Now That I've Found You - Kristina Forest Page 0,68

them is going right down the drain.

I know how terrible it feels to lose out on the chance of a lifetime. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially not Milo, after all the sacrifices he’s made for his music. I’m standing right here. I have to do something.

I take a couple of steps forward and place my hand on the A&R rep’s shoulder. He turns around and quirks an eyebrow.

“Hey, do I know you?” I ask. “You look familiar.”

He looks me up and down. “I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure? Weren’t you at Yara Shahidi’s birthday party last February?” I wasn’t even at Yara Shahidi’s birthday party, but I heard about it.

“Nope,” he says. “Wasn’t me.”

I spare a quick glance past him toward the stage. Raf leans into the microphone again, but it’s still not working.

The A&R rep shoves his wallet into his pocket.

“Maybe you just have one of those faces,” I say, coming around to stand in front of him. I lift my baseball cap so that it’s no longer so low on my face. “I’m Evie Jones. You might not know me, but my parents—”

“Are Marie and Andrew Jones,” he finishes. “I know your grandmother. You were involved in that Paul Christopher drama a couple of months ago.”

“All water under the bridge,” I say smoothly, flashing a bright smile. Although on the inside I’m wondering if I’ve made things infinitely worse. He could be one of Paul Christopher’s superfans.

“I’ve never seen a Paul Christopher movie,” he says. He grabs the beer that I thought he was trying to abandon. “Thrillers aren’t my thing. I like classic movies. Like your grandmother’s. They have them all on Netflix.” He peers at my face. “You look different.”

I shrug easily. “I cut my hair.”

He makes a hmph sound and looks around. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m a big fan of the band. They’re really good.” Insert dramatic pause. “I hope you weren’t planning to leave before you even heard them play. Were you … Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.”

“Adam Griffin. Vivid Music Group.” He finishes scoping the room and returns his attention to me. “So you like this band?”

I nod quickly, glancing once again over his shoulder. Milo says something into the mic. “Testing, testing.” And it works! Thank God. The crowd starts clapping as Milo strums on his guitar.

“They’re the best,” I finish. “Hottest thing out right now.”

“You’re not the first person to say that,” he says. “I hope you’re right.”

Adam turns around, observing the crowd’s enthusiasm. Slowly, he sits back down. I let out a relieved breath.

The good news is that the boys don’t disappoint. Aside from the mic mishap, and Raf forgetting a lyric or two from nerves, their performance is mostly flawless. Raf hops around on the stage, leaning down to sing to the audience, and Milo does that thing where he focuses intensely on his fingers while he plays. Ben’s drum solo elicits a few whistles, and Vinny makes playing the saxophone look effortless.

Adam nods his head along throughout, and when the band finishes with “Leather Pants,” he even smiles.

Their set wraps up, and the crowd’s cheers are thunderous. Up in the front, Milo’s parents aren’t jumping around like everyone else, but they are clapping.

Adam looks over at me, a hint of a smile still on his face.

“You were right,” he says. “Thanks for the tip.”

“No problem.”

I watch as Adam makes his way to the stage. The boys huddle together to meet him. When I see smiles break out on their faces, the knot in my stomach loosens. I was able to use my name for good. Go figure.

I sit at an unoccupied table in the corner to wait for Milo to finish talking. A few more minutes pass before the boys finish their conversation with Adam. He shakes each of their hands and makes his way out the door.

Milo stands on tiptoe, looking around, and after a beat, I realize that’s he searching for me. My stomach is a butterfly nest.

He spots me and lifts a hand, beckoning me over. I’m halfway to him when his parents beat me there. They’re both tall with dark-brown skin, just like Milo. They’re dressed as if they were on their way to a church picnic but were accidentally detoured. When I reach them, I hang back a few feet, trying to give them space. But Milo waves me forward again.

“Evie, these are my parents,” he says. “Mom, Dad, this is my friend, Evie, Ms. Conaway’s