“Loneliness is the other side of Love. You can’t feel one without having experienced the other.” ~ Johnny Outlaw
The color of Dalton’s eyes are electric, a color I’ve become familiar with. It’s the color that sets in before each show, part of the transformation into Johnny Outlaw.
Backstage, in the largest dressing room, I watch my husband strum on his acoustic guitar while lounging on the burgundy leather sofa that has seen more than its fair share of musical legends. He’s another one to add to the list. Propped up against the makeup mirror, I bring my knees to my chest. I’m usually quiet before a show, not wanting to disturb the band’s preshow mental prep, but since it’s just the two of us, I ask, “Do you want to go out after or back to the hotel?”
Dalton glances up at me before returning his gaze down to the guitar in his lap. “I want to go to the hotel. Just the two of us.”
I smile. “Do you need anything?”
“I need some caffeine and a bottle of water.”
I slip off the counter and get a bottle of water from the tray of requested tour rider items. Holding it out for him, his hand wraps around mine. He looks up again and smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Leaning down, I kiss him on the top of the head. “Me too.”
The door opens and the band’s manager, Tommy, walks in with Dex, the drummer. Tommy’s face is contorted, irritated by analyzing the lines running across his forehead. “Where the fuck are Kaz and Derrick? They were supposed to be here by now.”
Dex grabs a bottle of water and plops down in a reclining chair just as I sit down next to Dalton. He says, “Traffic sucked getting here. We should have made them ride with us.”
Tommy leans against the wall near the door. “You fuckers are gonna put me in an early grave.” He seems to catch himself right after the words leave his mouth. I jump as he swings so fast the air gushes past me, followed by a loud thump when he hits the wall with his fist. “Fuck!”
Dalton sits up and I worry the subject will disturb his calm. It does. A bitterness seeps in when he says, “We all miss Cory, man. You can still be frustrated and shit. It’s not going to change the outcome.”
I gulp heavily, my heart hurting from the topic. I didn’t know Cory Dean as well as the band, but I miss him. I’m reminded of his crash every time I get on a plane or look at his kids. I know Dalton does too. He’s talked to me about it, but he’s still trying to work through life without his best friend, and the other guitarist of The Resistance. It’s been a struggle for the band to move forward. Dex and Tommy have had their own ghosts to deal with regarding the loss. Kaz and Derrick will probably always feel they’re playing in Cory’s shadow considering they only have their guitar gig with the band because of his death. There’s so much to work through emotionally for everyone and they will each try to come to terms in their own way. But my heart hurts the most for Rochelle, the woman he left behind, who’s become one of my closest friends. I reach for Dalton’s hand. Our fingers entwine as my thoughts go back to Rochelle and her two young boys who will never really know their father.
Dex drops his head into his hands, and groans, “Can we talk about something else?”
The room is silent for at least a minute, before we’re startled. The door slams open. “What’s up?” Derrick says coming inside the dressing room. He stops when he sees everyone’s expressions. The vibe of the room clueing him in, his voice drops and he sounds solemn this time when he asks, “What’s wrong?”
Tommy flicks him on the head. “Nothing, Fucker! You’re late.”
Melodramatic, he grabs his head. “Ow! Fuck you, dude.”
Kaz comes in after him, ducking out of Tommy’s reach before he gets flicked. Tommy announces, “Ten minutes until show time. Piss or…” He looks at us. “Fuck or do whatever you’re gonna do, but be ready in ten minutes.” He turns and disappears out the door, closing it behind him.
Rolling my eyes, I ask, “Does he have to be so offensive?”
“Yes, that’s why we pay him the big bucks. He makes sure things go off without a hitch. But he should know that there’s no ten minute fucks when it comes to us.”
I laugh. “He shouldn’t know that actually, but I know you guys talk sometimes, so I’ll let that comment slide.”
Dalton chuckles. “Yeah, probably best.”
A few minutes later, Dalton finishes his water and asks, “Can you get me a soda or Red Bull? I need to tell Rochelle to add it to our rider so we have them at the next show.”
I start for the door. “I think I saw a machine down the hall. I’ll go check.”
“Thanks, Baby.”
I leave the room and close the door. It’s best that they have a few minutes to themselves while I search for that caffeine. A table with snacks and cans of sodas is near the stairs to the stage. I grab a Coke and head back. I slowly open the door, but stop when I overhear them talking. I don’t want to eavesdrop, but Dex’s voice is not low, wanting to be heard by everyone. “I’m not the same person. You’re not. These two punks are still learning the songs. But this is it, Johnny. This is the band. You’re either with us or you’re not.”
I have no idea what spurred Dex to say that, but it worries me. Cory’s death destroyed Dalton and almost destroyed us in the process. It was a black abyss that left him lost for a long time. But together we found the light and I intend to keep us there. “I found one,” I say loud enough for that conversation to end just in case they didn’t want me to hear.
When Dalton sees me, he puts on a smile that I can tell is only for show. My stomach tenses, concerned about what’s going on with him. I don’t dare ask before a performance though. He gets up, sets his guitar down, and takes the can, popping the top. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Pointing over my shoulder, I say, “I’m going out to find my spot.” I give him a quick kiss, and add, “Break a leg.”
Dalton nods and returns to the couch as I make my way out again. As I walk out from backstage, I find an usher to help me figure out where my seat is. My breath momentarily catches in my throat as I look out over almost twenty-thousand people all screaming for The Resistance. More than half seem to be women screaming for Johnny Outlaw alone. I’m reminded of the life the lead singer of a band lives.
I push down the anxious thoughts that these women all want what I have, and find my seat.
Magnetic.
Johnny Outlaw is magnetic. Captivating is an understatement. Like every other woman in this arena and most of the men, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of him since he walked out on stage. I’m drawn to him as he sings, his words arouse like thrusts to my heart.
In the beginning of us, nothing seemed to matter beyond the deep attraction I had for that man. Standing here today in the VIP section and watching him, I realize I also get the glory—the romantic side of this complicated man. The dark strides alongside as well, but every dark day is worth the hundred light ones he gives in return. Jack Dalton was born to be a star, and as I watch his legacy play out before me, I’m pushed hard from behind, my hands slamming against the railing. “What the hell?” I move quickly to get to safety. But my quick is not fast enough as some woman claws at me from over the shoulder of the guy between us. Standing on a chair, she catches my hair just as I try to duck. She still manages to swipe a little of it, causing me to scream. I try to escape my spot, but get trapped by the audience closing in around me.
The crowd starts to ebb and flow like a large lung needing air. The crazy woman pushes forward with the audience as The Resistance plays one of their most popular hits. I brace myself against the barricade and look for a way out. I’m yanked back by my shirt, which rips, sinewy fingers and fake red nails gripping tightly. I scream for her to let me go and the guy between us finally blocks her. She’s yelling how Johnny is hers forever and belongs to only her. “I wish you would die,” she yells.
Struck with fear gripping me, my heart is pounding, my head telling me to flee, but I can’t find a way out. The guy hits her arm until she releases me. Pushing away from her, I’m smashed against the barricade. About to jump on it, I step up and come face-to-face with Dalton. He grabs me and lifts me to safety on the other side of the barrier. As I slide down the front of his body, he asks, “You okay, Angel?”
Security is flanking him, two guys suddenly behind me, protecting us from the groping crowd. The band continues playing on stage, but the rest seems to disappear, leaving us in our own world. I rub where I had my hair pulled. “I’m okay.”
He looks at me, cups my face, and kisses me. My eyes close and I’m transported, the universe once again revolving around us. When our lips separate, it’s not hurried, but slow as if we have all the time in the world. His hands slide from my face down over my shoulders and arms until he’s holding my hands. “Come with me,” he mouths as we come crashing back into reality.
I follow him. Like an agile cat, he hops back up on stage easily. Leaning down, he offers me a hand. One of the roadies lifts me up and I take Dalton’s hand so he can bring me into his arms again. Together, we walk to the microphone. I don’t want to look out, hating attention on me, but I can’t resist this opportunity, this once in a lifetime chance.
Dex does a drum roll as Dalton talks to the crowd, “Hello San Diegoooo!” He holds the mic out to the audience, listening for their response. They do not disappointment. The arena is loud and excited, hellos and whistles heard in return. Dalton suddenly looks a bit bashful, nothing like the Johnny Outlaw from minutes before. He sends a sideways glance to me before turning forward and smiling. “I’m not always lucky enough to have this beautiful woman at my shows, but tonight is different and I wanted to introduce you to my wife, Holliday.”
My face turns red while I laugh from the exhilaration. “I can’t believe you did that,” I say, hitting him playfully on the chest. He grabs me as my name is chanted throughout the arena. The name Holliday is quickly replaced by the request for us to kiss.
He grabs me and does a slight dip. With the smile that could get me to do anything, he says, “We don’t want to disappoint the fans, Love.”
“No, we wouldn’t want to do th—” The lips I adore take ownership of mine right there in the middle of the stage during a live concert in San Diego.
And I savor every second.
We’re both laughing too hard, having too much fun, to keep it going. He hugs me and swings me around. “Love you. Now get back to your concert,” I say.
When he sets me down, he winks at me. I blow him a kiss and run off stage. I hear him through the speakers ask, “How about some more music?” The audience reacts loudly and the band starts playing again.
My smile is huge, my heart racing fast from the excitement. That’s the first time we ever made a public statement about our relationship and we did it in front of that many people… Wow. I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. I’m just giddy and so happy.
“You’re a lucky woman.” Standing nearby with a clipboard, a woman I don’t recognize eyes me. She has her dark hair woven into an intricate braid that hangs over one shoulder. Her glasses conceal her eyes a bit, but not enough to hide her beauty. She’s thin and wears a fitted Resistance T-shirt that fits over her large breasts rather snuggly.
I take notice because there was no true friendliness in her comment, reminding me that millions of women are infatuated with my husband no matter what kind of public displays of dedication we put on. “Thanks,” I reply, looking at her before walking away.
Tommy comes to me and says, “Well that just made the crowd go crazy.”
“Yeah, unexpected. Sorry for throwing the show off.”
“No, no,” he says, “I think it was great. I know it wasn’t a stunt but I think it was great to help with rumors and…” He holds his phone up. “The video is already online.”
“No way.”
“Yep.” My face must show my anxiety because he puts his arm around me and laughs. “Don’t stress. It’s great. It’s great for the band. It’s great for the tabloids. They eat this shit up.”
Rolling my eyes, I give my best fake excited, not amused at all look. “Yay!”
“I know how much you love the press,” he says sarcastically. “Can I buy you a drink to ease the pain?”
“I think I need one.”
“If it makes a difference, look at Johnny out there.” He leads me to a spot where I can see Dalton on stage. “A year ago I didn’t think I’d ever see him perform this song again, but look at him.”
We stand there and listen while watching him bleed his heart out through lyrics and riffs he used to play alongside his best friend. I say, “He’s where he was always meant to be.”
Tommy adds, “He sounds better than ever. That’s because of you. You gave him what he needed to heal.”
“I don’t know if he’s healed, but he’s in a better place.” The woman with the clipboard catches my attention again. She’s still waiting at the bottom stairs. Her glasses are tucked into her shirt now. “Hey Tommy, who’s that?”
“Ashley? She’s new on this tour.”
I watch as she speaks into a walkie-talkie before clipping it back onto her belt again. “What does she do?”
“She’s part of the crew that changes out the mics and instruments.”
“Like when Dalton changes to his acoustic guitar?”
“Yeah, and Dex goes through three sets of drumsticks on average per show. She makes sure the guys get what they need when they need it.”
“That’s a new position?”
“Other bands have Equipment Managers for it, we never needed it before. We have a great stage crew, but we agreed to try it out on this tour. She’s working out well. She’s the daughter of a roadie who worked for Metallica for years, so she knows her way around a backstage.”
“Interesting.” I eye her, but I feel a heat starting to burn me on the inside.
“How about that drink now?”
“Sounds good.”
The bourbon and cola touches my lips just as I see the band coming toward us. Dalton is leading, Dex next, Kaz and Derrick after. I think this is Dalton and Dex’s version of hazing the new kids. Or Kaz and Derrick just know to give them the respect they deserve. Either way, it’s amusing to watch.
When Dalton passes me, he grits his teeth and says, “You’re getting security.”
I’m left standing there with my drink to my lips as the guys pass by one-by-one and follow him inside the dressing room. To avoid a heated discussion, I’m thinking I might stay out here, maybe find the women’s restroom and touch up my lipstick when Dalton comes out and commands, “Come in here.”
Releasing a hard breath, I turn and walk inside. The door is shut behind me, making me feel like I’m walking into the principal’s office. I stand near the door and take a long gulp from my glass. Dalton watches me, seemingly fascinated by my every move. He cocks an eyebrow up and asks, “What happened down there?”
Shrugging, I reply, “I’m not sure. Just some crazy woman.”
Everybody’s watching me as if I’m supposed to be doing something other than what I’m doing. I shift uncomfortably. Dalton sits down on the recliner and says, “I know you like your freedom, but this life comes with a price.” The guys lose interest and scatter around the room with their phones in hand as Dalton continues, “I can’t risk your safety. So you can watch the show from backstage or take two guards with you back to the floor.”
“Maybe the insane lady who says that you’re hers forever should be escorted out. I’m not worried about me—”
“I am!” The leather takes a pounding from his fist. “Some people take their obsessions too far. I’m not willing to take the chance.”
His concern for me is heartfelt, but I worry about him just as much. “Then you need security too.”
“I have four guys. I’ll be fine. And don’t turn this around on me. If you’re going out there, you’re going with bodyguards.”
“Security makes me feel self-conscious.” I try a softer angle on him. “I’m not arguing with you about tonight, Babe. I just want us to make the right decisions for the right reason. I’m not having guards back home if that’s what you’re getting at.”
He drinks from a bottle of water. Eyeing me, I can see him trying to figure a way into my head, my thoughts, analyzing me to maneuver his next play. I look away. Reaching for me, he grabs my hand, his tone calmer. “We’re not arguing. I just can’t be worrying about your safety when I’m out there.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. It was being handled, so we can let this go.”
“You were being crushed by the crowd. I’ve seen it happen and you just want me to let it go.” Frustrated, he runs his fingers through his hair. “This is not the battle to fight, Holliday. It’s in your best interest to have protection.”
“I don’t want to fight with you or affect your performance.” I feel the fight drain from my shoulders. “It’s fine. You win.”
A small smile creases his cheeks. “It’s not about winning.” He loves to win. Who doesn’t? Standing up, he kisses me. His eyes flicker with animation when he asks, “How’d you like being on stage?”
Damn him and his sexiness. I smile. “It was incredible.”
“Is it bad that I liked telling the whole fucking world you’re mine?”
Raising my eyebrows, I say, “Apparently it’s already on YouTube.”
“I don’t care… I did that for us. It’s what I’ve wanted to do forever and it felt good.”
“We’ve never hidden our relationship. We just didn’t talk to the press about it. But for some reason, tonight, it felt so freeing, like the secret was out. Now the crazies know we’re together and they’ve got no hope.” I stroke some of his hair back. “But I’m not sure I want to go in front of that many people again. It was exhilarating and equally terrifying.”
He breaks out laughing. “Okay, I won’t torture you now… but no promises for later.”
With that settled I kiss his chest and take his arm. When we walk out of the dressing room, I see Ashley lingering around nearby, watching us. Casually, I ask, “Do you know Ashley?”
“Who?” Dalton responds.
Happy, I kiss his cheek. “Never mind.” I take another sip of my cocktail, then say, “I want to see you perform, so get the bodyguards.”
He eyes me with that winning grin that made him famous as we all walk out. Dalton says to Tommy, “Get her detail—two guys.” Tommy nods. Dalton kisses me quickly. “I’ll see you after.”
“Play my favorite song.”
He walks backwards, keeping his eyes on me and smiling. “I’ll play it just for you.”
I hear Tommy calling some guys and he points to me. When they come over, I say, “Sorry you’re stuck with me.”
A light blond, burly man says, “It gets dangerous out there. I would do the same for my wife in this kind of situation.”
Together with the bodyguards, I watch the rest of the concert. The band is incredible, like Tommy said earlier, better than ever. And when Dalton plays the song that he wrote for me, the one he started writing on our first trip to Texas together, he finds me in the audience and melts my heart all over again.