Free Chasing the Dream: Dream Series, Book 3 by Isabelle Peterson Page B

recognized Chase and were begging for his autograph. The first girl had Chase sign her phone case, the second girl had a magazine in her purse with an article about Chase that was published just this month. The third girl got very brazen and tugged down the front of her shirt to the top of her black-lace, demi-cup bra and had him sign her chest. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Chase ate it up.
    “What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked her with a wink, making her squeal.
    “Candy,” she giggled.
    “Ooo. I bet you’re sweet like candy, too.”
    “I am,” she said as she bit on her lower lip and batted her eyelashes. She grabbed a bar napkin and scribbled something on it when Chase handed the Sharpie marker back to her. “Call me and find out. I’m single, too,” Chase took the napkin, stared her in the eye, and tucked it into his pants pocket with his trademark smirk.
    Yeah, our past half-hour conversation was fake. He loves all the girls.
    Chase looked at his watch. He wears a watch, I noted. How had I missed that? I don’t know why it struck me as a novelty, but most of my friends, myself included, used their cell phones as their watch. “Sorry girls, but Phoebe, what time do we have to be where?”
    I pulled the clipboard that I had tucked under my leg and checked the schedule again. “Six-thirty. Rockefeller Plaza,” I confirmed.
    “Oh! We should get going,” he said, pulling out his cell phone and tapping away. “Watch me tonight on The Late Show with Jimmy Fallon , okay? I’ll have a message just for you,” he said, winking at the boob-autograph girl, then picked up his beer, drank a long sip, then handed it to the girl who had the magazine to be signed.
    He stood and walked over to Shelby, handed her two fifties and said, “I hope this covers it. We gotta dash.” Chase pushed our way through the girls, and we walked out the doors to an assault of paparazzi. Flashbulbs and shouts everywhere.
    “Chase!”
    “Chase! Look this way!”
    “Who’s the girl? Is it serious?”
    Chase posed us this way and that. I used the clipboard that I’d been clutching all afternoon to shield my face from the blinding flashes. Holy shit, this sucks! I glanced sideways at him and watched him eat it up. He loved this. How? He even planted a kiss to the side of my head for one of the photogs. What????
    The Town Car pulled up and Chase gave a wave to the ‘animals’ and their cameras then, helped me into the back of the car.
    “Wasn’t that fun?!” he asked, laughing and grinning.
    “Not exactly my choice of fun. How do you stand it?”
    “Hey, if they stop being interested in my every move, it means my career is on a downward spiral,” he said, sitting back.
    We started on our way to Rockefeller Plaza, and in the tight confines of the limo backseat, I couldn’t help but notice that the air was charged again with that EMP. He sat sideways in his seat just looking at me.
    “What?” I asked, brushing the sides of my mouth. “Do I have food on my face?”
    “Nope. You’re as put together as you have been all day. That was a really nice dinner. Thank you,” he said simply.
    “Oh yeah. That was somethin’. Gotta love the fans. Fans and paparazzi. Good times,” I said, trying to be casual about the groupies.
    “Don’t get me wrong, I mean, I’m happy that I have fans. It’s what keeps me working, but it’s actually nice to get some peace and quiet, you know? It gets old. I was talking about the dinner, before the bimbos. Thank you.”
    “Um, you’re welcome?” I muttered, thoroughly embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say. It was weird that he was thanking me for dining with him. Yes, it was surreal eating with a mega-star, but he seemed so ordinary for that short period of time. Not arrogant like the papers stated. He didn’t even finish his beer, so the accusations of him being a raging alcoholic were out of line. Come to think of it, when I first met him shortly after Dana had quit, he didn’t