Page 43 of Dear Rockstar (Dear Rockstar 1)

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Hey.” The bassist tapped Dale on the shoulder, shaking his close-cropped, spiky blonde head, pointing to another band waiting at the edge of the stage for Black Diamond to finish.

Dale remembered himself and where we were, grabbing the mic off the stand where he’d left it, and telling the crowd, “Thank you! Black Diamond will be performing in the MTV Battle of the Bands! Please come out to cheer us on!”

The crowd went crazy, but I was already there as Dale swept me off the stage, grabbing his guitar leaning against one of the amps as we hurried down the steps. I wasn’t prepared for girls asking for autographs, offering up bellies or hips or cleavage in lieu of paper. Dale refused to sign any skin, much to the chagrin of the mostly adolescent crowd, but he did use a black sharpie on a t-shirt or two. There were Black Diamond t-shirts for sale at a table being manned by a bespectacled middle-aged man with shoulder length hair wearing one of the band’s t-shirts.

I searched the crowd for Aimee, but Dale wouldn’t let me go, holding my right hand so tightly in his left it started to ache. Finally, the crowd began thinning, drawn to the next band appearing onstage. They were far more bubblegum pop. Rick Astley with less soul, if that was possible. Any act following Dale and the Black Diamonds would have paled in comparison, but this was like attending a church bake sale after a trip to Disney World. I was just about to insist on going to look for Aimee when she found us. She had also apparently found Matt. Or he had found her. He was shielding her with his body as they made their way through the crowd toward us.

“Oh my God, Dale, you are amazing!” Aimee exclaimed, looking just as shiny-eyed as all of the other girls in the crowd. Matt stuck a hand out and Dale shook it. I wasn’t about to start asking why Dale hadn’t invited us to the mall performance in the first place, not here, not now.

“Great show.” Matt gave Dale a brief nod. “I’m Matt Green.”

“Thanks,” Dale replied. “So you’re the guy bringing Aimee to the Tyler Vincent concert with us?”

“That would be me.” Matt agreed, putting an arm around Aimee’s shoulders. Behind us, the rest of the Black Diamonds were packing up their gear and for some reason, giving me what I couldn’t interpret any other way as “dirty looks.” I couldn’t fathom why, considering I had yet to meet even one of them.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Sara.” I smiled at Matt—he was cute, tall and clean-cut, wearing chinos and a navy blue Izod polo, the collar turned fashionably up. Aimee looked so pleased with herself she was practically buzzing.

“I can give you your tickets.” Dale led me by the hand—he still hadn’t let go—and Aimee and Matt followed over to the t-shirt table where one lone shirt remained. It had a little hole along the underarm seam, which was clearly why it had been left. Plus, it looked pretty small.

“Hey, Dad, you got those tickets for me?” Dale held his hand out and the bespectacled, long-haired man looked up from putting money in the change box long enough to dig out his wallet.

“Your dad?” I prompted, blinking up at Dale.

“Oh, yeah. This is my dad.” Dale made the introductions as he handed two of the tickets over to Aimee, giving the other two to me. “Dad, this is Sara. And her friend, Aimee, and Aimee’s boyfriend, Matt.”

Aimee blushed at the word “boyfriend,” but I noticed Matt didn’t balk at the term.

Dale’s dad had kind eyes and an even kinder smile. “Nice to meet you. You can call me John.”

I looked at the tickets before putting them in my purse. They were front row, center, just as Dale had promised. I tucked them safely away, still stunned.

“We’re going to get something to eat and then head to the movies,” Dale told him. “Can you take my gear home?”

“Sure. No more boxes of shirts to load in the car!” John opened his arms as if to show us the nearly empty table.

Dale’s eyebrows went up. “We sold out?”

“That one’s ripped.” Aimee noticed it too.

I picked the white t-shirt up off the table, inspecting the tear. It was very small, more like a child’s size. “Can I have it?”

John waved it away. “Sure.”

“It’ll be worth a million dollars some day,” Matt joked.

I winked at Dale. “I can say I knew you when.”

He leaned over, nuzzling my ear, a warm puff of his breath sending goose bumps down my arm as he whispered, “You won’t need to.”

I thought my legs might give out right there, in front of everyone.

“So you’re all right?” Dale asked his father. “The guys will help you load up.”

“Sure. You two go have fun.” John smiled at me again, that same kind smile that reached his eyes, the sort you knew was genuine. “Nice to meet you, Sara.”

“You too, Mr… uh… John.”

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