Page 13 of Declan

Of course, I’m well aware that I’m feeding into some romanticized idea that our fan bases both have because it’s a well-known fact that not everyone is too happy about blowhard Bobby. Even if I am an egotistical jackass, I’m lightyears ahead of Bobby in terms of charisma, charm, and overall appeal.

I turn back to the band and say, “You all ready to take this up a notch?”

Now, I know completely changing the tone of her song is gonna piss her off, too, but for some reason, I fucking love it. She’s already glaring daggers at me with that sassy smile on her lips, and I step in close, whispering into her ear, “Are you ready to take it up a notch, doll face?”

I don’t miss the little shiver that runs down her body, and I move in even closer so my front is pressed into her side, my breath painting the shell of her ear as I chuckle a bit breathlessly. “You like that. Duly noted.”

She throws me an elbow, and I step back as she focuses on the crowd, shouting, “How about you all? You wanna take this up a fucking notch?”

The crowd loses their fucking mind, and I’m impressed that America’s Princess has a fan base that wants to rock out.

I look at the front row and find Antoinette and Carolina also losing their minds, and my smile broadens even more. Everyone here knows this song, and while the first song I chose to sing with her on Kylie’s show was a love ballad, this one is a sassy slap back of a woman reprimanding a man for thinking he’s allowed to take liberties without asking first.

I’m sure she’s confused as to why I would choose this song in particular, but all of her confusion will be remedied once I sing the lines I rewrote to suit myself and my very public agenda.

And she’s going to be even more pissed.

She gives me a suspicious look, then turns back to the mic, looking over at the crowd as the music hits a crescendo, and then stops abruptly, her voice sounding out over the arena like a fucking siren’s call.

Who do you think you are?

Putting your hands up on me like I’m nothing more than a circus attraction

She wails the words into the mic, her normal playful, sassy tone morphing into outraged fury as the music crashes back in, and she continues.

A plaything to dally with

A fucking life-size blowup doll with no rights to be heard

You didn’t ask for permission

You didn’t think it was a big deal, and now you’re pissed your plan backfired

Screw your ‘sorry’, screw your ‘my mistake’

She’s changing the words now, unleashing her true feelings on the crowd about something that obviously had a huge effect on her, and they’re eating it up, going completely insane for this new side of a woman they already obsess over. And then she drops it low, a raspy whisper as the band and crowd simultaneously go quiet.

Screw your ‘my bad’ and a giant fuck you

For making me take your blame

She waves two middle fingers as she finishes. Silence echoes for one beat, two, and then the band kicks back in, reverberating around us. She’s standing there, chest heaving, staring me down with a challenge in her eyes, waiting to see what I’m gonna do. I move close, looking her right in the eyes as I ask, “May I?”

She closes the mere inches left between us, her breath on my ear as she replies, “By all means. Show me what you got, big boy.”

I’m sure she knows what’s coming. She knows me well enough to know I wouldn’t come in here unprepared to make some kind of fucking statement, and I’m sure her curiosity is getting the better of her as she eggs me on.

I turn back to her band, and they’re all grinning, well-prepared for what comes next. I turn my body so I can sing into the mic while watching her, and her haughty expression quickly turns into one of wariness as the music stops abruptly, and my voice sounds out over the arena like a man possessed.

Who do you fuckers think you are?

Putting your hands where they don’t belong

I growl the words, nothing even remotely playful about my tone and cadence.

She’s no plaything to dally with

Far more than a life-sized blowup doll with no rights to be heard

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