Neon Dreams: Loving Dallas Part 12

"Because you're young and smart and driven. Because you were the only one at Midnight Bay to mention social media integration in your presentation. Those were the words I was waiting to hear. You said them. So I thought you'd be the right person for the job. You also happen to be beautiful and I wouldn't kick you out of bed if you were interested, but that had absolutely nothing to do with my requesting you for this tour. Scout's honor."

"So the comment earlier about what you'd prefer?"

"If my teasing you made you uncomfortable, I apologize. It's a habit I just sort of fall into when I don't know what else to say. I'll make an effort to cut that out where you're concerned. It's unprofessional and uncalled for."

"Well . . . thank you. I'd appreciate that."

I feel two inches tall and if I had one wish right now, it would be for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

"So . . . we good?" He nods toward his bus. " 'Cause I got-"

"Go. Sorry. In the future I'll ask any questions I have without taking your head off first."

Jase laughs good-naturedly. "It's fine. You're a woman in a mostly male-dominated business. I can imagine the s.h.i.+t you have to put up with. My hat's off to you." With that, he tips his hat. "And for the record, my groupies are pretty shameless. G.o.d bless 'em." He turns and gets onto his tour bus, leaving me shaking my head and contemplating the many ways in which I could murder Dallas Lark.

19 Dallas.

THE KNOCK ON THE THIN DOOR TO MY ROOM ON THE BUS IS SHARP and angry sounding. So naturally I a.s.sume it's Mandy here to make some lewd suggestion about how I owe her my d.i.c.k or something.

I sigh and open it, pleasantly surprised to find Robyn on the other side instead. My guitarist, Tyler, is standing behind her looking concerned for my well-being. I give him an I've-got-this nod and move aside for Robyn to come in. She blows past me without a word.

"You okay?"

"No. I'm not." She shakes her head and looks off into the distance, paying more attention to the modest furnis.h.i.+ngs in the room than to me. "I confronted him. Because of what you said. And guess what?"

Now her eyes do meet mine and I'm nervous about what I see in them. Matching glinting emeralds of hatred is what they most resemble at the moment.

"I can't even begin to guess."

"No?" Her voice rises an octave or two. "You can't? That's funny considering a few hours ago you were an expert on the subject."

"Clearly you're upset with me." I state the obvious because I know her well enough to know that when she's in this mood everything I say will be fuel to her fire.

"You think?" She purses her s.e.xy little mouth and shakes her head at me. "I was ranting on and on about being a professional and the whole time I was acting like some stupid teenager freaking out over gossip. Because guess what, Dallas? Whoever your source is got it wrong. Jase Wade didn't request me on this tour because he wanted to get into my panties. He requested me because of the social media pitch I gave in my presentation."

"Okay. Well, then I'm glad I was wrong."

"You're glad you were wrong? Since when? Since when are you ever wrong, Dallas? You just decide how things are and that's how it is, right?" She runs her hands through her tangled hair, then gapes at me. "Dead G.o.d. I said he thought he was King Pimp of the universe."

I fold my lips inward to keep from laughing. Laughing would be so bad right now.

"Do not dare laugh at me, Dallas. I cannot believe you said that stuff to me. But you know what's worse? I believed it. And do you know why?"

Do not speak.

In lieu of a verbal answer I shake my head.

"I believed it because that's how you make me feel. Like all I'm good for is getting you off when you need it. Right? Bang out a few o.r.g.a.s.ms and hey, maybe a song, too, for good measure. Good old Robyn. She'll just take what she can get. That's all you want me for, so of course, that must be all any other guy can see as well." She takes these gaspy little breaths that make me hate myself.

The urge to laugh has pa.s.sed.

"Baby, I-"

She slaps my hand away when I reach for her. "No. No, we're done with that. Do not touch me. You could've cost me my job tonight, riling me up with your jealous macho c.r.a.p. And I am so done."

"Robyn," I call out, pulling at her waist before she twists out of my arms. "Listen to me. That's not how it was."

"How was it then? Tell me. Because I feel cheap, and used, and played. And I do not deserve that."

"You're right." I nod like a f.u.c.king bobblehead. "You don't. I swear to G.o.d, making you feel that way was not my intention." I sit on my bed and look up at her. Her pain is mine now, and it's weighing heavy on my chest. I hurt her, deeply, and I'd kick my own a.s.s if I knew how.

"Then why, Dallas? Why say those awful things to me? Because it sure seemed like you meant them."

I clear my throat and give her the most honest answer that I can.

"Because I got caught up. I was worried that he wanted you here so he could use his authority over you and pull with your company to take advantage. I should've just confronted him myself instead of telling you. But we used to tell each other everything and old habits are hard to break."

"Well, get un-caught-up. Just stay out of it from now on, okay?" She takes a shaky breath that throws me off balance. "Just stay out of my personal and professional business and worry about you."

"Ask me anything, Robyn. Ask me to back off, to keep my hands to myself, to stop wanting to pummel every guy who looks at you sideways. I can't make any promises, but I can try. But please, babe, don't ask me not to care. Because I can't not care about you. I've tried. I failed. I will always care. And anytime I see someone who I think might try to hurt you in any way, I probably won't be able to stop myself from stepping in even if you don't want me there."

For a split second I see something in her eyes that makes me think she's going to say she understands. That's she'll try to be patient with me because I'm a jacka.s.s and she knows I can't help it.

But then her expression hardens and her shoulders stiffen and she shakes her head.

"When you get up on that stage, Dallas, I am so proud of you. I remember watching you play at dive bars and catfish weigh-ins and wherever else they would let you. I knew from the first time I saw you play that you were something special. I couldn't wait for the rest of the world to see it. And now that they do, I am so honored to get to be a part of that. But I need you to at least respect my job even if you don't think it's as important as yours. I may not get up on a stage night after night, but I work really hard, too. And it would've been really nice if you could've been proud of me back."

"Robyn-"

"Don't. I acted like a psycho in front of a client tonight because I let you get in my head. That's not okay, Dallas. Just leave me be. You focus on your career and I'll focus on mine. Got it?"

She doesn't even wait for my answer.

After she walks out, I toss a chair against the wall and watch it splinter into pieces. For the rest of the night I feel even more alone than I did before she came by to yell at me.

She's right. We can't do this second-chance romance s.h.i.+t right now. We both have careers to focus on and neither of us can afford to get caught up in something that could cost us everything we've worked for.

Just because I know she's right doesn't mean I have to like it.

My phone rings sometime around sunrise. The bus isn't moving so I a.s.sume we made it to North Carolina. Glancing over on the nightstand that's strapped to the wall, I find my phone and see my sister's face on the screen.

Sitting up, I slide the bar to accept her call. "Hey, Dixie. Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?" I can hear the challenge in her voice. She's p.i.s.sed and she has every right to be. I'm two-for-two then where women are concerned.

"Oh . . . I don't know. Did you know Robyn was going to be on this tour with me?"

My sister sighs loudly, which means yes, she did.

"Sorry, big brother. It didn't exactly come up and I wasn't sure how you'd respond if I dropped it on you at the last minute. Seemed like it might be best to just let you find out on your own. Kind of like how you knew Gavin was in town and not on the unsigned artists tour with you and you kept it to yourself, I suppose."

She's got me there. And now I know why she sounds p.i.s.sed. "I'm sorry. It just wasn't my truth to tell, you know?"

"I do know. And ditto, I guess."

I run a hand through my hair and lean back on my headboard. "Can you tell me something else, though? Something important? Even if you think it will hurt my feelings."

"I can try."

"Am I an a.s.shole? Be straight with me, Dix."

"Dallas," she scoffs at me. "What kind of question is that?"

"If a guy's sister can't call him out for being an a.s.shole, who can?"

"I don't think you are-not really anyway. You might impersonate one from time to time, but I think we both know there's more going on beneath the surface. But it doesn't really matter what I think. Why do you ask?"

"Do you think I've been terrible to Robyn?"

Again my sister sighs. I contemplate sending her an inhaler.

"I think you could be more up front about your feelings for her sometimes instead of pus.h.i.+ng her away. I think whatever happened between the two of you was complicated and that it left a mark on you. You tend to go overboard sometimes trying to keep people from getting too close. That can be hurtful, you know?"

"I see. So what do you think I should do about it? Send her some flowers with a card that says, 'Sorry for being such a d.i.c.k'?"

My sister laughs at me as if I'm kidding. I am not kidding.

"I think you should apologize in a more meaningful way. One that says more than just sorry but lets her know that you're going to try and do better in the future."

"Right. I'll see if I can get that iced on a cake."

"You sound tired still. Get some sleep, Dallas." With that my sister pretty much hangs up on me.

I should sleep some more. The show will run late tonight. But there's a song in my head, one Robyn inspired, so mostly I write. When I come to a lyric I can't make fit, I pick up my guitar and try to play through it.

"Patience isn't enough," Papa used to say when I'd get tired of a song I couldn't master. He'd hand me my guitar time and time again after I'd set it aside. "Persistence is just as important. It's what sets you apart from the quitters."

I'd huff and puff and pout, but I'd take the guitar and try until I got it.

"Life is what you make, boy," he'd tell me. "You get back what you put in. You quit on life and it will quit on you right back."

I don't go back to sleep until I've finished the song.

20 Robyn.

BY THE TIME WE REACH CHARLOTTE, I HAVE COOLED DOWN CONSIDERABLY. Both from my humiliating encounter with Jase Wade and my anger at Dallas.

Katie talks me through it as we follow behind the convoy, reminding me that it's sweet that Dallas cares, though he could certainly demonstrate that concern in more appropriate ways. But then he wouldn't be Dallas. After a hot shower and a good night's sleep in the hotel, I decide it's a new day and I'm not going to let my past cast a shadow on it.

At least that's the Kool-Aid I'm drinking until I see him.

Dallas is in the middle of sound check when we arrive at the amphitheater. He's wearing a Midnight Bay trucker hat and his black T-s.h.i.+rt fits just snug enough to make me jealous of how close it is to those muscles.

He's performing a new song, one I haven't heard before. "Tough All Over" must be the t.i.tle because it's repeated several times in the chorus. I catch a line about how she can throw anything at him she wants, a kiss, a hug, even a right hook. If she wants to cry, he'll be her shoulder. 'Cause he's tough all over.

I'm frozen where I stand, setting the Midnight Bay free sample boxes around the stage for the drink girls to distribute.

I have twenty dollars in my pocket that says that song is about me. And deep down, I have always been a Dallas Lark fangirl.

A few of the women who are working for the venue stop what they're doing to listen, too.

This is Dallas in his element. Strong. Seductive. Charismatic and hot as asphalt on a sunny day.

d.a.m.n him. d.a.m.n him to h.e.l.l in his tight jeans and his c.o.c.ky country boy swagger.

Look away, Robyn, my subconscious warns me. But I can't. He's up there in all his glory and I have the ideal view.

When the tempo ramps up and he launches into a cover of a song called "Take It Out on Me," I practically have to wipe the drool from my chin. It's not until a few of the workers step over and ask for his autograph and he quits playing to sign their stuff that I manage to tear myself away.

Katie hangs back with a knowing look.

"Not a word, Katie-O. Not a word," I command as I walk by with my now-empty boxes.

She laughs. "I didn't say anything."

"I could hear your thoughts."

She nods. "Uh-huh. And I could hear yours. You, my friend, are a naughty, naughty girl." She shoves me lightly as we walk over to the VIP area.

"Yolo," I say, using the phrase we both make fun of that means You Only Live Once.

"So true," Katie says, pretending to ponder the sentiment deeply. "So very true."

I don't know if it's how well the meet-and-greets go, or just how much fun Charlotte folks are, but I'm in a fantastic mood when the show ends. I'm not even as tired as I normally am after running around for hours. So when Katie and Drew ask me if I'm up for grabbing a drink at a college bar nearby, I say yes.

It becomes abundantly clear about half an hour in that I am very much a third wheel, but as long as they don't mind, neither do I. I knew they were hanging out a lot when we were on the road, but I didn't realize how serious it was until I saw them dancing.

Talk about s.e.xual tension. Hot d.a.m.n.

Drew is quiet. He pretty much hides behind his camera for the most part. I don't know much about him except that he's from Portugal, a retired athlete in his thirties turned photographer, but when I see the way he moves with Katie on the dance floor I am seeing the guy in a whole new light.