Meet Me Backstage

23. Grudges

SKYE

I've managed to avoid Jax for nearly 48 hours, which at this point I'm considering an impressive feat. I've spent most of my time going editing photos and laying low in the hotel. In a few days, we'll be back home for a week and I can talk to Ollie and figure things out with Greg and hopefully bury these inconvenient feelings very very far down.

I hear a knock at the door and I curse under my breath.

If there's a handsome pop star on the other side of that door, I'm just going to have to barricade myself in the bathroom and never come out.

That'll work, right?

I walk over and look into the peephole. It's Roman.

Ironically, not the handsome pop star I expected.

I open the door and he greets me with a smile.

"Hey Skye," he says.

"Hey, what's up?"

"So I checked out of my room a bit too early. Turns out my bus is being refueled. You mind if I hang out for a bit while I wait?"

"Sure." I step aside and let him in, closing the door behind him.

Roman sits down on the sofa and I hear a grumbling sound. I turn to see Salty laying flat on the bed. His wrinkles have pooled around him so that he looks more like a melted pile of beige towels than a dog.

"Kay's running errands so I'm watching Salty," I say.

"I'm pretty sure he hates me," Roman says.

Salty gives him a judgmental scowl that pretty much confirms his assumption.

"To be fair, he seems to hate everyone," I say, sitting beside Salty on the bed and petting his head. "Don't you, crabby pants?"

He rolls sideways, leaning his head into my hand.

"Except you, I guess," Roman says with a laugh.

"Yeah, well, there's no accounting for taste."

"Oh come on," he says with a chuckle. "Who wouldn't like you?"

"Your and Jacks's fans don't seem to be too fond of me."

"How so?" His brows raise and he tilts his head slightly.

"Oh I'm just kidding, really. A couple of them have just gotten bitchy with me because I'm in the photo pit and get to be in front of them. They like to talk shit, but I pretty much ignore them."

"You're kidding," he says with a small chuckle and shake of his head. "You're what, maybe one foot in front of them? It's not like you're blocking their view."

"Yeah, I'm not really sure. They probably don't like that I'm getting between them and their idols."

"I bet it's mostly Jackson's fans. My fans are a bit older, more mature."

"Oh burn!" I tease.

"No, no, I didn't mean... we share a lot of fans and they're almost all great. I just attract an older crowd and I learned the hard way that those 12-year-old girls can be brutal."

I laugh and nod.

He's not wrong. I rather face a pack of rabid hyenas than a group of tween fangirls. Either one is gonna rip you to shreds, but only one is going to tell you your bangs make you look like a chipmunk with a bowl cut.

"How did you learn the hard way?

"Really? I spent my teens as a member of a boy band. The press was tough, but the young girls would really get to you. They would come up for our autographs or photos, and sometimes they would say 'No, not you!' and push you aside for another guy. Talk about a blow to the ego."