Page 36 of Red Hot Harmony

A card with our names was shown to the cluster of reporters huddled behind the rope. Random requests to face a particular angle poured from the photographers. And at the opposite end of the red carpet, two video cameras were erected. Guests were being interviewed.

I was acutely aware of all the eyes gawking at me from across the small, empty space—examining, judging, making assumptions. Bright flashes continued to snap in rapid succession. Several people pushed forward, but the security guards held the line.

My heart thundered in my chest, my stomach clenched.

Ally and I had been briefed about what to expect with the press taking an interest in our lives. We were both aware that things would be upside down for a little while, at least until the novelty of Dante Martinez dating a regular woman wore off.

And here I was with him, out in the open, letting the world see us, letting the world see his hand grasping mine, his body leaning in.

It was a terrifying feeling—standing in front of all these strangers, completely unprotected and undone.

And at their mercy.

“Thank you!” Eden told the crowd with a wave of her hand, then steered us along the length of the red carpet and toward the building.

One of the guys with a video camera caught Dante at the entrance, begging for a quick interview.

“Not today, Jimmy,” Eden snapped, ushering us into the lobby. The maddening roar of outside gave way to the subdued hum of the venue. “It’s too bad Ally couldn’t make it,” she bristled, but didn’t comment further.

Truth was, Ally had begged me to let her come, but she’d woken up with a sore throat and runny nose yesterday, and I wasn’t going to allow my kid to leave the house sick. Ever the lifesaver, Harper had volunteered to spend the night and entertain his favorite goddaughter with pizza and hot chocolate.

There had been a moment when I’d almost changed my mind and asked Dante for a rain check.

To that, Ally had verbally crucified me, “You know what, Mom? I already hate you for not letting me go, but ifyouflake out on him becauseI’m the onewith a cold, just so you can keep me company, I’ll hate you even more. Someone’s gotta represent if we’re doing this thing.”

No matter how much my kid disliked missing all the fun, she still rooted for me and him. It warmed my heart, considering we weren’t quite back on track just yet. Of course, there were some ulterior motives to her wanting my red-carpet photos circulating online. It would put me into the cool mom club. In truth, she wasn’t wishing me well for me, she was doing it for herself.

I understood it on a deeper level. Being just a girl who played guitar wasn’t enough in today’s world of social media, where the number of likes and followers ruled. Being a girl whose mother’s boyfriend was rich, famous, and scandalous gave her the edge.

Then I thought about my own mother. What would she say about this?

Dante and I weren’t necessarily a secret anymore, but she didn’t read the tabloids either. There was still the small matter of presenting her with the fact that I was seeing rock’n’roll's most notorious troublemaker.

The thought made me shudder.

Once we were in the lobby Dante’s grip on my palm loosened, but he didn’t let go entirely. Something told me that though he’d walked the red carpet many times before, he was just as nervous as I was. Perhaps it was the hard set of his jaw or the line between his furrowed brow that gave away his unease, but I still had a hard time believing he’d be intimidated by the reporters and other people.

He seemed so at ease while posing for cameras that it didn’t occur to me that perhaps he’d never done it sober.

“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Eden smiled, half turning to face us. Her sharp gaze landed on me as if seeking confirmation that I was still alive and well.

“No, it wasn’t,” I said.

We made our way past a throng of chatting people, past the scurrying event staff, past another line of security and into a small, intimately lit lounge.

Eden was still going over the itinerary she’d set up for Dante for tonight when we entered the room. “Don’t forget your interview is at seven. I’ll come and grab you for that.” She dropped the name of the publication next, which even I, for all my pop culture illiteracy, knew of. “And you need to say hi to Giorgio and his wife. They’ve been asking about you. Rich too.”

And so it went on and on and on.

The list was endless.

Dante looked positively exhausted by the time we reached the terrace area. The slack in his smile indicated that he hadn’t expected the evening to be so involved.

“I’ll let you two mingle for a bit,” Eden said finally, glancing at her phone. “I need to make some calls.”

“Is it always so intense?” I asked quietly as soon as she disappeared into the thick of the crowd.

Dante turned, aligning the length of his body to mine, his palms curling around my bare shoulders. “Yes. And in the past, I haven’t had any problem navigating this cesspool, but that was before drugs fried my brain.”

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