Cade got his answer a few moments later. “Marco?” A familiar voice bellowed. “Where the fuck is Marco?” The double doors leading to the stage slammed open and down came Daphne, stick thin and looking wilted in her now-sweaty costume. Her black wig was askew and her makeup was smeared on her face. Her eyes looked hollow and even as she thumped down the stairs, he could tell she was unwell.
His heart sank to his feet.
She also looked pissed. “Where the fuck is Marco?” Daphne asked in that shrill voice again. “I’m done acting like the performing monkey. Now where are my fucking drugs?”
And with that, ice formed in Cade’s belly.
Had he hoped that Daphne had changed? He should have known—she never changed. Anger, frustration, and disappointment warred for dominance in Cade’s mind.
Mostly, though? He was tired of this. He was tired of Daphne’s shit. Her empty promises. Her unwillingness to give up the drugs.
This wasn’t what he’d signed on for, that was for damn sure.
—
The air in the room had gotten incredibly tense, or so it seemed to Kylie. She held a small fan in front of Daphne’s face as the singer guzzled ice water and tried to stop sweating. She was in an odd mood—a mix of exuberance at how the performance had gone and flashes of crankiness. She was also unable to sit still, no matter how much Kylie chided her. Kylie had cleaned Daphne’s face of her performance makeup, but if she wanted a fresh face of makeup for her interviews, she’d need to stop fidgeting and stop sweating.
And neither seemed to be happening anytime soon.
Even now, Daphne’s foot hammered impatiently on the floor. “You said I could see Marco,” she snapped at Kylie.
“Your manager said you could see Marco,” Kylie corrected, blotting at the sweat on Daphne’s forehead. “I need to fix your makeup first.”
“Yeah, well, I need my fix. Why’s it so hot in here?” She fanned her face and twitched in her chair.
This was clearly going to be a losing battle. “Let me see what I can do to get you out of the chair, at least.”
The pop star was too jumpy for delicate work, so Kylie settled for foundation and some airbrushed makeup across Daphne’s face, and Kylie highlighted her eyes and put on a bit of peachy gloss so the pop star looked somewhat healthy. There wasn’t much she could do for Daphne’s veiny, bruised arms, so she just ignored them. “Okay. Done with you.”
“Great,” Daphne said, sliding out of her chair. “Now we can party all night long.” She winked at Kylie, her good mood returning. “You want some blow, Fat Marilyn?”
“I’ll pass,” Kylie said. She nodded her head at the man in the suit that sat on the couch—Cade. “Your friend’s been waiting there for you for a few hours.” And he’s cute. And he brought you a pink car. And you need to hit that like, yesterday.
Daphne waved at Cade from afar. “Hey, babe!”
He got to his feet, his expression concerned. “Daph—”
“Can’t talk right now,” she told him, heading for the door. “I have media interviews and then I have to find Marco. I’ll catch up with you in a bit!”
“Wait,” he began, reaching out to her.
She gave him a little wave and then bounded out the door of the greenroom. Immediately the crowd waiting outside began to murmur, and Kylie was left alone with Cade. His expression was stricken.
Poor guy. He was too nice to be treated like this. Too nice, and far too yummy.
“I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” she told him, keeping a bright smile on her face. “Hang in there.”
He watched the door for a moment longer, then shoved his hands in his pockets and looked over at Kylie. “Before or after she gets her drugs, do you suppose?”
Ouch. She winced, hating that he could see the truth even through Kylie’s sunny words. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”
“Yeah. Me either.” He rubbed his face and then gave her a faint, unhappy smile. “Join me for a drink?”
She shook her head. “I should probably stay sober, just in case she needs me.”
A wry, self-deprecating look crossed his face. “Funny, I thought the same thing when I got here. Now I think I need a really tall, really strong drink.”
He went back to the bar and helped himself.
FIVE
Marco must have given Daphne some good shit, Kylie decided with a yawn. It was nearly three in the morning and she was still partying hard. In the center of the greenroom, she danced to music and hung off of Marco’s well-muscled arm, laughing. Her other dancers were partying with her, and almost everyone had a bottle of some sort of alcohol in their hands, never mind what they were running off to the bathroom to snort. The greenroom had filled up again, and most of the behind-the-scenes staff had headed back to the hotel for some sleep before the buses left in the morning.
Cade was still seated at the bar, by himself, slowly nursing a drink. He watched Daphne, but never made a move to approach her.
Kylie had stuck around despite the late hour, because Cade was still there and she felt, well, sorry for him. Here was this great guy, waiting on Daphne, clearly insane about her, and she was blowing him off to party with Marco because Marco had good drugs. It wasn’t like Marco wouldn’t have drugs every night of the tour, Kylie thought grumpily. Heck, it wasn’t like Marco wasn’t at Daphne’s side constantly since she’d hired him as one of her dancers.