“Did you just say ‘Pop Tart?’”
“That’s what her fans call themselves.”
“Of course they do. Well, if our cover is ‘girls’ weekend,’ Chelsea should join us.”
Olivia grinned. “And if Chelsea’s coming, we might as well have Leilah join the party.”
Omar groaned.
“What?” Marielle demanded.
“I know how you are when you’re all together. You bring my sister into the mix, and Jake better have his accountant review your expense reports with a stiff beverage in hand.”
Her retort was cut off by a beaming Jake and Poppy joining them.
Jake shifted from groupie to all business as he handed everyone fresh mobile phones. “Everyone’s numbers are programmed. Only use them if you need them.”
After everyone had powered on their phones, he jerked his head toward the plane and said to Omar and Trent, “We should hit it.”
“Give me a minute.” Trent leaned in and gave Olivia one final, long, lingering kiss.
Apparently inspired, Omar swept Marielle into his arms and dipped her backwards to drop a line of kisses up her neck to her mouth.
“Keep it PG, you two,” Jake said, but his grumbling was good-natured.
“While you’re in a good mood,” Marielle said, as Omar returned her to her feet, “I hear Chelsea is as big of a fan of Poppy’s as you are.”
“You heard correctly.”
“Why don’t we have Chelsea and Leilah join us. If our cover is a girls’ weekend in Paris for the Poppy Jones concert, it would be strange if we didn’t include the girl who’s a huge Pop Tart.”
Jake started to frown, but stopped mid-furrow. “Actually, that’s a great idea.”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” she deadpanned.
“Hey, even a stopped clock is right twice a day.”
“I love it!” Poppy clapped her hands. “A real girls’ weekend!”
Olivia shot Poppy a look.
She shrugged unapologetically. “You have no idea how isolating touring can be. I’m surrounded by people, but the backup singers, dancers, and crew don’t want to hang out with the boss. And I can’t go anywhere without attracting a crowd. I travel all over the world, ordering room service and reading in bed.”
“It’s just as glamorous as I always imagined,” Marielle cracked.
“I know, poor little rich girl. But it’s true. I get lonely.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Marielle explained, chastened.
“Anyway, consider yourself an adopted girl gang member for the weekend,” Olivia told her.
Poppy grinned and then her smile faded. “Wait, are they civilians?”
“They are,” Jake said, “but they’re not the usual kind of civilian.”
Poppy quirked her brow. “Meaning?”
“Meaning,” Marielle said, “Leilah is Omar’s sister and she’s a race car driver.”
