Insider (Exodus End #1)(94)
Author: Olivia Cunning

“I am so horny right now,” he said into her ear. “And it’s all your fault. I can’t stop thinking about my cock in your mouth with that thing up my ass. You give the best wakeup calls.”

She grinned to herself. She liked her newfound power. That thing had been a prostate stimulator, and she was now an expert at its usage. She could set the man off like a rocket in seconds. If they’d been alone, she might have discreetly rubbed up against him, but she was still too skittish to do something that bold in public.

Once the band members were seated at a long table near the back of the store, security opened the entry door and allowed ten people inside. Toni recorded one of them being patted down and having a metal detector run over his body. She’d wait until he finished talking to the band before she asked him to sign a release form. She decided to stick with this guy through his entire meeting. He was probably in his midthirties and was tattooed from head to toe. That didn’t mean he didn’t squeal like a schoolgirl when he got to shake Dare Mills’s hand.

“You are a god, dude! A rock god,” he professed.

“Nah. A disciple at best,” Dare joked.

The tattooed man held his forearm out to Dare. “Sign right there under the band logo. I’m having it fucking inked there permanently.”

While Dare carefully signed his name with a permanent marker under the gargoyle that loomed over the band’s name, the man started telling him about all the Exodus End concerts he’d been to. “I saw you in Hamburg, Germany, a couple of years ago. There were a hundred thousand people there. They never have concerts that big in the U.S.”

“I remember that show,” Logan said. “It rained buckets. Everyone was drenched and muddy. Max got shocked by his microphone.”

“He did?” the guy said, eyes wide. “I never knew that.”

“Yeah, just a little jolt,” Logan said, glancing at Max, who was too busy interacting with a female fan to know he was the topic of their conversation. “But the way he talks about it . . .”

“Dude!” the fan said to Logan, apparently just realizing who he was speaking to. “Duuuuuude! Will you sign my arm too? I’ll get all your names tattooed on there. It will be fucking awesome.”

He bellowed awesome like a demon-possessed death-metal singer. This guy was a riot. Toni simply had to interview him for the fan section of the book. She hoped he’d agree to answer a few questions.

Logan signed his name on the man’s forearm and then turned his attention to the giggling young woman holding a life-sized poster of him.

“Will you sign this for me?” Giggle. “I’m going to be at the concert tonight.” Giggle. “If you wanna hook up with me backstage, I’ll rock your world.” Giggle giggle.

Toni had no idea what Logan would have said if she hadn’t been standing right there, but she was relieved when he said, “There’s no after-party tonight, doll. We have to get on the road again as soon as the show ends.”

“What if I follow the bus to your next show? Will there be an after-party there?”

Logan scratched his head. “I think our next party is in Salt Lake.”

Giggle. “I’d follow you anywhere.”

Toni scowled. She wondered if she had any chance at keeping this man’s interest. Did she want to even try? He lifted his sexy eyes to meet her gaze and smiled suggestively. Her mismatched socks melted in her loafers. Oh yeah, she definitely wanted to try.

Through three hours of autographs and hugs, squeals and duuuudes, all the members of the band kept their cool and gave each fan a bit of personalized attention. When Butch announced it was time to go, there was a roar of outrage outside the store. People were still waiting, but the band had to get to the stadium to assist with sound check. Toni wondered how they had the energy for music with all this other stuff clogging up their schedules. Logan stretched his arms over his head, giving Toni a delicious view of his belly. She wondered if he’d like her to lick those abs of his.

Logan caught her drooling over his bare skin and offered her a little wink. Heat flooded her face, and she decided now was a good time to interview the record store employees. She needed to get her mind off Logan’s fascinating body and back on the job she was there to do.

All the store clerks raved about the band. The co-owner, who happened to be the owner’s wife, was particularly eager to share her enthusiasm.

“We usually only get unknown bands in here. Maybe twenty people show up to their signings—usually the band members’ moms and girlfriends. This is beyond awesome. I love how an act as huge as Exodus End is willing to take time for little record stores like us.”

“It’s because you have the best water,” Steve said, tilting his nearly empty glass in her direction in an informal toast. He downed the rest of his water in one gulp and then signed the bass drum skin that some wanna-be drummer had just slid onto the table in front of him.

“You, dude, are the god of drummers,” his fan proclaimed. “No one tears up a set of skins like Steve motherfucking Aimes.”

Interesting middle name. Toni wondered if the guys ever tired of fans calling them gods. If she had a dollar for every time she’d heard them called gods today, she could retire to the Caribbean and spend her days on the beach sipping mai tais.

“We really need to leave, guys,” Butch said, obsessively checking his watch now.

“Then we’re taking the long walk around the building,” Max said.

“Absolutely not!” Butch said.

Toni wasn’t sure what was meant by “the long walk,” but she followed the band as they stood, thanked the record store owners—smiling for pictures with them that were sure to grace the store’s walls in gilded frames before nightfall—and then headed out the front doors, where the waiting crowd was still milling.

“We have another engagement,” Max yelled over the screaming crowd. “We have to do the rest of this like sluts.”

Steve tilted his head, his brow crinkled. “Fast and easy?”

“Exactly.”

And thus began the assembly-line signing. The band started at one end of the crowd and signed anything shoved in their face—music scores, guitars, CDs, posters, boobs, T-shirts—if it had a surface, it got a signature. There wasn’t time for much personal interaction, but none of the band members seemed to mind all the touchy-feely going on. Toni would have taken a swim in a vat of hand sanitizer after being grabbed by that many strangers.