Page 87 of Stage Dive: Short Stories & Novellas
“The feeling’s entirely mutual.”
The ties on my apron loosened, the chocolate-smudged material falling to the ground at our feet.His hands cupped my face, mine sitting on his broad shoulders.“Here’s the thing…I love you, Mae, and I have no fucking clue what I did without you all those years.You’re my home, my whole damn world.You give me peace and happiness and I promise to always love and respect you and treat you like the queen that you are.I’m telling you now, you can trust me.Always.”
“You’re going to make me cry.”
“Don’t cry, sweetness,” he murmured.“I’m not finished yet.Now I know you’re already wearing the ring, but I’ll ask anyway so there’s no confusion.Will you marry me?”
“Yes, Ziggy.As a matter of fact, I will.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”I sniffed.“That was quite poetic, you know?Very romantic.”
“Glad you approve.Enough talking now.”Then he smiled and kissed me.A soul deep, world falling away, perfection in and of itself kind of kiss that could never be forgotten.My toes curled and my heart happy-sighed.And we did no more talking for a good long while.
A Stage Dive Novella
“Somebody That I Used To Know” by Gotye
“Moanin’ At Midnight” by Howlin’ Wolf
“Let It Go” by James Bay
“Ex-Factor” by Lauryn Hill
“Always On My Mind” by Willie Nelson
“Exile” by Taylor Swift feat Bon Iver
“Go Your Own Way” by Fleetwood Mac
“Try” by P!nk
“Chew on My Heart” by James Bay
“No,” said the bodyguard.
“But—”
“Miss, do you have any idea how many people try to get backstage by claiming they have some sort of relationship with Mr.Dillon?”Face a careful blank, the man in the slick black suit stared down at me.He had a point.I’d pushed through a crush of fans, getting my toes stomped on several times, along with taking an elbow to the kidney, just to talk to this guy.God only knew what it took to get near the star of the show.
“I’d imagine a lot,” I yelled back at him.Necessary given the volume of the music filling the space.“The difference here is I’m not lying.”
“But since everyone says that, you can see from my perspective how that’s not actually a point of difference.”
Adam Dillon, rock star extraordinaire, gyrated his slim denim-clad hips like an Alt-Rock Elvis on the nearby stage.He pouted and crooned about the woman who’d done him wrong.Me.That’s right, I was the big bad ex who’d broken him and woke him to the dangers of love.Or so the song said.
The song lied and then some.
According to the lyrics he was currently wailing, I’d ground his heart beneath my five-inch heels before blowing him a kiss goodbye.From memory, there’d been a lot of shouting, but no blowing of kisses.And having just kicked off the flats I wore for work, I’d been barefoot, my legs and back aching.No way had I been strutting around in stilettos.Home from a hard day at the hair salon, I’d returned to find Adam on the couch.The same place he’d been when I’d left for work approximately eleven hours earlier.The same place he’d been for what felt like months as I worked my ass off to pay the rent.That’s when all hell broke loose.However, it wasn’t the only issue that had caused our relationship to bomb.Nothing’s ever simple.
But back to the here and now.I grabbed the slip of paper out of my front pocket, holding it up for his perusal.“My name is Jill Schwartz.How many of those people claiming to know him have one of these?”
His eyes widened as he scanned the name on the check, before widening again at the amount.And fair enough too.I’d had a mild panic attack myself when it had first arrived.When Adam decided to make a statement, he didn’t bother with subtle.If only I could figure out what it all meant.If it meant anything at all, of course.And that question was what had brought me here tonight.
The bodyguard looked me over more carefully this time.His expression remained unimpressed.Understandable, given I didn’t resemble a rock star’s girlfriend, past or present.A bit below average height, sharp chin, pronounced cheekbones, olive skin, and a resting bitch face that was the envy of many.Or so I liked to think.I was basically a squirrel with attitude, who didn’t mind cracking the odd nut or two to get things done.
Meanwhile, Adam with his long dark hair, tattoos, and lanky body had appeared perfectly at home on the cover ofRolling Stonemagazine the month before.He’d been sitting cross-legged on a Persian rug, strumming an acoustic guitar.It wasn’t hard to see how the bodyguard might struggle to imagine us as an item worthy of all this musical angst.
