Page 25 of Out of the Blue

While I’m clicking away, Raine comes over to me. “Impressed with how you took care of all the nasty business with Joey and Cheri.”

Lowering my camera, I reply, “Thanks. They thought it was best to come as clean as possible about the whole incident, and Mr. Hewitt agreed.”

“And putting links to heroin addiction donation sites was a great touch.”

That was my idea. I tuck my hair behind my ear. “But we never got an apology from the magazine that started it all.”

He shrugs. “They won’t. Tabloids like them never do. But TLR’s fans ate it up. And Keith loved it too. Garnered more fans, to boot. Nice job.”

I puff up. His mentioning Hunte’s tour manager is a coup. Yeah, I’m pretty good at this marketing stuff. Maybe my loan request will be approved, especially since both my band’s manager and his boss liked it? “Thank you.”

Raine straightens, then mumbles, “What’s the deal with those fans?” He scurries away before I can even respond.

From my vantage point, I take a few shots of Raine handling the overzealous fans who seem to want to grab the shirts off the guys’ backs. Literally. Can’t say I blame them, as each one of them is mighty hot.

Redirecting my thoughts, I check out the social media comments. While not huge in number, they’re pretty enthusiastic. Hope they continue to grow and outpace California Skies, the rival band who opened for Hunte on the West Coast. I bite my lip, pondering ways to grow their fan base while the meet-and-greet finishes up.

We return to the green room, where I review the new photos. Some good shots, but nothing I feel like posting right now. I’m setting my new camera by my jacket when Trent approaches.

“Hey.”

I straighten up. “Hi.”

He licks his lips. “Listen, I wanted to add my voice to say thank you for countering the article about Joey. I think things will be dying down on that front soon.”

“I hope so.”

A pain at the back of my throat pokes at me. Guilt over how I fled from him. It’s unsettling. The need to make it up to him—in some small way—prods me to click the band’s Facebook profile. I locate the photo of him and his guitar posted an hour ago. Passing my cell to him, I ask, “Like it?”

I forget to breathe while his gaze bounces from the photo to the caption to the fans’ responses. He scrolls past responses like “hot,” “super-talented,” and even, “I’d let him play me!”

“Interesting photo choice.” He conveys the phone back to me. “I like it. The comments, well—”

Ignoring the latter part, my body collapses in on itself, relieved he approved of the picture. “You’re a hard get.”

He half-smirks. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

Because I want more absolution from this talented man,notbecause he’s a sexy beast, I show him the photo I didn’t post. The one from right before he took the stage.

“This photo spoke more to me, but I felt it was too…” I pause. “Intimate.” His mouth falls open as he peers at the screen in my hand, then he bites his bottom lip. Clouds cover his amber eyes.

Remembering how Cheri wanted to frame the photo of Joey holding his phone, I breach the silence. “Let me know if you want me to email it to you.”

His eyes don’t stray from the camera.

What’s up with his reaction? Guess my skills aren’t so mad after all. “You don’t have to,” I add.

His mouth closes for a moment. “Thanks for not posting it. This one’s sort of, personal.” He stumbles back.

Chapter 9 - Trent

From the other side of the room, Dwight calls, “Hey, Trent. Leaving in ten.”

Pulling out of my stupor, I give him a thumbs-up, then shift my attention back to the woman who broke down in front of me. And gave me a killer blow job. Then ditched me. Was that only a day ago? With the story about Joey and Cheri hitting the airwaves, it feels like much longer. Cordelia came through for us, though, developing a press response that shut down the tabloid like a dog. She’s really talented outside the bedroom.

Inside it, too.

Not like we’ve ever done it in a bedroom.

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