Fade to Red

“Maybe she was just trying to be silly and didn’t expect me to get so hurt…”

His blue eyes darkened as he just stared at her. Finally: “I’m not even go

Sparrow shot him a look of her own and pressed her lips on the top of Journey’s head. Journey’s eyes were drooping and within seconds, she was out.

A loud knock on the door made Journey jump, and her eyes popped open. Ian felt the frustration he’d never known until becoming a father—he wanted to strangle anyone who woke up his child.

“We need to put a sign up in the window when she’s sleeping,” he grumbled.

Sparrow smirked. “Okay, Grumpa.”

“You’re so lippy tonight,” he said before opening the door. “If your foot wasn’t so hurt, I’d take you over my knee.”

“I’d like to see you try, Mr.-” Her words were cut off when she saw who he’d let inside the bus.

Beckham and Brooke.

“So sorry you got hurt tonight, Sparrow. Is it broken?” Beckham asked.

“Tyler thinks it’s a bad sprain.”

“Still hurts like a mother-” Beckham paused when he saw Journey smiling up at him.

Brooke cleared her throat. “I told Beckham I wanted to come with him to talk to you—I feel terrible about what happened.”

“Do you?” Sparrow asked, not sounding very convinced.

“Well, yes. I think the whole thing was my fault.” Her words came stumbling out. “I was rushing backstage and tripped on something, and I think it’s what made you fall.” She stepped closer to Sparrow, but kept glancing at Ian and Beckham. “And then it was chaotic back there. When I knew they were going to get help for you, I thought I better hurry onstage for the next song. I felt so bad not knowing for sure what happened.”

Sparrow’s eyes narrowed, but she gave a slight nod.

“I’m so glad it’s not broken.” Brooke flashed a toothy smile.

“Yeah, me too,” Sparrow said.

“You look exhausted. We better let her rest, Beckham,” Brooke said, stepping toward Beckham and putting her hand on his arm. “Please let me know if there is anything I can do.”

“Me too,” Beckham added. “I can make sure there’s unlimited ice cream delivered while you’re recovering…”

“Not necessary!” Sparrow smiled.

Ian gave Sparrow a look, trying to gauge whether she wanted to say anything else. She shook her head slightly, and he reluctantly let it go. He didn’t trust Brooke, but maybe she hadn’t set out to purposely hurt Sparrow. He’d just have to keep an eye on her.

Beckham was taunting her … and wi

They’d been on the road eleven days and they were both getting more daring each night. During the Vegas show the night before, she’d been sure he was going to kiss her right there, but he teased her by coming as close as possible before pulling away. The audience had gone wild, screaming and cheering. She’d been disappointed he hadn’t kissed her and knew she had it bad.

She made a cup of coffee and looked at the time. Leo usually called her or Skyped when he woke up every day, but she hadn’t heard from him yet this morning. She missed him terribly, even though Chloe and Leo had already met up with her quite a bit in the past week and a half. They’d driven to the closer places and had flown once. Five days out of eleven wasn’t too bad, she told herself. No, it was awful—she hated being away from him for any length of time. After each paycheck, she pla

She stretched out on the couch and took sips of coffee, while her thoughts sluggishly wandered back to Beckham. She was making herself sick thinking about him so much. She knew she was sending conflicting messages, not only to him, but to herself. He might seem harmless right now, but she knew full well the effect he had on her. He was deadly. She wouldn’t let him destroy her life. Once was enough.

They were spending a couple of days in Vegas, one more concert there, and a couple of TV spots. Then they’d be making the long haul to St. Paul and then Chicago.

Roxie’s stomach growled so loud it should have woken up the entire bus. No one made a peep, so Roxie quietly left the bus, the sunshine nearly knocking her over with its brightness.

Beckham was just walking out of his. She hadn’t even realized their buses were parked next to each other. He was wearing a fedora and sunglasses. She would have recognized him instantly by his relaxed stride alone.

“What are you doin’?” Beckham asked.

“Looking for a massive buffet,” she said softly.

“That’s what I wa

She gave a little shrug and he lifted both arms in the sky.

“Roxie Taylor sorta said yes! Woohoo!”

She raised her eyebrow back. “Is that how you read that?” But she couldn’t help the grin that was covering her face.

“It’s exactly how I read that. Breakfast date with Roxie,” Beckham teased under his breath. “Want the best breakfast or the really good and fastest?”

“The best.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“I’ve never eaten so much in my life,” Roxie groaned.

“There’s more. You have some work to do.”

Beckham had ordered one of everything. They polished most of it off, but there was still a plate with heaping pineapple French toast. Roxie hit her limit with the omelet, potatoes, fruit, and beignets.

They had snuck into the Wy

The conversation was easy and light, even though people suddenly started coming by the droves to ask Beckham for his autograph. He was kind to everyone and posed for a few pictures. Roxie was impressed that he didn’t seem bugged at all by his meal getting continuously interrupted. The manager eventually came to their table and said he could take them to a private dining room. They hurried down the hall, into the much smaller room, and what was left of their food sat at an elegant table. Roxie picked at the French toast.

“Do you get sick of all the attention?” Roxie asked.

“You know … I recognize the fact that the fans are the ones who got me here, but … yes. I do get sick of it. It isn’t that I’m not grateful. I am. It does get grueling, though. I know it sounds clichй, but I’d rather just be about the music. That starts to become only a small part. I miss the days when I could sing in a small club and not get mobbed everywhere I go. I know it’s a mixed bag. I should be happy for the success, period, but I’m not cut out for this. Especially not sober.” Beckham leaned back in his chair and stretched.

Roxie nodded. “I can only imagine. It’s exhausting seeing you deal with it during this one meal. It’s constant, isn’t it? I mean, the crowd outside each arena when we pull into every town is enough to send me ru

Beckham laughed. “You should do a meet and greet with me sometime. It’s great and sometimes very, very frightening.”

“No, thank you.” She smiled as she said it.

He leaned forward, taking her hand in his and lacing his fingers through hers. “Please?”

She grew very still but didn’t take her hand away. “What are you asking for exactly?” she whispered.

“Everything. I’m asking for everything.”

He studied her eyes as she tried to keep the alarm out of them. His other hand stroked the inside of her wrist. Without taking his eyes off her, he lifted her wrist to his lips and kissed it, so soft that she shivered.