, heading toward the nearest subway station.
Well, guess that was out in the open. David caught up, lengthening his own strides to match hers. “I suppose that makes us official.”
She glanced his way. “Guess so.”
They took the stairs down into the station, swiped their Metro cards and headed to a platform that would take them uptown. Only then did she speak again. “Honestly, I trust Ray. And if Adrian is freaked out, too...” She sighed and pulled her curls off her neck. “Fucking hate when the stations are this humid.”
“Summer in the city,” he said. “And feel free to use me as interference. That’s why I’m here.”
Her grin was wicked. “So, you’ll save those fuckers from getting their noses punched if they get too close?”
He shrugged and smiled back.
“You’re not a man of many words, are you?”
Now, that was an interesting assessment. “I can be, but I usually let the clients set the tone.”
He scanned the platform, but everyone was doing that New York thing where you ignored the rest of the world. Except for that one guy by the stairs.
“Also, if I get too chatty, I might miss something.” Like that photog trying to get closer. “We’ve got a straggler from the paps.”
Mish closed her eyes briefly. “Every time. Thin bald guy with a DSLR that you could probably kill someone with?”
David met Mish’s gaze. Oh yes, she could take care of herself. Aware. Probably had contingency plans. He’d done similar years ago. Keys through the fingers and everything. “Yup.”
“He’ll get on the train with me—us—and follow me home. Harmless but fucking annoying.”
So she’d assessed the threat. A tiny piece of him wanted to scream that the world was unfair to do this to her, but he knew that viscerally. Nothing ever changed.
When the train came, it was as Mish said. Overcompensating DSLR Dude got on with them, found his way to their car, and stayed on.
It was too crowded with the end of the business day to sit, so they stood until Mish tapped David on the shoulder. “My stop.”
He’d known that, but kept it to himself. All of the addresses of the band members were public record. Made him itch, but people—even stars—couldn’t live in bubbles. And New Yorkers were generally good about leaving them the fuck alone.
