fingers in her mouth and makes a gagging sound.
“In addition to the fact that Sebastian’s now fake-engaged, we do have a little problem, in the same way that the Titanic passengers got a little wet.” Monica gestures at one of the windows. Sebastian stands up and peeks through a crack in the blinds.
“Oh hell,” he says. I join him and take a quick peek. We’re in a parking lot near a large tan concrete building. An enormous sign over the front door says “Columbus Music Hall”. In between us and the building are easily a thousand people.
We sink back down into our seats.
“There’s not going to be any easy way to sneak you off this bus,” Sebastian observes.
“Well, that’s a problem. I was supposed to fly home tomorrow morning.” I glance at the clock on the wall. Eleven a.m. “I assume you’re playing tonight?”
“Yeah, the first set. Six p.m. We’re sleeping on the tour bus overnight, so our drivers get a rest, and driving back in the morning.”
“Maybe we could stuff her in one of my garment bags and carry her off the bus?” Monica sees my look of alarm. “I’d punch holes in it so you could breathe.”
“Gahh,” I say faintly, clutching my water bottle so tightly that some of it slops over the top.
“She’s claustrophobic,” Sebastian says in a distracted tone. His brow furrows in thought.
“Oh, you remembered,” I say dryly.
“Remembered how? You guys have some kind of history together?” Magnus asks. “That would explain a lot. I bet it’s quite the story.”
I stare at Sebastian. He never even told his brother about me?
I wasn’t even worth a casual mention. I spent ten years wondering why I wasn’t enough, stuffing the memory of that painful rejection deep down inside where it could fester into poison. And Sebastian never bothered to tell his brother about me.
Shame curdles my stomach. I just let Sebastian flirt with me. Worse, I flirted back. If I’m being honest, I was a microsecond away from letting him kiss me.
Sebastian’s staring off into the distance. He doesn’t notice the fury that’s brewing inside me. He drums his fingers on the table.
“He’s thinking,” Monica says to Parker. “Hard. Too hard. I’m afraid for us all.”
“He might short circuit.” Parker looks at Sebastian with mock concern. “Do you smell something burning?”
“We should check the smoke detectors.”
Sebastian snaps his fingers. “I’ve got it!” he says excitedly.
“Got what? Is it contagious?” Magnus makes a show of moving back in his seat. “Is it curable with antibiotics?”
Sebastian waves his hand at them in dismissal. “Silence, peasants.”
He beams at me, not picking up on the fact that I’m a second away from braining him with my water bottle. “I have an idea. A mystery fiancée isn’t the worst thing in the world. It would shine a spotlight on the band in a positive way. So why not run with it? We’ll have Russell confirm that I’m engaged, but say we want to keep our relationship private. Monica can do your makeup and lend you a wig and clothes. We walk into the concert hall hand in hand. The press will have something to write about other than ‘reformed bad-boy rock band blah blah blah’, or that stupid curse rumor.”
“But then what happens to the mystery fiancée?” Monica interjects. “Because the press would be all over that.”
“Well, we could go out on a few dates. Invite the press.” He says it to me, not her.
“Why would I want to do that?” I wrap my words in barbed wire and coat them in poison.
“Why would you…?” He trails off, staring at me. “Well. You know. So we could spend some time together. Catch up. Let me properly apologize, like I said.”
Properly apologize for casually ripping my heart out then dismissing me from his mind so thoroughly that he didn’t even mention me to his own brother? Yeah, that’ll happen when pigs get pilot licenses.
But he apparently needs something from me. Well, I’m no longer in the mood to be charitable.
“I’ll pass on the dates with you. We’ve spent more than enough time together.” His eyes flare with hurt and confusion. Join the club, I think angrily. “But I’ll agree to walk into the concert hall in disguise, if you agree to play at the fairgrounds. Then you can find someone else to play the role of fake fiancée.”
“Are you kidding?” he splutters.
I shrug. “Hey. A favor for a favor.”
He sits there for a long, long moment, his warm gaze gone hard and angry.