Page 82 of Down Beat

My recall of useless knowledge comes in handy when I spot him the next block over, stooped over to talk to a fan who’s spotted him out alone. The girl bounces on the balls of her feet before she tucks herself into his side so she can take a selfie.

Rey’s grin is wide, almost as large as the surge of jealousy that fires through me when the girl places a bold kiss on his cheek.

I bury my fists in my coat pockets and power on, catching up as she heads down the side street, suitably pleased with herself. “What are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same.” His fake smile is gone, the pissed off wanker I got back at the apartment firmly in situ.

“Why did you walk out on me?”

He stares straight ahead as he strides. “It was either punch a hole in your wall, or head out for smokes. And given you’re broke as fuck, I figured you wouldn’t want to spring for drywall repairs.”

“Um, excuse me.” I cock an eyebrow as we hustle along the sidewalk. “If you punched the hole, you’d fix it.”

The whisper of a smile tugs at his lips. He glances at me from the corner of his eye, and then promptly steers us into the convenience store.

“Ladies first.” He pulls the door open, shoulders hunched as he waits for me to go inside.

“Why, thank you.” The surge of heat from the overhead blower smacks me in the face.

It’s heaven.

Rey wanders into the store, seemingly in his own little world as he heads for the drinks fridge. Me, on the other hand…. I’m stationed at the door like the fucking Secret Service, doing a sweep of the place to see if there are any other people who might recognize and accost him.

How the hell does he do this day to day? How does it not get old being unable to step out your front door without wondering if somebody will know who you are? Wondering if somebody will be there to photograph you, or upload you to social media via live stream?

Fuck fame. Being a nobody has its perks.

“You want anything?”

I snap my attention back to the man of the moment as he lifts an energy drink from the fridge. How on earth is he not freezing his ass off in only holey jeans and a T-shirt?

“No. I’m fine.”

The guy behind the counter watches our interaction with dead eyes. I shake off the creepy vibe it gives me and hustle to Rey’s side.

“When did you last have a cigarette?” Probably half the reason why he’s so testy.

He scratches his chin with the fingers of the hand holding his bottle, seeming to think the question over. “Before the flight. So, five-ish, I think?”

“How early were you up this morning?” Is this going to be a regular part of touring too? Predawn arguments between the band?

“I never went to bed.” He throws me a wink before asking the guy behind the counter for a pack of cigarettes.

I stand aside while he completes the transaction, strangely turned on by the sight of him as he then rips the pack open and uses his bottom lip to pull one out. He has that effortless James Dean look about him as he tucks the rest in his pocket and juggles the lighter with his drink.

“Here.” I take the bottle from him and hold the door open.

He passes through to the street and immediately sparks the stick. The look on his face can only be described as orgasmic.

“Better?”

Rey’s eyes close as he lets out a long sigh. “Fuck, yes.” He flicks his gaze to me, lifting the cigarette between us. “Is this going to be a problem?”

I shrug. “Can’t say I like it, but it’s not a deal breaker.”

He chuckles. “You know, you should have said it would be.”

“Why?” I uncap his drink and pass it back to him.

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