Only With You by Monica Alexander Read Free Book Online Page A

show in Columbia, South Carolina was in just two hours. I was glad to get out of L.A. for a while and glad to be busy. If I was busy, I wouldn’t have time to think about Ryder.
    He’d called me twice after our awful phone conversation back in February. I knew he probably felt bad for being such a jerk, but I didn’t care. I needed to just move on, and if I called him back, it would make me feel worse. He’d obviously severed our friendship, and it would be wise for me to do the same.
    At least I had people on this tour who were fun. I liked Paul and the other guys. I’d met them a few years back when a friend of mine had dated Nick, the drummer. They were a good band who just never seemed to get the break they needed to make it big, so when we were discussing opening acts for the tour, I’d suggested them. Chris had agreed after going to see them perform live.
    Paul was a good guy, and we’d gotten close over the years. And his band mates were entertaining and kept things interesting. Well, except when they were showing me the food they’d eaten. I wasn’t sure why boys insisted on doing things like that. It was gross, but what sucked is that it made me miss Ryder even more, because it was something he would have done. Of course the smallest and strangest things always made me miss him.
    An hour and a half before the show, I had to get ready for a meet-and-greet with some of my fans. There were always about fifty fans who’d either won a contest or purchased meet-and-greet passes through my website, but they each got to meet me and take a picture. It was fun since they were mostly young girls who were so excited to see the show, and many times it was their first concert. I liked being a part of something they’d always remember. It was why I’d become an entertainer in the first place. After going to a Britney concert when I was just ten, I’d been hooked.
    The meet-and- greet flew by, and soon Paul and his guys were on stage. Then before I knew it, I was in front of the crowd. It had been just nine months since I’d wrapped up my last tour, and I’d put out my new album just a month after that tour ended. I’d worked my ass off recording in between shows because my management team had wanted to strike while the iron was hot. And it had paid off. We’d sold out every show on this worldwide tour in just a few minutes.
    This latest album was my third in four years that had been a whirlwind of craziness that I loved, but there was nothing I loved more about my job than being in front of a crowd. It felt like coming home. I’d always loved being on stage, singing and dancing and making people smile. There was seriously nothing better than ten thousand people screaming just for you and singing your lyrics back to you. Talk about an unparalleled high.
    I bounced out from under the stage, having been launched into the air, which never seemed to get any less scary no matter how many times we’d practiced it. I could hear the noise of the crowd as the opening chords to the title track off of the album, Bulletproof, started. It was a power anthem about standing up when people were putting you down and not letting them get the best of you. It had become a hit overnight since it resonated with so many people, including me.
    It was the same song I’d sung at The Grammy’s, but we’d varied the dance routine and the costumes to fit the colors and theme of the tour. For this particular song, I was dressed mostly in black, but it was a fairly small outfit of hot pants, a strapless top, a silver belt and silver knee-high boots. It was sexy, but still reserved enough for my fans under the age of eighteen. In my hand was a silver umbrella that I used in a variation of a step routine. All of my back-up dancers had umbrellas in black, silver or white to coordinate with mine as I sung and led them through the dance.
    My adrenaline was already in high gear when I walked to the end of the stage to finish out the song. As I did,