I stop in the middle of the room and gulp. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to be his date, but with Kendra’s description … maybe I don’t. Not really.
“Uh, I thought they usually left him alone? Aren’t they more interested in Marcus and you since he’s the frontman? And Danny? I usually see more about them in the tabloids than Aaron or Mason.”
Kendra gives me a look that’s almost pitying. I guess sympathetic might be a better word. She hums thoughtfully as she turns to the dresses. “It depends on the day. Mason’s had his share of tabloid headlines, though definitely not as many since you came on scene. But when Blaire first left for Beckett Stone’s tour …” Trailing off, she shakes her head and pulls out a burgundy gown, holding it up for my inspection.
“It’s no secret that he went off the rails. There were lots of pictures of him. Most weren’t pretty.” She thrusts the dress at me. “Go try it on. I’ll wait here.”
Reflexively taking the hanger from her, I still hesitate until she shoos me toward the bathroom. She’s right, though. As much as this is catching me off guard more than it should, I do need a dress for this thing. And if she wants to help me, who am I to turn that down? I know she comes from money back East, plus she’s been with Marcus for a while now, so if anyone knows how to dress for something like this, it’s Kendra.
I quickly strip out of my clothes and step into the gown, holding it to my chest as I come back out. “Can you zip me up?”
Kendra’s face lights up like she’s thrilled I’d even ask, and she hops off the bed to help me. With both of us facing the mirror, she pulls the zipper all the way up, doing up the hook at the top of the slim strapless sheath. Rose gold embroidery trails down one side, splitting at the thigh high slit that allows me to walk.
“That one’s pretty. We’ll keep it as a possible.” Returning to the rack, she flicks through a few more, glancing between me and the dresses every so often before pulling out a pale pink chiffon gown and handing it to me. “This one next.”
We continue with this, Kendra taking me in with a critical gaze and giving nothing away as she has me try on dress after dress after dress until I lose count.
Finally we settle on a crimson dress with a deep V neck and a full skirt that looks almost vintage. “Yes,” she says, clasping her hands together. “This will go great with that red lipstick you love to wear. Subtle eye makeup, maybe a sparkly clip in your hair … You’ll be gorgeous.”
I blush at her praise, my mind still whirring with her revelations. “Good enough not to get eaten alive by the press?”
This time her look is definitely pitying. “Oh, sweetie, I’m not sure anything can save you from that. There are always people who take joy in tearing others down. But I think most of them will be more curious than awful, at least to start with, wondering about the woman who had the power to tame Cataclysm’s notorious partier.” She steps closer, adjusting one of the straps on the gown. “We’ll get together again and practice what will happen.” Her eyes are kind when they meet mine. “We’ll get you through this. The first time is always the worst. Next time, it’ll be a little easier, and eventually it’ll be old hat.” She gives me an encouraging smile. “You got this. And we’re all here to help.”
Suddenly I’m glad Mason encouraged me to come. I feel a thousand times better about this event, even as Kendra’s warnings that nothing we do will prevent negative press turn my stomach. But Mason will be with me. Kendra and Blaire will have my back. And I feel a little more like I’m part of the chosen family that Marcus insists everyone on the tour is.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Mason
I’m dying on the inside while Viola gets dressed for the awards show tonight. She spent two hours in Kendra’s room earlier getting her hair and makeup done, and when she came back … holy shit.
She’s fucking hot always, but she looked absolutely fierce. And that was before she got her dress on.
I’m already dressed in my tailored Tom Ford suit—slate gray, complete with a vest, but without a tie, leaving the top buttons of my shirt unbuttoned. My hair is slicked back away from my face, but since I can’t keep my hands out of it, I know I’ll have a few strands falling forward by the time we hit the red carpet.
The PR team will have our red carpet escorts there, and I know Kendra and the other women have talked to Viola about how that’ll go with her. Since none of them are famous, they’ll get pulled off to the side while we get our pictures taken together. But there’ll still be photographers wanting to catch us all paired off.
“Mason.” Viola’s voice floats out of the bedroom. “Can you help with my zipper?”
I’d fucking love to help with her zipper. But what I’d really love is to unzip that zipper. Unfortunately when she walked in with her hair and makeup done and I approached for a kiss, she put her hand in my face and said no. “You can’t mess up my face.” And when I pouted, she laughed.
I crack the door and poke my head in. She has her back to me, scarlet fabric draping her curves, the zipper pulled up as far as she could reach and a sliver of exposed skin peeking out between the two halves of the dress. Stepping in
