“Which one?” I asked, glancing at Riot as he walked away. “The first one, or the one near the end when Riot did the band roll-call?”
“Both!”
Riot ducked into the dressing room, then emerged with two bottles of beer held between his fingers. He started walking away.
“They were both great, but I liked the first one the best. It felt more natural as part of the song.”
“Riot liked it too,” Violet chimed in. “It gave him a chance to rest his pipes.”
“Excuse me for a second,” I said while the two of them chatted about the performance.
Riot had gone down the hallway that led to the crew bathrooms. When I reached the mouth of the hallway, I caught a glimpse of him ducking around a corner at the far end. Quickening my step, I hurried after him, taking care to remain hidden but trying to keep him in sight.
Was he meeting someone? That would explain the pair of beer bottles. I imagined Riot pointing at some skank in the front row and telling a security guard to bring her backstage. Jealousy flared through me, as powerful as it was illogical.
I followed him through the bowels of the arena until I rounded a corner and stopped in my tracks. The hallway was a dead end.
And Riot was nowhere to be seen.
I walked to the end and realized there was a tall ladder mounted on the wall. I followed it up to the ceiling, where it disappeared at an open hatch. A sign was mounted on the wall next to it:
ROOF ACCESS
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
Every instinct in my body was screaming at me to turn around and go back to the dressing room. Even if I did find Riot, and even if he was doing something innocent, he would probably be upset that I had stalked him. If the roles were reversed, I would be.
But I felt like a Golden Retriever chasing a tennis ball. I couldn’t stop now.
Sighing, I grabbed the first rung.
14
Roxie
Fun fact about me: there were three things I was terrified of more than anything in the world. The first was snakes. There was something about the way they slithered around unnaturally that triggered some primal fear in my mind and made me want to turn and run in the opposite direction. Even a harmless garden snake was enough to make me shriek at the top of my lungs.
The second thing was public speaking. Or getting up in front of a crowd in general. I could never be a musician, because just thethoughtof playing an instrument in front of an arena of fans made my mouth go dry with anxiety.
The third thing I was terrified of? Heights.
As I climbed the ladder, I kept my eyes on the rung directly in front of me. My curiosity was strong enough to overwrite most of my fear… for now. Climbing back down would be harder, but that was a problem for later.
After what felt like thirty billion rungs, the ladder reached the catwalk level high above the arena. Still doing my best not to glance down, I followed the catwalk around the edge of the arenato where it met another ladder. This one disappeared up through a hatch in the roof.
Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I caught a whiff of Riot’s scent. I was on the right track.
Groaning, I started climbing again.
Now it was impossible to pretend like I was only a few feet off the ground. The first ladder had faced the wall, but this one faced the interior of the arena. Which meant that even if I focused on each rung, my brain saw that there was an open chasm of air between me and the far wall of the arena several hundred feet away.
My heart pounded in my chest. I could feel sweat on the back of my neck, and it had nothing to do with the exertion of climbing. Soon my fingers felt stiff, and I had to concentrate on every single movement.
Somehow, running on pure adrenaline and stubbornness, I reached the top. Wind immediately stirred my hair as I exited onto the roof. There was a platform up here that extended all the way to the edge of the arena, with electrical panels attached to the spotlights that illuminated the exterior of the structure. The first thing I did was sit down on the floor to allow my breathing to steady. From up here, the Atlanta skyline glowed on the horizon to the south-east.
And there, sitting on the edge, was Riot Kane.
He was a dark silhouette against the city lights, one knee propped up and a beer bottle held loosely in one hand. He raised it to his lips and took a long pull, tossed it aside, and cracked open the second beer.
