“I had to bring him with,” Reagan explained. “There was no way he could get me in the limo and then force his way to the other car.”
“It’s fine,” Butch said. “I could probably use some backup.” He lifted the phone receiver and spoke to the driver. “Take us to the venue.”
“I thought we would go back to the bus,” Toni said. “I’d like to rest for a few minutes before the meet and greet. Take a shower. Change clothes. Breathe!”
“The bus will meet us there,” Logan said. “Are you tired?”
“I’ve never been more exhausted.”
“The fun’s just getting started,” Max said. “I can’t even imagine what this meet and greet is going to be like.” He glared at Logan, who was silently praying for a lack of bloodshed between their fans and the protesters.
“Do you think anyone will notice if I skip it?” Dare asked, crossing his arms over his chest and giving off that “go away” vibe he’d perfected years ago.
Hoping to ignore the animosity in the car, Logan wrapped an arm around Toni’s shoulders and tugged her closer. “Why don’t you close your eyes for a moment? I’ve got you.”
“I’m not used to this much excitement,” she said, relaxing against his side, her head against his shoulder. “I’m a reclusive book geek, you know.”
“I read a book once,” Logan said.
“It was called Fast Sluts, Slow Rides,” Steve said.
Toni chuckled. “I think I’ve read that one.”
“Did it have a happy ending?” Steve asked.
“Yeah, the kind you pay extra for at a massage parlor,” Toni said.
All the limo occupants laughed. The tension between the bandmates eased. Logan knew they would forgive him sooner or later. It wasn’t as if he fucked up everyone’s life on purpose. He didn’t mean to cause trouble. Things just sort of happened that way for him.
His guilt diminished, Logan relaxed against Toni and closed his eyes. Something about her excited him and soothed him at the same time. He wondered if she’d stay on tour longer if he refused to be cooperative during his part of the interview. Because one thing was clear. He wanted her to stick around.
Nine
Inside the arena, Toni exited the bathroom of the women’s dressing room with a towel around her head. The entire room was filled with flowers and chocolates, stuffed animals and leather apparel. With the exception of the leather, it looked like Valentine’s Day had thrown up in the place. Apparently Reagan had a lot of admirers. She was sitting in her bra and panties on the arm of a sofa with her bare feet on the sofa cushion, tinkering with an electric guitar. She’d strum a few notes, pause, try a few other notes, nod, jot something down on her knee with a pen and go back to strumming.
Toni was just happy to have one of the members of the band to herself. Perhaps she could stage an informal interview. Logan didn’t count. When she was alone with him, the last thing on her mind was asking questions of a nonsexual sort. Technically, Reagan was only a temporary part of the band, but that didn’t mean she didn’t deserve a chapter in the book.
Toni plucked a card from a bouquet of two dozen long-stemmed black roses. Toni had never seen black roses before. They were a bit macabre for her tastes. The card read, You’re a goddess. I love your guitar work. I hope I get to see you in person tonight. Your devoted fan and fed-up vocalist looking for a new guitarist for his band (hint, hint), Shade.
“Who’s Shade?” Toni asked.
Reagan looked up from the scribbles on her knee. “Huh?”
“These roses.” Toni pointed at them with the card and then realized she probably shouldn’t have read it without permission. “They’re from some vocalist named Shade.” Toni hurriedly stuck the bit of card stock back on the plastic card pick. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Reagan shrugged. “I have no idea who Shade is, so you aren’t prying.”
“Do you always have this many flowers in your dressing room?”
The guitarist glanced around as if noticing the flowers for the first time. “It gets more excessive with each tour date. I donate them to the local nursing homes and they distribute them. I think Claire catalogs the cards and sends thank-you notes where appropriate.”
“Claire?”
“One of Sam’s personal assistants. I’m pretty sure he has one for each band he manages.” She laughed. “I don’t know, I just play guitar. All that logistical bullshit is beyond my perception.”
Toni moved to sit on the opposite sofa arm and added her bare feet to the cushions. “Are you writing music there?”
Reagan glanced down at the ink spots on her knee. “Uh, yeah. Trey and Dare have been encouraging me to find my own sound. I haven’t found it yet, but I’m trying.”
“Are you dating Trey?”
Reagan’s head snapped up, and she stared at Toni suspiciously from beneath her long dirty-blond bangs.
“It’s none of my business,” Toni said. “Just so you know, I won’t include stuff like that in the book. I’m not paparazzi, so you can trust me. I’m not out to ruin lives. I was just curious.”
“I’ll tell you about Trey if you tell me what’s up between you and Logan,” she said.
Toni’s faced warmed. She wished she didn’t blush so easily. “Uh . . .”
“Did something happen last night that you want to share? The guys are all acting weird today. Logan, yeah, that’s to be expected, but even Dare is acting out of sorts. He has this overprotective thing he does, and I notice he’s been extending that in your direction.” Reagan pinned Toni with a pair of inquisitive blue-gray eyes. “Do you know Dare from before?”
Toni shook her head. “No. I think he knows about my, uh, my newfound maturity.”
“Huh?”
“Logan and I, well, we . . .”
“Fucked?” Reagan lifted her brows and nodded as if to say, obviously.
Toni’s face flamed ten degrees hotter. “Uh, yeah. We did. And I happened to be a, a virgin.” The last word was scarcely a whisper. How mortifying to tell someone like Reagan Elliot that she’d held on to her V-chip until she was twenty-five.
“That son of a bitch!” Reagan set her guitar down and stood on the sofa. “I’m going to kick him in the nuts.”
“No. I wanted to do it. He didn’t coerce me or anything.”