“Wow.” A nameless woman steps forward. “Hi. I’m Brooke.” She extends her hand to Dean. “I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot. I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m super excited to hear you guys play. So are Kate and Lisa.” She looks over her shoulder at the other two girls.
Dean shakes her hand. “That’s good to hear. Are you familiar with our music?”
Brooke blushes. “Um, no. Not really. Heidi just said she was following a band and we could come along. Maybe meet the guys and help out and ... I don’t know. Have fun, I guess.”
“Well, ladies, you’ve come to the right place.” Paul grins and pulls over two empty chairs. “You’re more than welcome to join us.” He looks around. “I don’t see another empty seat. One of you will have to sit on my lap.”
One of the girls, Kate or Lisa, I’m not sure who, happily volunteers. Jesus, I think. So it begins. I’ve yet to see any “rock star” behavior out of any of the guys; I suppose it had to start sometime. As Paul plays Bad Santa, I roll my eyes and go back to what I was doing. I silently wonder how interesting things will get once we’re out on the road. I have no idea how big the tour bus is. Should I invest in sound-proof headphones?
“Don’t worry about Heidi,” Dean interrupts my thoughts.
“Do I look worried?”
“I don’t know. You’re making some kind of face.”
I laugh. “I’m just thinking, that’s all.”
“About?”
I glance back at Paul, Drew, and the girls. Their flirting makes me miss Latson. Not that I haven’t missed him every day, but this kind of throws it in my face.
“Hellooo,” Dean says. “What are you thinking about?”
I sigh. “That there’s only one lap I’d like to sit on.”
Dean gives me a knowing smile. “You guys will be together before you know it.”
“You promise?”
“Promise.”
~~~~
“God, I wish you were here.”
I stare at my reflection in the dressing room mirror as I hold my phone to my ear. I’m trying to remain calm, but we go on for the first time ever in about an hour.
“You’re going to be fine,” Latson reassures me through my cell. “I know it. I can feel it from two time zones away.”
I let out a heavy breath and blow my side bangs off my face. Mona, our stylist, intricately curled my hair to the left, since I decided to grow a zit on that side of my forehead. I know it’s from stress, but come on. Did it have to show up on opening night?
“Take a picture of yourself and send it to me,” Latson says. “I want to see you before L.A. does.”
“Okay. Hang on.” I put his call on hold and do as he asks using the mirror. I send the picture as a text message and then go back to the call. “Done,” I say.
It takes a minute before he receives it. “You look amazing,” he says. “Where’s the sign that says your mine?”
I laugh. “It will be spelled out in lights over my head on stage.”
I have to admit that Mona did a great job despite my new friend Zitty McZit. She gave me cat eyes with thick, black liner, and she made my lips look pouty with two shades of lipstick and some sort of gloss. My cheeks look perfectly pink, and the clothes she picked out are cute ankle boots, tight jeans, and a sheer white peasant blouse. I’m wearing a black mid-riff tank underneath it, and my hair falls in waves down my back.
“I miss you,” I say. “I could use a kiss for encouragement right about now.”
“If I was there to kiss you I wouldn’t stop. You’d be late for the show.”
“I’d be willing to risk it.”
Dean gags from behind me. My tone must give me away. “Are you two getting all mushy? We’re taking good care of her, G!” He yells so Latson can hear.
“Tell Dean to worry about himself,” he says.
A guy wearing a headset knocks on the open door. “D.U.? You have five minutes until meet and greet.”
“Thanks,” Dean says.
I meet his eyes. “D.U.?”
“It’s short for the band name. It’s easier.”
“Oh.”
“Still learning the ropes?” Latson asks.
“Yeah. They don’t give all the secret codes to the new kids.”
Roxanne comes speeding around the corner. “Why are you all still in here? Meet and greet. Now. Walk.”
“Gotta go,” I say to Latson as I hop off the stool. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it,” he says, “but break a leg anyway.”
I fall in line behind Rox, Dean, Paul, and Drew. We make a few turns down a couple of hallways before we’re led into a small conference room. There are no tables or chairs, just a group of about twenty people wearing lanyards and holding stuff like cameras and papers. Roxanne stops us before we get too close.
“These are the VIP people who paid extra for close seats. They get to meet you now and Ariel after the show. So be nice, smile, and sign whatever it is they want you to sign.”
We nod and she releases us. The guys wave and greet the fans like the pros they are, while I do my best to fit in. A few cameras flash and Dean’s name is shouted before Roxanne and another attendant start to let people forward. The first two ladies look like sisters and wear huge grins as they ask Dean to sign t-shirts. They each pose for a picture with him and then make their way down the line. We each sign their shirts and they want pictures with all of us, which surprises me. I mean, who am I? They haven’t even heard me play.
At the end of the session I meet a girl who came to see the show with her mother. She looks about twelve years old and asks me to sign her backstage pass.
“Sure. What’s your name?”
“Amanda.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Amanda.” I sign my name next to the words “Renegade Tour.” “Are you excited to see Ariel later?”
She nods. “And you, too.”
“Me? No one knows me.”
She blushes. “I didn’t know girls could play in rock bands. I always thought they had to be pop singers.”
“Oh, no,” I say. “Girls can be band members. They can play any instrument they want.”
“What do you play?”
“The guitar.”
“That’s cool.” She looks at her pass I just signed and smiles. “Thanks. I haven’t heard any of your music yet, but I’m sure I’ll like it.”
“I hope so,” I say as her mother asks us to stand together for a picture.
We finish the meet and greet with time to spare since not everyone who purchased a VIP ticket showed up. Roxanne explained some people buy the tickets just to meet the headliner, but she hopes that will change the longer we’re on tour.
“You have half an hour before show time,” she announces. “Make the best of it.”
Without consulting the guys, I decide to go back to the dressing room to busy my hands. I need something to pass the time to keep my mind off what I’m about to do. Even though I’m using another guitar on stage courtesy of the label, I brought my own with me tonight to keep me sane. It’s comforting to hold something familiar before doing something that’s the exact opposite.
I’m almost to the room when the same guy wearing the headset from earlier stops me. “Are you Jen Elliott?”
“Yes.”
“There’s someone waiting for you in your dressing room.”
Immediately my thoughts jump to Latson. “Thank you.” I grin and pick up my pace. Maybe he was lying when he said he was two time zones away. When I make it to the room, I expect to see him standing there with his lopsided smile and open arms. Instead, who I see stops me dead in my tracks.
“So.” Ariel Allyn flips her hair over one shoulder. “You’re the one dating my ex.”
Chapter Twenty
“Uh …” I stutter. I’m flustered by the famous celebrity pop star standing in front of me.
“You know,” she turns toward the mirror and checks her bright red lipstick, “Gunnar’s phone call surprised me. I didn’t think he’d keep my number.”
Wait. “Latson called you?”
She nods and turns to me, then pulls at the top of her strapless leather bustier. In fact, her entire outfit is leather. She’s got the body to pull it off, too. She reminds me of Anne Hathaway when she played Catwoman, but without the mask and ears.
“I don’t know who thought this was a good idea,” she says as she adjusts her chest. “I’ve got more double-stick tape going on than 3M.”