Page 84 of Dear Rockstar (Dear Rockstar 1)

His voice inside yellin’ out my crimes

Ain’t comin’ to the door no more I’ll be waitin’ in my car

Are you daddy’s girl or are you gonna be mine?

Lemme know now girl cuz I just ain’t got the time…”

The screams were deafening. Bodies pressed all around us, and I had to hold onto Dale to keep from losing him. Aimee, next to me, screamed along with the rest of us girls in the first few rows who had squeezed up here.

“Are you daddy’s girl or you gonna be mine...?” Tyler Vincent sang right above us now. When I reached out and touched his boot, he winked at me. I thought I was going to keel over right there. Aimee grabbed my arm and squealed her approval. Matt, behind her, had his arms about her waist.

“Are you having a good time?” Dale practically had to yell to be heard.

I didn’t do anything but beam back at him, no words for how grateful I was to have the experience of a Tyler Vincent concert, front row center. I looked at him, curious about the expression on his face. This was what he wanted to be—this was what he wanted to do. This was what he was clearly born to do. I could see it in the longing in his eyes.

Tyler Vincent was talking to the audience now, and things had quieted down so we could hear him.

“This is a little song I wrote about what it’s like to be a rock star.” He took a long swig of water. “Sometimes it’s like Living Out Loud and you guys make it all worth it, I got to tell ya.” The roar of the crowd really was deafening then. “There are good things about being me.”

“I want to have your baby!” a girl from behind us screamed clearly.

“Like that.” Tyler laughed and the band started to play behind him.

There was more laughter, more screaming.

“But sometimes…well, be careful what you wish for…”

I could have sworn he was looking right at Dale.

“Last time we met you said be careful what I ask for

Before you left you whispered that the door’s always open

Barely heard you with my handlers shovin’ groupies out the back door

If I’d known what I was tradin’ for the life of a rock star

Wanted more than these work jeans ripped and faded

Wanted more than four am gigs and six am time clocks

Now my guitar’s shiny new but I’m old and jaded

And I can’t get enough of what I never really wanted…”

I watched Dale, thinking. About being a star. About being a fan. About what each of those meant. His look was far away. I tried to imagine it—him being up there on stage, with girls screaming they wanted to have his children—girls he didn’t even know.

“I got what I wanted

Now that I’m livin’ out loud

I can’t hear the music

Above the noise of the crowd…”

I leaned my forehead against Dale’s shoulder. What would it be like, being the girlfriend of a rock star? Having him gone all of the time, or traveling with him, dealing with the jet lag, the alcohol, the drugs? The extreme highs, the extreme lows… Could I handle that? Could I handle girls like me and Aimee screaming at Dale and pasting posters of him on their walls?

Of course, maybe I’d never have to worry—not too many people made it big. But Dale was different. He had the talent… and the determination. All he needed was one little break and he just might be a rock star. With thousands of adoring fans. Fans like me. Fans who just wanted to “be his friend…” but who really wanted to be a part of his life.

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