seeing Aimee beckoning me. “Have a good show.”
He air kisses me so he doesn’t smudge my lipstick. “I always do.”
His words resonate in my head. Has he always been this cocky, I wonder, or did fame make him this way? I think of the guys from Reckless Alibi. When I told them they were great, they looked genuinely pleased. Grateful even.
I hear the mass hysteria of the crowd when White Poison takes the stage and begins to play. I’m never out there when they go on. I’m not part of the band.
“Come on,” Aimee says. “It’s time.”
I close my eyes and take a few calming breaths. Then I walk confidently over to my microphone twenty feet away from the band. There’s a huge smile on my face, not that anyone would notice. They’re not looking at me. I look out over the massive crowd and wonder once again if these three months will be my fifteen minutes of fame—or if there might be something more.
Chapter Two
Crew
“Holy shit, that was great,” Garrett says, stashing his drumsticks in his back pocket.
“Way better than drugs,” Brad adds.
I laugh. “As if you’d know.”
“I got high last week, remember? When Liam gave me that pill.”
The three of us double over in laughter.
“It was a baby aspirin,” Liam says.
Brad is confused by our reaction. “No it wasn’t. I got high.”
“You felt high because I told you it was drugs and you expected to get high,” Liam said. “Shit, it was funny watching you.”
“What? No.” Brad looks at me. “You knew about this?”
“It wasn’t my idea,” I say and point at Garrett.
“I should have known. They warned me you’re always pulling stupid shit.”
“You were getting way too stressed about these gigs,” Garrett says. “I had to do something, but I knew you’d never believe it was mine. It was easier to believe it was Liam’s.”
“Thanks for making me look like an ass,” Brad says.
Garrett smirks. “Consider it your initiation.”
Brad looks around. “I’ll consider this my initiation.”
Liam pats him on the shoulder. “You’re one of us now. We’ve got your back, you know.”
Brad swipes a drumstick from Garrett’s pocket and points it at him like a knife. “Don’t pull that shit again.”
Music pipes through the speakers in the hallway as White Poison plays.
“What are we doing back here when we could be watching them?” Garrett asks.
I shake my head. “We were told to disappear when our set was over.”
“Let’s go out into the pit. Who’d notice?”
Liam looks at me as if he’s on board. Brad shrugs. I step aside. “Fine, lead the way. But if we get busted, it’s on you, Garrett.”
“Why am I always the fall guy?”
“Because you’re the one who gets us to do stupid shit,” Liam says.
Garrett walks around us. “Come on. I think I know where the door is.”
Five minutes later, after trying eight different doors that lead nowhere, we’re fighting our way through the mosh pit to get a decent position near the stage.
“Damn, these guys are good,” Liam yells.
“That’s going to be us one day,” Garrett screams over the music.
Liam high-fives him. “Hell yeah, it will be.”
I look at all the screaming fans, then I stare at the band, thinking of what Garrett said: That’s going to be us one day.
Thirty minutes ago, we were up on that stage. It was great, even if the crowd wasn’t here to see us, a nobody band from Stamford, Connecticut. But after being up there, I wonder if all my childhood dreams are about to come true.
I see the girl from the hallway, the one in the gold dress who said we were good. She’s not part of the core band. She’s their backup singer. Her hips sway and she moves her feet as she sings. When she’s not singing, she’s dancing in place. I’m mesmerized. Maybe it’s the shimmery sequins of her dress. Maybe it’s the rhythmic motion of her feet. Or maybe it’s the throaty voice that sends chills down my spine when she has a brief solo.
I close my eyes and listen. She doesn’t sing long—just a few lines. But that’s all it takes for me to understand exactly what it is about her that’s affecting me. My stomach rolls.
I turn to walk away. Liam grabs my arm. “You’re leaving?”
“I’ll meet you back at the hotel.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “What gives?”
“It’s not like we won’t have three more opportunities to do this. I’m beat. I’ll see you later.”
I can feel him stare after me when I walk away, but