Page 5 of The Ballad of Us
“It’s that good.”
When we approach the doors, he opens them for me, allowing me to pass through before him. The hostess station is empty, so we wait a moment for one to return. A young brunette shows first, guiding us to a table for two. Neither of us says anything on our way to a booth. Halfway there, another couple heads toward the exit from the opposite direction, looking sated and gluttonous. I stifle a smile to keep from pointing out the obvious to Gray. We’re both likely to be hurting when we leave here, too.
Gray moves in behind me to allow the couple to pass, but he’s next to me again as soon as they do. This time, though, he places his hand on my lower back. The contact instantly warms me, spreading through me like liquid fire. It reaches my middle, causing me to clench in response.
It’s the rock star gig, I tell myself. It has that effect on many men and women. I thought I was immune to it, but I guess Gray Garrison is different from any of the many musicians I’ve met in this town. Maybe by the end of our dinner, I’ll be able to put my finger on what makes him so unique.
When we reach the table, he waves toward the side of the booth facing away from the exit. “Is this side okay?”
“Perfect.” Sliding into the booth, I remove my purse and place it next to me.
Gray joins me on the other side of the table, smiles kindly at the hostess, and picks up his menu. “Thanks,” he tells her.
“Oh my God!” the young hostess shrieks, batting her lashes in disbelief. “You’re?— ”
“Don’t do that.” My voice is stern, carrying a warning.
Her eyes flicker to me as her pretty face turns up in anger. “What? Do you know who he is?”
Taking a deep breath, I do my best to straddle the line between telling her to shut the fuck up and go away or being more gracious toward her. “Yes, I know who he is - he’s a person. One who’d like to eat his dinner in peace for once without a hostess announcing to the entire restaurant that he’s in the house. He’d also like not to have to forgo this meal in lieu of another establishment that can offer him the luxury of dining in private.” I’m sassier than I mean to be, but she’s young. She needs to learn to respect people’s right to privacy. A ton of musicians live in this town, so this isn’t going to be her last time finding a celebrity out in the wild.
The hostess’s face twists tighter with anger, but before she can retort, a stocky man in a white shirt and red tie, wearing a name badge, intervenes. “Amber, you’re needed at the hostess station.” There’s no room for argument in his tone.
Amber blinks again, this time at the man next to her. It takes her a moment to process what’s happening before she turns on her heel, swings her long ponytail around, and marches off.
The stocky man in the white shirt turns his attention to us. “Please accept my sincerest apologies for that. No one else will bother y’all while you eat. You have my word. I’m a manager here at Ms. Nancy’s and will take care of you personally.”
“Thank you,” Gray says quietly, and it’s the first time he’s spoken since I took over the situation.
My gaze lands on him, sitting across the table from me and smirking at me like I just gave him the best news of his life.
“Can I get you lovely folks started off with drinks or appetizers?” the manager asks.
We order our respective drinks, both sticking to water with a slice of lemon.
Once the manager leaves to fetch our beverages, Gray’s gaze settles on me. Curiosity and amusement dance in his eyes. “Thank you for averting a crisis with the hostess.”
Suddenly, I’m somewhat embarrassed that I was so stern with the young girl. “It must be tough to be out in the wild.”
“Yes, at times, it is. I’m happy to give an autograph to most people, but when an entire restaurant converges on you at once, it can be overwhelming. It makes it difficult to be able to go out spontaneously.”
We fall into easy conversation after that, only interrupted by the manager returning with our drinks and taking our food order. Gray has a hard time deciding what he wants from their extensive menu, so he settles on a sampler that includes a little of everything.
“Tell me about yourself,” he says once we’re alone again.
It’s such a broad request that it sends me into a minor panic for a few seconds. I never know where to start or even know what I’m comfortable sharing with most people. “What would you like to know?”
Gray considers me for a moment. “Why don’t we play a little game?”
“What type of game?” The apprehension in my voice is obvious.
“You can ask me a question, anything that comes to your mind, and I have to answer honestly. But I get to ask a question next, and you have to also answer truthfully.” He doesn’t seem like the type of man who’d play mind games to get me into bed, but I just never know with most people.
I saw a lot at a young age with my mom being an addict, and I tend to err on the side of caution where people are concerned. I’ve seen the worst of the worst. “What’s it like to be famous?” I start off with something easy, a topic he can shed light on without digging too deep at first.
“It’s a mixed bag,” he answers, thoughtfully looking off into the distance. “I dig the music side, like when fans sing along with our songs, or someone tells me a song saved their life. That shit is monumental and touching. But the flip side of the coin is that I have no privacy or the level of control over my own career that I’d like.”
“My turn, yeah?” he asks, and I nod, hoping he’ll start with a gentle approach. “What’s your apprehension about going on tour?”
