And as for Sasha, being with her just feels so fucking natural. Like she knows me better than myself. I can’t believe I wasted ten years without her. A shudder rips through me at all the heartache she went through on her own. But tonight, she’s about to find out she wasn’t ever truly alone in it. She’s about to hear first-hand how much heartbreak I went through without her.
I saw her discomfort earlier. Jitters at this life. The luxury. The extravagance. As if any of it could ever compare to her, or what we have.
After tonight, she’ll never doubt my feelings for her again. Excitement fizzles inside, whizzing through my blood on adrenaline fuelled shots.
I’ve always loved performing live. The electric, hair-raising atmosphere. The incommunicable buzz. No words could describe that rapturous feeling. The only thing in the world that beats it is being inside Sasha Sexton.
Having both in the one day, and getting to perform to the one woman who helped shaped the original dream, is the biggest dream I’ve ever had.
‘Are you going to answer that?’ Sasha squints through the dark at me.
‘Yeah, sorry.’ I hit the accept button, still adjusting to being accountable after the few restful weeks hiding in the idyllic Irish countryside.
‘Ange?’
‘I’ll be there to collect you in twenty minutes. Get those vocal chords warmed up, Rhino. Every woman in the city wants to feel like you’re singing specifically to them. Except me of course. I want you to sing directly into my bank account.’ Her low American drawl ends with a snigger.
Angela says it as it is. She possesses military-level organisational skills. No amount of smouldering glances will get me out of a gig she’s organised. Her girlfriend says she’s exactly the same way at home.
‘Good evening to you too.’
‘Make sure it is, Romeo. Sing like your career depends on it – because rumour is, it does.’
Ha. She has no idea. The material I wrote in the past few weeks is the best I’ve written in my life. Glancing at the gorgeous, naked woman beside me, it doesn’t take a genius to work out why.
‘Now, now Angela, don’t be so dramatic. You’re in for a real treat tonight, trust me.’ I stick my tongue out at the phone, winding her up is too easy to pass up. Maybe I’m more like Jayden than I realised?
‘The last man who said that to me ended up with his balls being stuffed up his hairy arsehole. Eyes on the prize tonight, Ryan.’
Oh my eyes are firmly fixed on the prize. Fixated even. I can’t wait to see her face when she sees me up there. When she hears the songs we wrote as kids. I just hope they mean as much to her now, as they did back then.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
SASHA
The Colosseum at Caesars Palace is like nothing I’ve ever seen before; huge but intimate; grand yet homely; unique, yet somehow familiar – like I’ve been here before in another life. Or that I was meant to be here.
A weird but reassuring feeling of déjà vu seeps into my skin as I take my seat in the plush, padded, central box. It’s the best seat in the house.
Wearing the Evangeline Araceli from earlier, I feel a million fucking dollars, even if I did only have four minutes to apply my make-up, thanks to Ryan’s incessant but highly gratifying urges.
The theatre below is packed tighter than the London Underground during rush hour. A sea of crimson Santa hats bob and jerk below. Several women have dressed as sexy Mrs Clause, others clutch signs declaring their undying love for my boyfriend. It’s utterly surreal.
A monstrously large Christmas tree fills half the stage. Thankfully I’ve got over my aversion to twinkling, glittering multicoloured lights because it’s one of the biggest, tackiest things I’ve ever seen.
Despite the reasons that initiated the switch, I honestly do prefer white shimmering tasteful Christmas decorations to the eyesores I’ve witnessed today. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed seeing them, and photographing them, but they’re definitely a case of what goes on in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Apart from what Ryan did behind the door earlier, he can bring that trick home every day of the week.
Home. My mind wanders to Chloe and Victoria and my heart fills at the thought of them bonding, spending time together. I know Chloe had her reasons for leaving, we all have our own way of dealing with the difficulties life threw our way, but honestly, I would have loved her to stay. Not just to help out, but to keep our family united.
When Victoria goes to college next year, we’ll be spread across three countries and it’s not a thought I relish.
A rustling sound next to me catches my attention. I turn, assuming it’s a waiter but it’s not.
It’s Jayden.
If Ryan is to be believed, his brother is the biggest player around. He looks every bit the part as he slides into the seat beside me, a wolfish grin adorning his lips. Lips that are full and plump, so similar to his brother’s.
‘Sasha.’ He greets me the French way, with a kiss on each cheek, though where we were raised is far from the Riviera.
