“Of course!” Ellie jumps up, ready to follow this man anywhere. For all we know, he could be a stranger who is lying to lure us into the alley to kill us. When I don’t move, she glances back with a frown. “Olivia, come on.”
I scurry to catch up to her, the bottoms of my heels sticking to the floor as I do, and I cringe. I’m probably going to have to send these to the cleaners.
“Ellie, wait! We don’t even know if this man knows the band. It could be a trap,” I whisper-yell.
She giggles, pointing to the thing hanging around the guy’sneck as he leads us to the back of the bar. “Don’t be silly! He has a lanyard.”
Right, because that’s so official. I could buy that at the Dollar Store.
I want to argue that this is a horrible idea, but when I look at my best friend’s hope-filled face, the argument dies on my lips. This is literally a dream for her. So what if I saw the guy getting a blow job? He should be the one embarrassed, not me. I mean, who does that anyway? Right next to the bathroom of a packed bar, where anyone could see. It’s like he wanted an audience.
I keep telling myself that as we continue to follow the strange man until we reach a black door labeled ‘Private.’ I suck in a deep breath, working hard to remain calm. Meanwhile, Ellie is bouncing on her toes. I grab her hand, and she laces her fingers through mine, squeezing.
The man opens the door and steps aside, letting us in. The room is larger—and cleaner—than I expected, with two full-sized leather couches facing each other and a small table in the middle, full of unopened beer and liquor bottles. A large vanity takes up the back wall with four chairs and a mirror surrounded by bright white lights.
“They’ll be here soon,” he says before leaving.
“Holy shit.” Ellie releases my hand and steps farther into the room. “Are we really about to meet the band?” she asks, more to herself than to me.
She moves to the mirror, combing her hair with her fingers, then reapplies her red lipstick.
Ellie is effortlessly beautiful, with naturally caramel-colored hair that looks like she has a professional balayage. Permanently golden skin, which makes her green cat-like eyes pop beautifully. She’s a few inches shorter than my five-foot-seven frame, with perfect curves, ones I’ve always been enviousof. She’s wearing shredded black jeans and a low-cut white V-neck that reveals a flash of her red lace bra, topped off with her cool-as-hell leather jacket.
She fits right in here. I, on the other hand, look like I just stepped out of the movieClueless. I shift on my feet, glancing at my heels, suddenly insecure about my outfit choice.
“Hey, are you okay?” Ellie asks, standing in front of me. She knows me too well.
I force a smile. “I’m fine.”
“Look, we’ll just hang out for a few, and when you want to leave, just say Sprite.”
“Sprite?”
“Yeah, say you want a Sprite, and I’ll know you’re ready.”
Before I can respond, the door bursts open, causing us to jump out of the way.
“Hello, ladies.”
3
PENN
Two women boltfrom the door as we step inside our makeshift greenroom. My eyes immediately seek out the ones that have been burned in my head for the last two hours.
Barbie shuffles back, practically burying herself in the corner. She’s probably trying to hide from me, not surprising after what she saw. Her gaze snaps to mine, but then just as fast, she turns away. Not before I catch the red that tints her cheeks, though.
Casey was waiting on me after the show, wanting to finish what she started, but I wasn’t interested. As soon as I found those same honey eyes that were watching me in the hall, in the crowd, she was all I could think about.
She was damn hard to miss too, sticking out like a sore thumb in this dark, dirty place. I normally refrain from checking out the crowd. Not because I’m nervous. I just zone out, focusing solely on the music. But she was in my head the entire set.
I asked Brad to invite her and her friend backstage. They seemed like a packaged deal, and without the friend, I had afeeling Barbie would’ve declined my invitation. She looked like she was dragged here against her will, eyes all shifty, body stiff, and barely moving to the music. It’s hard as fuck not to move to our sound. Meanwhile, her friend was singing along and sending fuck me eyes to our lead singer.
Travis was giddy as fuck when I told him I invited girls back here. He knows I don’t do that shit anymore. I’d rather go home after a gig—alone—but this is different. I’m not doing it for pleasure either—more like amusement.
When I locked eyes with her in the hallway, there was something about her that made it hard to look away. Maybe it was the pure shock written all over her perfectly round, pale face when she saw Casey’s mouth around me, but she didn’t run. Nah, she kept watching, and I think she liked it.
Having her eyes on me made me harder than Casey’s lips.
