How to Reprimand Your Rock Star (DommeNation #2) (19 page)

After we got back, I took my mother aside and gave her the deal. In the voice I had used with Dunks last week, I outlined the reasons why she should let me go to Europe.

“First off, you’ve always said you wanted me to see our homeland. Second, I just texted my classics advisor and found out I can get class credit if I write a few papers on my experience. And last, Keaton’s got a huge security team, so I won’t be in any danger. I know Greece isn’t the most stable country right now, but you should see the size of his personal bodyguard alone. The man’s a fridge.”

“I like the idea of you getting credit,” she said, tapping her lip. “But will you please promise me one thing?”

I leaned over the counter and watched her tuck her graying hair behind her ear. “Sure.”

“Please don’t squander your education for him. You’re only going to be a sophomore after you get back from this trip and you have three more years at UConn on full scholarship. If you quit, or leave the team, to spend more time with him, you will regret it. Don’t think I haven’t seen what the papers have said about this guy.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her.

She held her hands up. “I’m being honest, Thea. I really do like him though,” she said with a smirk. “He’s gorgeous and charming and my daughter’s clearly crazy about him.”

Reaching across the kitchen island, I grabbed my mom for an awkward hug. “Love you.”

She grabbed a hand towel and smacked me on the rear. “Now you get your shifts covered for the restaurant this summer. While you’re jaunting around Europe, some of us have work to do.”

Huh. Maybe
she’s
where I got my dominant tendencies. “Of course.”

I turned and headed toward my room when my mother stopped me. “One more thing, honey,” she said, pulling out her iPhone. “You really ought to log in to Facebook.”

I groaned and went to my room to turn on my phone and see the publicity shitstorm that obviously awaited me.

Keaton, again sprawled on my bed, greeted me with a grimace. “We made Perez.”

I wrinkled my eyebrow. “Come again?”

“Perez. Hilton. The blogger. Honey, we’re not just Facebook, we’re prime time.”

Turning on my phone felt like a death sentence, but I knew I had to do it. Immediately, sixty-two texts showed up unread on my screen. I had kept it off knowing it would be blowing up, but I never imagined it would be this intense.

OMG WHAT?!

TEXT ME. NOW.

HELLO?! KEATON LOWE?! WTF?

FJKDLSJL:FJDLKS HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME!?!?!?!?!?

Yes. Lots of caps, exclamation marks, and peculiar emojis like cats with heart eyes crying. All my friends knew.

“Come here,” I said. I was sitting on the bed and Keaton got up. “On your knees.” He moved to his knees by my feet. His head was level with my hips. “Take my phone, turn the camera around, and take a picture of us.”

He looked up at me with a smirk. “Like this?”

I nodded. “Just lean your head against my leg and I’m going to sort of run my fingers through your hair. I can’t control this situation, but I can control how we are perceived. I am not your groupie.”

He shook his head. “Never. I’m yours.” Keaton took the camera and snapped a few pictures of us. We were smiling, happy, and he looked positively amazing kneeling at my feet.

“What are you going to do with it?” he asked as we chose which one looked best. I liked the third because my hair looked less frizzy. “Is this what you meant by going public?”

“That’s later.”

I swiped my finger across the screen and finally opened Facebook. Yikes. Seven hundred notifications? I clicked on the picture of me and Keaton that Donelle took. We looked good, actually. I stood in front, arm out protecting Keaton. He looked surprised but amused. There were hundreds of comments and a gazillion people shared it. Lots of likes, too.

“I’m putting this picture up myself. Just to shut everyone up.”

“What’s it going to read?”

“Quality time with my boy.”

Keaton smiled. “I like your wording. You clearly get what I meant about posturing and how we can make it clear that you’re in the lead, darling. Mind if I share it?”

“Not at all,” I said, petting his head as he slid out his phone. “
Darling
.”

“Mine reads: This girl owns my heart and soul.”

“Equally good posturing.” I took his chin in my hand and kissed him. “This isn’t so bad.”

For once, Keaton’s laugh had an edge. “It’s fine from behind a computer screen filled with your own friends, Goddess, but out in the real world, it gets a bit messier.”

I grimaced. “Like how?”

He clicked on the website, Perez something, and there was the picture of us, with a less friendly caption:
WTF Lowe? After months off the dating radar, he shows up in some dorm room with some anonymous chick who needs a keratin treatment?!

Frowning, I fiddled with my hair. “I do not need a keratin treatment.”

Keaton nuzzled my curls and glanced down at his phone. “Don’t change a thing. I’m just saying this is the sort of silliness you have ahead of you. Especially on tour. Girls . . . may not like you. And my manager has already responded to my little post and wants to talk.”

I closed my eyes and felt an odd sensation. Seventh grade. I had just moved to town from another middle school and all the kids ignored me. When, weeks later, I finally asked someone why, she said I was on the team that constantly clobbered hers. People were jealous because I was so good and always won. It took me six months to make a friend, since I was so aggressive on the court and such an outspoken kid in class. I see now that I was intimidating, even then. Still, to be disliked by people because they were intimidated by me? That sucked. Was that how life was going to be now?

“I’ll deal,” I replied. “It’s worth it.”

Keaton tucked his finger under my chin. “Atta girl. You’ll make lots of friends with my bandmates, their gals, some of the staff. Don’t worry about that. I just need you to be prepared for the jealous nasties that are out there. And my manager’s fascist insistence on NDAs.”

“Bring it,” I said, emboldened by the way his blue gaze pierced the cloud of discouragement that had settled on me. “In fact, tomorrow we’re going out.”

“Out?”

“To the local mall. We’re going to have an early lunch in the food court. If we’re going to be together, we need to do it like normal people. Well, not
normal
.”

“Okay, but I may need to bring along . . . reinforcements.”

“You mean Maytag?”

“Maytag?” he asked, head cocked to the side like a confused pup.

“The bodyguard you have that’s the size of a refrigerator. I nicknamed him Maytag. Do you prefer Frigidaire?”

Keaton burst out laughing, doubling over, eyes crinkled. “That’s brilliant. His name’s Mort but I much prefer Maytag.”

“Maytag Mort, whatever. Is he coming?”

Keaton’s mouth stretched into a grimace. “Err, he’ll be the only one you’ll recognize. If I’m in
public
public, I need at least four bodyguards.”

I breathed in deep. This was heavy. “Okay, give them a call.”

“I’m not going to lie, Goddess, public outings like this make me nervous. Part of the package, I guess. But I’m glad you’ll be with me.” He punched a message into his phone and slid it back in his pocket. “Done. They’ll be in town by morning.”

I checked my phone to see the reaction to the Facebook post and whoa. Already it had more hits, shares, comments, and likes than the other one. And I had about a hundred friend requests.

Shit was getting real.

KEATON AND I HAD TO
be pretty quick in the morning if we were going to lunch in public and get him on the road in time. It was actually good timing because I could make it back to campus before my afternoon classes. And as for breakfast, my father’s head-sized pancakes were great, but I could only get maybe the chin and cheeks eaten before we had to scamper out the door. I was excited, exhilarated. We were going public. My phone continued its endless parade of texts, notifications, and whatnot, but they didn’t matter. Just he did.

And even though I knew that we’d be followed by his entourage, I didn’t care as much as I thought I would. Plus, his crazy manager wasn’t there to make me nervous. Maytag greeted me as warmly as a human fridge could, and I was introduced to Pedro, Johnny-Sam, and Lee. Pedro was a young, wiry guy with more tats than Keaton and really mean-looking muscles. Johnny-Sam was a real joker, and even though he put up a nonchalant front, once we were in the public eye, he was on Keaton like a loyal dog looking after his owner. As for Lee, he was another burly, quiet guy, but he was a former marine and I trusted him with our lives from the get-go.

The mall was fairly busy. Adults bustled around with shopping bags and kids hung out in large roaming packs like hyenas. The security team stayed around us in a protective halo. I thought they were going to literally escort us, but they basically walked around as though we weren’t there. Well, that’s how it seemed at first. Soon I picked up on how closely they were watching us and the other mall customers. And once the first “OMG” was sounded, the team proved their worth.

Ever watch a horror movie where one person notices a zombie and then everyone sees their reaction and then freaks out? Yeah, that’s what happened.

One skinny preteen was squinting at us and then her eyes bulged. A few of her friends looked in the direction she was staring as the girl’s mouth opened, in almost-slow motion, and she screamed at the top of her lungs. “OH MY GOD, IT’S KEATON!”

No Lowe. His fans are on a first-name basis with him I guess.

He tensed but I held his hand tightly, remembering his fear. I’d show him I was there for him.

Within seconds, from across the mall, teens and even their families hustled toward us. Some were screaming, one girl looked like she was crying, and some skater-looking boys hopped over benches to get near us. The team encircled us in a formation and ushered us quickly toward an exit used primarily for mall employees. Johnny-Sam had already radioed for the mall cops to back them up. We were nearly out of the mall, just a few more feet and we’d be gone.

They were a crack team all right.

Keaton looked at me with a defeated face. “We tried,” he said with a shrug. “Good effort.”

I frowned. “You mean that’s it?”

Maytag crossed his beefy arms and nodded.

Keaton drew me into a hug and I rested my chin on his shoulder. “This is the new normal?” I asked.

He kissed my ear. “ ‘Fraid so.”

I pulled away and craned my head to look over at the guards. “What if you guys just surrounded us while we ate?”

Lee scanned the food court. “I suppose if you picked the table at the far back left, the one near the fire exit, we could get you out of here if the fans got out of hand.” Behind him, I could see a swarm of people desperate to see us.

I looked at Keaton. “Can we do it?”

He glanced over my head at the crowd. “Know what? Why not?” He gave the fans a wave and my ears reverberated with the screams.

Lee looked at us somberly. “You stay right between us. We’ll basically form a diamond around you. Nobody will be able to touch you unless you break formation. Understand?”

We nodded. The big burly guards formed their tight box around us and we surged forward toward the table closest to Taco Bell. I wasn’t exactly in the mood for south of the border, but I’d take any kind of normalcy I could get.

“Smile, darling,” he said, whispering in my ear as he waved to the fans.

I managed a feeble, queen-like wave.

“Just be yourself,” he said as we made it to the haven of burritos and the secret exit.

People craned toward us and pointed their phones in our direction. I don’t know if I expected the
snap-snap-snap
of paparazzi like I had always heard on TV. This was much more quiet, but still as intrusive.

“Nice chalupa,” I commented, trying to have a normal conversation.

“That’s quite the gordita you’ve got there,” Keaton said, wiping a blob of sour cream from his lip.

I nodded. “I think they make a lot of these words up.”

Keaton snickered and took a swig of his Coke. “This is a nice little date.”