One was in the hospital for weeks. One’s facing charges. And one walked away with bumps and bruises. Or so the story goes.
Her eyes never leave my face as the impact of her words sinks in. She watches me put all the pieces together, and her face shutters the longer the silence stretches between us.
She draws a breath, the sides of her dress threatening to slip off her breasts, except I know it’s taped in place and that kind of wardrobe malfunction is extremely unlikely. Especially for someone still overcoming a worse scandal. She doesn’t need more scandal heaped on her name.
“Which one are you?” I ask as the band members’ names come to me—Katie Long, Mia Rossi, and Alexis Lovell. If memory serves, Katie was the one who ended up in the hospital, Mia was the driver, and—
“Alexis,” she answers.
“The one who walked away.”
Turning back to the bar, hiding her face from me again, she snorts. But it lacks the amusement and conviction of her previous snorts. She’s pretending to be unaffected, but it’s an act.
“What are you doing here?”
She lets out a sigh and stirs the ice in her drink. “My agent is trying to get our old label to sign me as a solo act. Katie’s out, and Mia …” She shakes her head again. “Our contract was canceled after the accident. Since I was the voice of reason of the three of us, my agent thinks we can convince the label that I’m a safe bet. But I have to walk a fine line of attending parties like this”—she waves her hand around at the elaborate colored lighting and fabric-draped walls—“where I can schmooze and network and prove that I’m sober and a risk worth taking.” She raises her eyes to mine once more. “I have the talent. They know I have the voice. They’re just not sure I won’t fuck it up again.” Picking up her drink, she jiggles the ice. “So Shirley Temples for me for the foreseeable future. Holding up the bar. Talking to people my agent brings over to meet me.” She points a finger in my direction. “No douchey assholes looking for a quick fuck.”
Chuckling, I hold up my hands. “Good thing I’m none of those.”
She quirks an eyebrow in disbelief, but a real smile finally stretches those ruby red lips. “Well, good, I guess. So now you know my story. What’s yours?”
Chapter Two
Alexis
The tall douche with piercing blue eyes and artfully messy hair who claims he’s not a douche—aka, the poster boy for douches everywhere—laughs at my question and drains his drink.
He turns to catch the bartender’s attention and orders a glass of tonic water with a slice of lime. Fresh glass in hand, he turns and tinks it against my glass. “You know, tonic with lime is a more convincing non-alcoholic drink if you’re looking to keep up appearances. No one can tell the difference between it and a vodka tonic.”
I make a face, stirring my remaining cherry in my glass. “But then I’d have to drink tonic water. At least a Shirley Temple tastes good.”
His low chuckle sends a wave of goosebumps down my arms. He has a sexy laugh. Too bad I’ve sworn off men as well as booze and all other forms of fun at parties. A few months ago, I was partying with actual rock stars. I even made out with Mason Gray, the drummer for Cataclysm. He hosted the best parties until his bandmates made him stop, claiming they were too crazy, too out of control. That he was out of control.
Katie, Mia, and I had scoffed at the time, riding high on newfound fame and fortune.
Now, though …
I see what they were getting at. Cataclysm is still going strong, untainted by career-ending scandals.
Katie, Mia, and me? Maybe we should’ve listened better.
Maybe I should’ve listened better. Tried harder to rein them in.
Now it’s up to me to keep on the straight and narrow, at least if I want to make something of what might be the last chance I have in this industry. I grew up following the careers of all the famous female artists. So many of them have a brief, meteoric rise, and then it burns out just as fast, ending with them broken.
I promised myself when we started that I wouldn’t end up that way. That we wouldn’t end up that way. I’ve already broken the second promise. This is my last chance to make good on the first.