One Night With A Billionaire(65)

“Hey,” Daphne said, still wearing her wig from last night’s show. And her makeup, too, if Kylie recognized that shade of eyeshadow. Which she did, seeing as how she was the one who applied it. Had Daphne not gone to bed?

Kylie slid her phone into her purse. “Hi, Daph.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Fat Marilyn. I need to ask you a question.” She lit up a joint while sitting next to Kylie, took a puff, and then flicked the ashes in the aisle of the bus.

“Uh, what’s that?” She waved a hand at the smell, trying to dissipate it.

Daphne shot her an annoyed look. “You know the blond guy in the suits that comes to the backstage area at some of my shows? Cade?”

Kylie stiffened, alarm flaring through her. “Yeah?”

Daphne crossed her legs and then recrossed them, flexing her foot back and forth in a rapid motion. Her pupils were dilated, Kylie realized, and she was on something. This early? Or was this an aftereffect of last night? Her mouth looked swollen, too, and she kept taking drags off of the hand-rolled weed cigarette. “You see him leave last night?”

She forced her attention back on Daphne’s face. “Hmm?”

Irritated, the singer snapped her fingers in front of Kylie’s face. “Pay attention, Fat Marilyn. Did you see Cade leave with anyone?”

Her mouth went dry. Was Daphne trying to suss her out? Get her to confess? Yes, actually, I was in his limo and we went back to the hotel and had dirty sex for hours on end. I can still taste his cock if I lick the roof of my mouth.

“Um, I don’t recall,” Kylie hedged. “I think I might have left before he did?”

Daphne’s foot swung more rapidly in agitation. She flicked the ashes of her smoke again and then shot Kylie another irritated look. “I think the fucker’s seeing someone behind my back.”

“Th-that so?” Her stomach roiled nervously.

Daphne gave a sharp nod. “He’s not answering my texts.”

“Maybe he’s just busy?”

“I don’t give a shit if he’s busy,” Daphne said, her nostrils flaring with rage. She leaned forward and stubbed her “cigarette” out on the leather seat in front of her, careless of the damage she caused. “I’m doing my best to stay clean and he doesn’t even have the decency to tell me if he’s got a fuckpiece on the side?”

Kylie stared wordlessly at the blunt Daphne dropped to the ground and then back at Daphne.

“Oh, grow up,” Daphne said with a sneer. “When I say clean, I mean the really hard shit. Weed is just weed. That’s like saying you’re an alcoholic if all you drink is beer.”

Kylie didn’t correct her.

Daphne gave a huge sigh. “I’m sorry to drag you in on my troubles, Fat Marilyn. I’m sure you’ve got issues of your own.”

“No, it’s okay,” Kylie said, hugging her purse in her lap even as it buzzed with another text from Cade. “I understand if you’re . . . upset.”

“I shouldn’t be, should I?” Daphne mused, brightening. “He’ll probably dump whoever he’s fucking as soon as I let him know I’m interested.”

“Probably,” Kylie whispered, her stomach clenching again. But then she remembered the ring on her finger, and Cade’s sweetness and ignored Daphne’s hurtful words.

“Well, I’m not doing my next show until Cade shows up and apologizes to me,” Daphne said. “My fans can just fuck off until my personal life is all straightened out.” She picked up her phone and began to angrily punch a text in, her twitchy foot motoring a mile a minute.

Kylie stared at her in horror. “You shouldn’t do that. Daphne, think of your fans. The money it’d cost if you canceled”

Daphne pressed her hands to her forehead. “I can’t go on if I’m upset, though. I need my headache meds.” She got up from the seat, kicking aside Kylie’s potted violet as she did. “Snoopy! Where’s my pills?”

“You just had some an hour ago,” came Snoopy’s quiet voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I ask you to argue with me?” Daphne asked, her voice growing louder. “Or did I say hand me my goddamn pills?” She stormed to the back of the long bus.

Kylie leaned over her seat and scooped the dirt back into the tiny plastic flowerpot. This poor violet was never going to survive two months on tour. Good thing it wasn’t a kitten.

“You need to shape the fuck up,” a voice hissed at Kylie. She looked up at Ginger across the aisle. The older woman had her mending out and was shaking her head at Kylie as she fixed a button on a glittering costume. “I like you, Kylie, but that woman is becoming unbearable, and I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to hold your secret.”