Even though I told her I would hire a car, she picked me up at the airport. She was a sight to behold when I spotted her in baggage claim, but knowing what I’d done behind her back instantly made a knot form in my stomach. When Anna saw me, she did a double take and her jaw dropped. She was grinning when she walked over to me though. “Oh my God…your hair…”
With a sigh, I told her, “I know…I look like Denny, right?”
Biting her lip, she shook her head. “No…you still look like you…the sexiest man on earth, but it does give you a little…edginess. Like you’re a badass.”
“I am a badass,” I told her, my lip curling into a grin. And I truly felt like a badass under her praise, but then the knot in my stomach tightened, sending a jolt of guilt and remorse through me. My smile dropped. Maybe I should just tell her now and get it over with. She’d be crushed though, and she was so happy to see me. Later. I’d tell her later.
Misinterpreting my expression, Anna tossed her arms around me. “Aw, babe, don’t worry. I like it! In fact, I think you should keep it that way for a while.” Grabbing my cheeks, she told me, “I am so proud of you, Griffin.” Then she smothered me with kisses. Good thing too, because if she’d stared at me a moment longer, those big, trusting green eyes would have broken me. But she ended up unintentionally distracting me with sex appeal, and I was able to firmly lock away the guilt. It was over and done with anyway, and it was all going to be okay. I was sure of it.
I knew Harold was busy shopping the show around to networks, but waiting for him to call and tell me it was sold was making me antsy. Anna thought my jitters were for the new D-Bag album releasing in the spring, and because I wasn’t ready to fess up to her, I let her think that. But the minute Harold gave me the green light, I’d have to break the news to Anna and the guys, and the thought of what I might tell them was chewing up my insides.
Every day, I mulled over things I could potentially say, but none of them sounded all that great. As it was, all I’d told the guys about my jaunt to L.A. was that I’d gotten a bug up my ass to cut and dye my hair. They’d rolled their eyes and made some joke about blondes not having more fun after all. I didn’t react to their jibes, because I knew when they found out the truth it was going to be a shitstorm. On both fronts—home and work. While I hated the fact that I’d purposely kept Anna out of the loop, I was glad I’d gone through with it. I was making new dreams for myself, since Matt and the guys had smashed my old ones into the ground.
Before I knew it, it was February, and I still hadn’t heard anything from Harold. I didn’t know what that meant, and a trace amount of doubt started to dull the shiny hope surrounding my new dream. I couldn’t imagine no one wanted the pilot though, so there must be a bidding war for it. Yeah, that had to be what was happening. He would call me anytime to tell me the good news, I just had to be patient. Luckily, I had something time-consuming to take my mind off it.
The D-Bags were ready to start promoting the first single off the new album. It was some romantic, fluffy piece of crap that I could have played with my eyes closed. The beat was infectious though, and I had a feeling it would go viral soon. We were debuting it live in Seattle at a local radio station that frequently promoted us. Then we were doing a media blast, hitting every major metropolis in every time zone, all in the span of a few weeks. It was short, fun, and frantic, and just the four of us. The fiancées stayed behind at their jobs, and the wives stayed home with the kids, since they wouldn’t handle the hustle well.
Our last stop on the tour was in New York City. Aside from Seattle and L.A., I think New York was my favorite place on earth. There was just so much going on here. The constant commotion, the hustle and bustle, the always having somewhere to go, no matter the time of day—it was a dream come true for an overactive type like me. I didn’t even need coffee in this town. The chaotic surge of life was enough to keep me energized.
As our car took us to our hotel, Matt laid out the plans for the day. “Okay, we’ve got two radio gigs today, then Live with Johnny tonight.” I puffed out an irritated breath at hearing that last one and Matt tossed me a glare. “Get over it, Griffin. It’s a big show with a big audience, and we need to be on it.”
“Dude’s an asshole. I don’t see why we need to do anything for him,” I muttered.
Matt ran a hand through his short hair. I swear he had less of it now. The stress of running the band and planning his wedding was getting to him. I might have felt sorry, but he was the one who’d had Denny line up this gig, so I didn’t. I hoped all his hair fell out. He should have known better than to go back to Johnny’s. The guy was famous for being an ass to his “guests.” He was like the evil love child of Ricky Gervais and Simon Cowell. Nobody who went on that show came out unscathed, but we were all supposed to be okay with being insulted. It was “part of the act” as Denny frequently told me. Whatever. Guy was a douche; the last time we’d gone on the show, he’d basically ignored the rest of the guys and ragged on me the entire time, insulting me in odd ways that I weren’t even sure were insults, but I was sure I didn’t like it. Smart-ass, pansy-loving jerkwad.
“I know he’s not the nicest host…but we’re not doing the show for him, we’re doing it for us. He has a very loyal, almost cultlike following, and if he says, ‘Buy their album,’ then that’s what they’ll do.”