very public date with Callie as soon as possible,” Monica tells me. “How’s she dealing with this whole thing?”
Well, Callie hasn’t returned the text I sent from Magnus’s phone, or at least he hasn’t mentioned it, but I’m sure she’s fine.
“She’s a trooper,” I tell her. “I’ll go out and get a new phone today and give her a call. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
Monica gives me the skeptical side-eye, but then again, that’s pretty much her default expression.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sebastian
We’re gathered in a Nashville breakfast cafe when my new phone bleeps with an alert.
“Well, hello.” I look down at my phone. “Someone just turned on my old phone, and it’s here in Nashville.”
Magnus looks puzzled. “How did your stolen phone travel from Memphis to Nashville?”
“Damn good question.”
“I have an idea!” Monica flashes an evil grin. “What’s the address?”
I glance back at the screen. “3576 Rosewood Avenue. What are you doing?”
She’s typing away on her own phone.
“Social media, baby. I just put out a blast to all the Heat Lightning fans that your stolen phone is at that address. Hold on a minute.” She types some more. “Interesting. That’s the address of a computer repair shop. I bet someone’s trying to get your phone unlocked. That repair shop’s shady—it has one star on Yelp.”
Magnus lights up. “Hot damn. Let’s go down there and kick some ass!”
“Or we could call the police and not be arrested for yet another fight.”
He makes a disgusted face. “That’s some weak-sauce right there.” But he shuts up when I’m on the phone calling the cops. I normally wouldn’t make such a big deal about a phone that I was easily able to replace, but since it happened on the same night my hotel room was trashed, and now the phone has mysteriously followed us across the state, I want to see if there’s any connection between the two.
Half an hour later, as we’re finishing breakfast, the police call me back.
A small mob of my fans stormed into the computer repair shop—and found Terra Jones with my phone.
At the same time, Monica’s phone starts sending frantic bleeping news notifications. “Look at this!” she crows, turning the phone towards me.
There’s a video of Terra Jones running out the front door of a computer repair shop—and a mob of Heat Lightning fans swarming over her.
She tries to escape, swinging her fists, and they tackle her and take her down.
“Jesus,” Magnus says, shaking his head. “Why am I not surprised?”
“What a twatmuffin.” Monica shakes her head. “Want us to come with you?”
“Nah, I’ve got this. I’ll just catch a cab down there.”
When I arrive at the station, I find Terra Jones sitting next to a desk, handcuffed to a chair, under the watchful eye of a bored cop. The cop is typing on his computer, and Terra’s wiping at her face with her sleeve. Her right eye is puffy and swelling shut, and someone pulled out a chunk of her hair. She’s been crying; her face is mascara-striped like a skunk.
I glance at her cuffed wrist.
“She tried to run out of the station,” the cop says with annoyance.
“Sebastian, tell him to let me go! I found this phone lying outside the hotel in Memphis, and I was trying to unlock it so I could see who owns it,” Terra whines at me. “I was trying to be a good citizen!”
“Hotels have security cameras these days,” the cop points out. “Are the security cameras going to back up your story?”
Her gaze slides away and she stares at the floor. “It wasn’t right outside the hotel. It was a few blocks away.”
“Why would you find a phone and take it all the way from Memphis to Nashville?” I ask.
Terra flicks me a sullen look. “I live in Nashville.”
“You live in Nashville when you’re not stalking me,” I scoff.
“I don’t stalk you. It’s my job to cover your band.”
“All right, this has been fun. You pressing charges?” the officer asks me.
Terra flicks me a sullen look. “I’m not the one who stole your phone,” she mutters.
“So someone else did?”
My pulse quickens. She could be lying, of course. Or she could have someone on the inside. It would explain a lot, like how she seems to find us wherever we go, whether we’ve announced it to the press or not. And it would explain how she prints so many rumors that have half-truths woven into them. Maybe she’s bribing someone to give her information about me. I’d put nothing past her.
“I didn’t say that. I’m