Some crazy incidents had gone down since I became famous, but never had I felt so fucking...I guess violated was the word for it. I mean, fans wanted a piece of me. They wanted to know every detail of my life. I got dick pics and tits flashed at me, my arms and hands grabbed, but I’d never felt unsafe.
That chick, though…she looked like she’d tie me to a bedMiserystyle and never let me go. Being tied to a bed I was down with, but not by crazy-eyed looney tunes.
After a minute, Mac reappeared. “The woman is with hotel security. They wanted to know if you’d like to press charges.”
“Press charges? What the fuck?” I took off my cap and shoved my hand through my hair. “No, I just want to have a drink and forget that shit ever happened.”
He cleared his throat. “I overheard you saying you want to wander, and I have to tell you, I agree with your friends. I do not feel comfortable with you drinking in this hotel.”
I threw my hands up, frustrated with this entire night. “You expect me to go sit in my room all night? I might as well fly home and sit in my own damn house if I’m going to be alone.”
“No, sir. I know a place off the strip. It’s safe, mostly a local crowd. It would be ideal for drinking anonymously.”
I looked Mac over. He was an ex-Navy SEAL or some shit. I liked him because he blended. He could be someone’s dad or the mailman. I had a couple security guards who were brick houses, and while they got the job done, it was impossible to go anywhere with them and not get noticed. I didn’t have that problem with Mac.
I’d wanted to wander, maybe run into a few fans, but after crazy-eyes, being anonymous sounded real good.
“All right. Let’s go to your bar.”
Mac’s bar was old-school Vegas. Dark, with tufted, red leather booths and a wooden bar covered with Sharpie signatures and carved initials.
I grabbed a table near the back, and Mac found a seat a couple booths away. He took his job too seriously to join me, even though I’d rather be talking to him than sitting by myself.
With my drink in hand, I took out my phone to text my sister.
Show’s over. Got my dick manhandled. What’s up with you?
Yael:Oh, gross. TMI. Saw the show. You looked good, kid.
Me:The dick grab was nonconsensual unfortunately. This crazy chick got into thedressing room, told me she felt some kind of connection, then proceeded to cup my balls. This was after she’d taken liberties on stage. You might want to rewatch the first song. There were two grabs by one of the dancers.
It took her a minute to reply. I sipped my drink, glancing around at the other patrons. There were a couple grizzled bikers holding court at one end of the bar. A woman alone toward the center, chatting with the bartender, and a few of the tables were occupied with couples and groups. Everyone looked to be in their thirties, minimum. No one seemed interested in me. Hell, I might as well have been drinking alone in my hotel room.
Yael:I just watched it back, and WTF?!? She was slick, but I saw it. I cannot believe that happened. You okay?
Me:Yeah. Kind of weirdly shaken up.
Yael:It’s not weird to be shaken up.
Me:Ah, I don’t know. I’m gonna try to forget it happened.
Yael:Where are you?
Me:Mac took me to some local dive. Think I’ll head out, make it an early night.
Yael:That’s probably for the best. You have an interview with Rock Fusion Magazine when you fly in tomorrow. They’re doing pictures, so don’t roll up with dark circles looking like a rock star cliché.
Me:I’ll try not to.
My little sister was my assistant and an ass-kicker. While I was serious about music, everything else was superfluous as far as I was concerned. Lucky for me, I had Yael, who kept me in line, got me where I needed to be, and generally ran my life.
The woman at the bar got up from her stool, catching my attention. I could only see her back from where I was sitting, but it was a mighty fine view. Small, with the kind of hips and ass meant for grabbing. She had me sitting up straight, watching her lithe movements. She stopped at the jukebox—who the fuck had a jukebox anymore?—and flipped through the music selections.
Lifting my drink to my lips, I took a long swallow. When the woman turned around and I got a good look at her face, I nearly choked on my whiskey.
I knew her.
A smile tugged at my lips. Maybe tonight was going to be fun after all.