She hadn’t expected it to land the way it did, but it wrapped itself around her heart like the softest, warmest blanket.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Fern closed her laptop with a satisfied snap, the last of her interview questions finally polished, and leaned back against the sofa, stretching her arms over her head. Beside her, Daniel was already stacking the empty Chinese food cartons into a neat pile.
‘Full?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow as she watched him lean back and rub his stomach.
‘Stuffed,’ he groaned. ‘If I eat another bite, you’ll have to roll me to this gig.’
She chuckled, pushing herself upright and brushing a stray piece of rice from her top. It was already half-past seven; if they didn’t start getting ready now, they’d be the ones standing behind the velvet rope with the hopefuls, rather than breezing through the side door like the slightly jaded professionals they were supposed to be.
‘I need to quickly change. Bathroom is that way if you need it,’ she said before wandering into the bedroom and opening the small wardrobe where her work-life and social-life outfits awkwardly coexisted. Black jeans were always a safe option, paired with a vintage band tee and her leather jacket; professional enough for an interview, casual enough for blending in with the crowd afterwards.
Daniel appeared at the bedroom door. Fern was changed and now holding up a shiny laminated card dangling from a lanyard. ‘Your golden ticket. Backstage pass. Don’t lose it, or security will throw you out faster than you can say VIP.’
Daniel flipped the pass over in his hands, clearly trying to play it cool but failing miserably. His smile stretched wider. ‘So this is legit?’ he asked. ‘I’m going to be backstage, like, properly backstage? With the band and everything?’
Fern smirked, reaching past him to grab her bag. ‘Yes, properly backstage. Try not to faint when you meet them, yeah? I don’t think they do autographs for unconscious fans. Are you ready? You’re about to meet Ella.’
‘Ella?’
‘Best friend and work colleague in crime. Known her since primary school and been inseparable since. We work at the same magazine and live in the same apartment block.’
‘That sounds like a hell of a friendship.’
‘It is.’
They headed towards the lift just as Ella stepped out of her apartment. ‘There you are!’ Ella called, swiping her dark hair out of her face with one hand and waving her phone around with the other. ‘I thought Puffin Island had kidnapped you. Is that shop up for sale yet? We need you home, woman!’
Fern shot her a sharp, warning look, the kind only best friends could decode in a split second. One that said: Not. Now.
Ella’s mouth twitched, her eyes flicking between Fern and Daniel with quick curiosity.
‘This is Daniel,’ Fern said, clearing her throat. ‘He worked with Matilda at the shop.’
Ella’s eyebrows shot up, but to her credit, she recovered fast, extending her hand towards Daniel. ‘Hi, it’s lovely to meet you.’
Daniel shook her hand, his grin relaxed but curious. ‘Nice to meet you. So, you’re the best friend trying to lure Fern back to London?’
‘Guilty,’ Ella said brightly. ‘I’m not even subtle about it.’
The three of them left the building and climbed into a cab, the ride across the city threading them through the pulsing streets of London. The closer they got to the venue, the more the crowd swelled on the pavements, and with the window down the buzz was unmistakable, electric.
Daniel gazed out at the queue that snaked around the block. The crowd was full of people in ripped jeans and leather jackets, fishnet tights, heavy eyeliner, denim vests patched with band logos… in short, the unofficial uniform of gig-goers who knew the lyrics before the first note hit the air.
‘I can’t believe we don’t have to queue with them,’ he said, eyes wide, as the cab pulled right up to the side entrance.
‘Perks of the job,’ Fern said, flashing him a smile as she paid the cabbie and took the receipt.
A security guard barely glanced at her pass before unclipping the velvet rope, letting them through the side gate where the low murmur of voices shifted to the thumping bass of the soundcheck echoing through the walls. Fern noticed Daniel’s head whip back to look at the crowd one last time, as if he still couldn’t quite believe they were skipping the whole cramped queueing experience.
Just as they rounded the corner towards the artists’ entrance, the wave of confidence Fern had been riding stalled in her chest. There, by the loading bay doors, was Jax Devlin. He was leaning against the wall, Sharpie in hand, signing autographs for a cluster of fans who hung on his every word. His signature leather jacket was slung across his shoulders, dark hair a deliberate mess, smile cocky and easy, with every girl looking up at him in the hope that he would invite them backstage. And right before her eyes he flashed his signature wink at a pair of girls in front of him, their voices climbing higher in a chorus of giddy squeals. Fern felt the sharp pang of familiarity.
Jax’s head turned and his gaze swept the crowd before landing on her. He had the audacity to give her the same wink; slow, deliberate and very much loaded. Fern’s heart was thudding against her chest as they passed through the last line of security and slipped into the safety of the building, the fans’ cheers fading behind them.
‘We need to go this way,’ said Fern, leading them down a corridor.
Ella slipped off in the opposite direction after noticing their colleagues from the magazine, telling Fern she’d see them after the interview.
