“Don’t let them see you come in! Mystique, remember!”
I laughed as I pulled my Aston Martin into the narrow lane between the venue and the building next to it. Will was always the showman and was likely concerned about the idea of us being spotted in anything but our usual outrageous Lover Boys outfits.
“What,” I texted back once I’d pulled into one of the private spots. “Slacks and a sensible button-up not screaming ‘rock star’ to you?”
I grinned and slipped my phone back into my pocket. Once the engine was killed, I hopped out into the warm late-evening LA air.
Minutes later I was making my way through the back corridors of the venue, weaving my way through the techies and service staff, heading to the green room. Off in the distance I could hear the roar of the crowd, more than a few screaming women among them.
“There’s the man!” said Sean Ford, our bassist, as I stepped into the green room.
Sean Ford was born to play music—simple as that. Which is why when Lover Boys broke up he didn’t waste any time in trekking out on his own, making his way as a solo artist. But he didn’t stick with rock. Nope, Sean decided that a change of direction was just what he needed and branched off into EDM. Gifted as hell, it didn’t take long before Sean Ford was one of the biggest names in the game, selling out arenas and headlining any music festival that was worth a damn.
“Here’s the man,” I said, striding into the room and shutting the door behind me. “The man is me.”
“Humble as always,” said Theo James, our lead guitarist, with a smile as he adjusted the tuning of his trademark glittering gold-and-white Stratocaster.
Out of the four of us, Theo had been the one to take the most out-there path post-Lover Boys. He was a reader, and when he didn’t have a guitar in his hands, he had his nose in a book. Many a magazine photo had been taken of him dressed in his glam-rock gear, his wild red hair draped over both sides of his face as he thumbed through one classic or another.
Once Lover Boys was done, he decided to devote himself full-time to his love of literature, going back to college for his masters and then his PhD, eventually ending up with a professor position at the UCLA English department. He was far and away one of their most popular teachers, and the more I thought about it the more it seemed like a good fit—after all, is a packed lecture hall all that different than a packed arena?
“OK,” said Will. “Not much time before the first act’s up. And we need you in your gear.”
Will. The tall, handsome-as-eff leading man? What more was there to say? He grinned, a pair of drumsticks tucked into his back pocket.
I listened to the sound of the crowd through the door.
“So much for a secret show,” I said.
“No kidding,” said Theo as he effortlessly flew through some arpeggios. “Remember back before social media when you could actually keep a secret like this?”
“Before social media,” said Will, a wistful tone to his voice as if he was thinking of the good old days. “Before everyone had a cell phone and people asked for autographs instead of selfies.”
I laughed.
“You all sure sound ready to rock,” I said, stepping over to Will where he stood near the costumes.
“OK,” said Will, turning his attention to the outfits. “Here’s what I’ve got for you.”
He reached into the clothes and pulled out a pair of pants and a shirt. The pants were a dark green leather, naturally, and the shirt was just about see-through.
“And I brought you a pair of snakeskin boots from my personal collection,” he said with a smirk.
“Perfect,” I said.
Will handed them over, and man, oh man, they were all that I was hoping for—maybe even a little more. Purple snakeskin boots with a few diamond embellishments here and there… What more did a rock god need?
“You know what I can never figure out,” said Theo. “Is how ironic we were being with this stuff.”
I laughed. “Are you telling me you didn’t have a genuine appreciation for the finest leather and animal skin?” I asked.
The boys laughed, but a sharp rapping on the green room door cut through the noise, followed by the door opening and a head sticking in.
“You boys ready?” the stagehand asked. “’Cause your opener’s done and the crowd’s sure as shit ready for you.”
“I think so,” I said, slipping out of my button-up shirt and into my vest. “What about you guys?”
“Yeahs” and “hell yeahs” sounded from the boys.
Pants in hand, I dipped into the bathroom to peel off my slacks and squeeze on my leather. Right as I slipped out of them, standing there in nothing but my vest and jet-black briefs, my phone buzzed in my pants pocket. A quick check of the phone brought a big, stupid smile to my face—it was a girl. And not just any girl—the one I was absolutely over-the-moon crazy about.
“Hey,” I said, the smile still on my face. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” she said, her voice as poised and mature-beyond-her-years as ever. “Just wondering when you were getting back.”
“Wrapping up,” I said. “Why, kiddo?”
“Just read something really interesting and I wanted to tell you about it, that’s all.”
“You can tell me over the phone if you’re that excited about it,” I said.
“OK, Dad,” she said. “Sure.”
On the other line was Sophia—my daughter and the most important woman in my life. Well, neck-and-neck with Mom, of course.
Sophia and I had an interesting history. Back when I first got into the lawyering game, I worked with more than a few underprivileged clients and saw a rougher side of LA that I’d never been exposed to before from my perch at the top of Rock Mountain. It was…humbling, to say the least. Through one of my cases I met Sophia, a whip-smart, funny-as-hell little lady who’d come from a hard start, to say the least, and had found herself wallowing in the confusing mess of the LA foster system.
After we’d hit it off, I spent a little time on her situation, doing my best to get her set up with a perfect adoptive family. And we found one—kind, rich, and with a big house in Newport that had Sophia’s name all over it. One problem right before we signed the dotted line and got Sophia squared away, however—it turned out that the perfect family wasn’t so perfect. Sophia’s potential new dad had been skimming off the top at his financial company, and the day before we were all set to get Sophia on her way, he got busted. Big time.
Her new life, the one she—hell, both of us—had been so excited about was over before it had even begun. And it was up to me to tell her the news. But when I sat her down to break it to her, a sentence came out of my mouth that I never imagined I’d say.
“You want to come live with me?”
Just like that, I had a little girl. And I haven’t regretted one moment of it.
“Dad, did you know that the Roman Empire actually didn’t fall in 476 when everyone thought?”
That was Sophia in a nutshell right there. I’d always considered myself on the kind-of brainy side—enough to pass the bar, at least. But despite being only twelve, Sophia was already putting me to shame. The girl moved from one interest to another, drinking her fill and moving on like a mosquito—a totally adorable mosquito, naturally.
Classical history had been her interest as of late, and my phone was constantly blowing up with little factoids about Greece and Rome and this emperor or that. And I loved it.
“Yeah,” she said. “The Eastern Empire actually went on for a thousand more years. And did you know that the name of the last emperor was Augustulus, which means ‘little Augustus’? Like a little version of the first emperor!”
Like I said, the kid had smarts.
“I didn’t know that, actually,” I said as I stepped into my leather pants while cradling the phone with my neck. “Uh, how’s Grandma?”
Though I had some pull with the LA legal system, a single man adopting a kid had still been a tough se
ll. When my mom, Mary, heard about my plan, however, she was all too happy to offer her services. She offered to move in too, which sounded great to me, and it wasn’t like I was hurting for space. Not to mention I wanted to do whatever I could to help her out after Dad suddenly passed a couple of years back.
It was an unorthodox-as-hell little family we had going on, but I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.
“Oh,” said Sophia. “She’s right here ac—”
There was a brief rustle on the other end, followed by the familiar voice of Mom.
“Noah?” she asked. “Is that you?”
“Nope,” I said with a grin. “It’s your other rock-god son.”
“Cute,” she said. “Are you about to go on stage?”
There was a trace of worry to her voice—totally par for the course for my mom.
“Sure am,” I said. “Just need to finish getting ready, and we’re ready to rock.”
“And you’re not doing any of that rock-star stuff, right?” she asked. “With the booze and the girls and god knows what else.”
The worry was palpable. Believe it or not, it was more charming than anything—just her way of showing her love.
“No need to worry about any of that, Mom,” I said. “This is a one-off thing. I’ll be back to being your do-gooder lawyer son before you know it.”
“Good,” she said. “Because you know I worry.”
“Actually,” I said, still smirking. “Hadn’t noticed.”
A knock sounded at the bathroom door right as I stepped into my last boot.
“OK, Mom,” I said. “Gotta go—give my best to the runt.”
We said our goodbyes, and I opened the door to see Will, his face covered in wild, colorful makeup.
“You ready for yours?” he asked, his magenta lips spread into a huge smile.
“Oh yeah,” I said. “How did I almost forget about the most important part of the outfit?”
He led me over to a vanity where the makeup girl was waiting for me. She didn’t waste any time going to work, and a little blush and lipstick and eyeliner later I was looking pretty damn good, if I did say so myself.
“Shit,” I said, tilting my head from side to side to get a good look at things. “Gotta say, pretty freaking fierce.” I checked myself, turning to the makeup girl. “Wait, do people still say ‘fierce’?” I asked.
She let out a chiming laugh at my total clueless ignorance.
“I think it’s all about the ‘yass queen’-ing now,” said Theo. “At least that’s what my students say.”
“Or is it the tea?” asked Will, just as confused as I was. “Like, your makeup’s the tea?”
Another laugh from the makeup girl.
“Hey,” I said with a good-natured smirk. “You wait until you’re elderly like me, not knowing what the kids are saying.”
“Yeah,” she said, playfully rolling her eyes as she finishing teasing out my hair into my trademark poofy, sandy-blond bouffant. “Mid-thirties are so elderly.”
“OK, boys,” said Sean. “We ready to do this thing?”
I took one last look in the vanity—makeup was done, hair was blown up to full eighties-style glory, and my makeup made me look pretty enough to kiss.
I was ready.
We grabbed our gear and headed out, the noise in the venue now almost overwhelming. Off in the distance I could hear the chanting of “Lov-er-Boys! Lov-er-Boys!”
I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. I was so ready to rock it wasn’t even funny.
The four of us strode through backstage like no time at all had passed since our last show. We soon turned a corner and were face to face with a screaming crowd of fans, mostly women, their arms reaching out toward us as if they wanted to pull us into the middle of them and eat us alive.
Maybe ten years ago I would’ve let them. But that night, it was all about the music.
At least it was—until I saw her.
She was tall as hell, standing head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd, and so goddamn gorgeous she hit me like a David Lee Roth scissor-kick to the face. I froze in place, my eyes locked onto her killer emeralds. Her face was slim and long and beautiful, her full lips rounded into an expression that made it clear she knew I was making eyes at her and that she didn’t know quite what to make of it. Sure, I’d given up music a long time ago, but this girl was so hot, so otherworldly beautiful, that all I wanted to do at that moment was to drop everything and fill an album with songs about how I felt at that exact second.
“Yo, Noah!” said Will, grabbing me by the arm and jolting me back into reality. “You gonna stand around all day, or are you gonna rock?”
I glanced in the direction of the girl, and she was gone. But the spell was still there. I turned back to Will and gave him nod and spoke over the noise.
“Hell yeah I am,” I said. “Let’s do this.”
I joined the rest of the guys as we made our way toward the stage. That old excitement rushed through me. Just like I felt every other time I’d taken the stage all those years before, the entire world outside of me and the boys and the crowd ahead of us seemed to fall away.
The chant of “Lov-er-Boys, Lov-er-Boys” grew and grew, and the moment we strode out onto the stage like gods the freaking place exploded.
I marched over to the mic as the boys took their places and strapped on their gear. With a quick swipe, I snatched the mic into my hand.
“Silver Lake!” I shouted. “Are you ready to rock?”
The screaming back confirmed that yes, they most certainly were.
But without even thinking, I began scanning the crowd. I couldn’t believe it, but right then and there all I cared about was seeing her again, the babe to end all babes.
6
PEPPER
Thirty minutes earlier…
The Satellite was a freaking madhouse. The place was jam-packed, and I was pretty dang shocked to see the variety in demographics that Lover Boys had brought out. The opening band had just finished up and the stagehands were busy getting the stage set up for the main event. A massive banner with the words “Lover Boys” written in a purposefully garish pink-and-purple Gothic font and their logo of a guitar stuck through a Cupid-style heart hung behind the drum set.
I had to admit it—I was getting totally excited.
“See anything you like?” asked Sam as she wrapped her lips around her ruby-red straw and took a sip of her whiskey sour.
Before I could answer, a couple of fans of her Instagram pulled her aside and got her into a selfie, Sam effortlessly posing for the camera and doing a peace sign like I’d seen her do so many times before, then sidling back to me like nothing had happened.
“That ever get old?” I asked.
“Nope,” she said with a big photogenic grin. “And if it did, that’s how I’d know it was time to quit.”
“No dodging the question,” said Katy, who was standing to my right, our backs against the bar. “There’s got to be someone here you’d be down to bone.”
“‘Down to bone’?” I asked with a smirk. “Someone left their manners at home.”
She grinned. “It’s Lover Boys!” she said. “Tonight’s the night for bad manners in the best way possible.”
Off in the distance I could see that Shania was already in the “bad manners” spirit. She was snuggled close to a guy she’d been chatting with all day on Bumble, and it looked like the match was an effortless success.
“Looks that way,” I said.
“How about him?” asked Sam, nodding toward some guy in a man bun and skinny jeans, his scraggly beard giving him the look of one of those guys who’d look equally at home working at a hip, local coffee shop or mumbling on a downtown street corner.
“Too hip,” I said.
“Hmm,” said Katy. “How about him?”
She gestured with her drink toward some kid who couldn’t have been older than twenty-two.
“You kidding?” I asked. “Not looking to get bu
sted for hooking up with a minor.”
“OK, OK,” said Sam. “How about that gu—”
Before she could finish pointing out the dude in question, a handsome, well-built guy with a killer smile and bedroom eyes moved in and began chatting with her. Before I even knew what had happened, he’d peeled her away from the group and off into the crowd.
“You see that?” I asked Katy. “Sam was just standing around and Captain Gorgeous just found her like it was nothing!”
“Captain Gorgeous,” said Katy with a smirk. “Is that an official rank?”
I gave her a joking eye roll in response.
“But seriously,” I said. “You saw that, right?
”
“Oh, I saw it.”
“I mean, I don’t want to sound totally entitled or anything, but I feel like I’ve been totally invisible to guys ever since I became single again. Is there something wrong with me?”
“Yep,” said Katy. “There is.”
My eyes widened a bit at this. “So much for being a supportive friend,” I said with a smirk.
“I don’t mean, like, you’re totally screwed up anything,” she said. “But let me ask you this—how do you feel about what happened?”
“Fine,” I said, my eyes flicking down to my mojito the second I said the word.
“That had to have been the most obligatory ‘fine’ I’ve ever heard,” she said. “And totally unbelievable. Seriously—how do you feel? It’s been a little while since the whole thing, and you’ve kind of started acting like it never happened.”
“Because that’s how I want to treat that particular disaster,” I said. “Like it was all some shitty dream.”
“That bad?” she asked.
I took a deep breath and looked away for a moment, letting my thoughts blend with the din of the crowd and the thumping house music, which I recognized as a track by none other than DJ Sean Ford, the bassist for Lover Boys.
“I mean, part of me is relieved,” I said. “Now that I’ve had some time to think about it, I don’t think I’d have been happy with George. In fact, I would’ve been miserable.”
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