by Vi Keeland
My sister rolls her eyes, but smiles and greets her best friend as I haul Laney up into my arms and spin her around in the air. “Squirt! You made it.”
She squeals when I toss her around. I seriously hope she’s never too cool for this shit. Because it’s better than any medicine or high I’ve ever sought to relieve my pain.
I throw Laney’s backpack over one shoulder and carry her in one arm to greet my sister. “How was your flight?” I lean down and peck her on the cheek.
“Good. Except I think the airline might ban us. Laney talked the entire flight. To the flight attendants, the guy next to her, the people in the row behind us, in front of us.”
“Nah. I think you’re good. If they banned people for excessive talking, Alana would have been grounded years ago.”
Alana smacks my abs.
“By the way, she told everyone on the plane that her uncle was a rockstar and she was on her way to see him. I’m not sure if half the people believed her, but the teenagers a few rows up knew your name and asked if you would be at the airport.”
As if on cue, two teenage girls hesitantly walk up to us and ask for my autograph. By the time Becca and Laney’s bags pop out of the carousel, we’ve got a pretty good crowd around us. We’ll have to teach Laney about discretion some day.
Normally when I travel for gigs, I take the cheapest room. Most times, I’m out partying until the sunrise anyway, so I never saw the point of wasting money on a room I was just going to crash in for a few hours. But this time, I booked a two-bedroom suite for the few nights we’d be in Austin, so me and Laney could hang and my sister and Alana could have enough space to throw their clothes all over the floor and still walk.
Becca puts Laney down for a nap, which I’m thinking is a kick-ass idea as I eye the spot next to her little body on the king-size bed. But Alana begs me to go to the pool with her. After my over-indulgence last night, I’m not in the mood for the scorching Texas sun beating down on my head, but she’s never going to shut up if I don’t go along. So I give in sooner rather than later despite my headache, hoping to catch some Zs on a lounger at least.
I open the gate to the pool area for Alana to walk through first and follow behind her, slipping on my sunglasses and already feeling the blaze of the afternoon sun on my back.
“How’s this?” Alana asks, pointing to two open cushioned lounge chairs.
“Fine. Whatever you want,” I say, looking down. My phone just pinged with a text from Nolan. I respond and look back up just as Alana lifts her cover-up over her head. Damn. I shake my head. What a shame.
I tug the shirt off my back and set myself up on the lounger next to her. It’s only when I’m settled in that I look across the pool and see her. And him. Dylan is out cold and Lucky has sunglasses on that hide her eyes. Yet I can tell from her face that she sees me. Sees us. I offer a slight nod, which she returns, and then I set my seat all the way back so I’m lying flat. There’s no doubt where my eyes would be if I were sitting up.
“Flynn. Can you get my back with the sunscreen?” Alana waited until I settled in, of course.
“Lie on your back and you won’t need it.”
“If I lie on my back I won’t fall asleep. Which means I’ll need to keep talking to you.”
I groan. And get up. The sunscreen soaks into her skin almost as soon as I rub it on, so it doesn’t take me very long to cover her back.
“Can you do my butt?”
“If you didn’t wear half a freaking bathing suit, you wouldn’t need to put sunscreen on your ass. Seriously, half your ass cheeks are hanging out.”
“Shut up and get your hands on my butt. You know you’ve wanted to touch it for fifteen years anyway,” she teases, jiggling her butt cheeks.
Normally, I’d savor the opportunity to lather up a woman’s ass sticking out of a tiny bikini bottom. But this is Alana. It’s a great ass, but after so many years, it amounts to rubbing lotion on my sister’s.
“Done,” I announce. “Anything else before I lie down?”
She turns over. “Actually. Could we go in the pool? I’m hot.”
“You just made me rub lotion on your ass. Now you want to go for a swim?”
She unfolds from her chair and grabs my hands, pulling me to stand. “You are one pain in the ass,” I say.
“But you love me anyway. Come on. I’ll tell you all about my new job.”
Duct tape. There is not enough duct tape.
We spend the next half hour in the pool. My dark sunglasses conveniently conceal my eyes as they drift back to Lucky every few minutes. Fuck, she’s beautiful. She has to know I’m watching her, even if she can’t see my eyes. Although Alana doesn’t even seem to notice…she’s too busy babbling on about some guy at her new job.
I grit my teeth when Dylan rolls onto his side, then leans over and kisses Lucky’s belly. It’s one thing to know they’re together, a completely different thing to have to watch any intimacy between the two of them. Pool time is definitely over. I need to get the hell out of here. “This sun is kicking my ass. What do you say we get a drink at the bar and head back upstairs?”
“Can I get a lemonadey drink?”
“You can have whatever you want.”
Unfortunately, I’m not the only one opting to leave the oven for cooler pastures. Dylan and Lucky pass by as we’re packing up. “Catching some rays, Beckham?” Dylan says to me, but his eyes are all over Alana. Forget that he has no idea who Alana is to me, he’s standing right next to his girlfriend. The asshole has no respect.
“Yep. Packing it in. Just about to head back up to our room.” The statement doesn’t seem odd until I see Lucky’s face. It looks like mine did when I saw Ryder put his fucking lips on her stomach.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Alana says. I completely forgot that meeting Dylan Ryder would impress anyone.
“Alana. This is Dylan and his girlfriend, Lucky.” The words taste bitter.
“Nice to meet you,” Alana says with stars in her eyes.
“You too.” Dylan grins, enjoying the adulation.
“I can’t wait to see the show tonight. I love Easy Ryder.”
“Well, make sure Flynn gives you an all-access pass.”
Alana smiles. “Okay. He pretty much gives me whatever I want or I use my secret weapon on him.” She takes my arm, then leans in like she’s telling them a secret and winks. “My mouth.”
I almost choke. Totally Alana. She meant it innocently enough—I’ll do anything just so she’ll shut up. But Dylan’s eyebrow-jump and dirty grin tell me how it was received was definitely not as she intended. As does the scowl on Lucky’s face.
Perhaps a little of her own medicine doesn’t taste so good.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lucky
This afternoon Dylan and I had yet another fight. The poolside playtime with Flynn and his new friend left me in a mood I couldn’t seem to shake. I was relieved when Dylan didn’t try to come with me to the airport. Traveling with him makes everything into a production, and I really just want some alone time with Avery.
After two hours of delays, I finally have my best friend. We walk to the waiting car with her two bags in tow. Two bags…for a two-night trip.
“What the hell did you bring?”
“Clothes.”
“We’re in Texas in summer, it’s not like it’s sweater season. You really couldn’t fit everything in one bag?”
“I brought some extra outfits for you.”
“For me? Why?”
“To cheer you up.”
“But I’m not depressed.” Well. Maybe a little. But that’s a story I can’t get into now as we sit in the back of a car being driven by security. Dylan’s security.
“What did you have for breakfast?”
“Breakfast?”
“Yes, breakfast.”
“A chocolate chip muffin and coffee. Oh. And maybe a few pieces of bacon.”
“Did you sleep until after seven?”
“Yes. I slept in for a change. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“This morning’s sonnet. What was it titled?”
“‘Ruin.’”
“That’s what I thought.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re depressed. When you’re down, you eat, get up late and write depressing poetry.” She shrugs like it’s a known fact.
“I do not.” Then I think about it. “Do I?”
Avery’s look says duh, even though she doesn’t.
“But even if that’s all true, how did you know that all the way from New York?”
“The sighing.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You have this little sigh at the end of your sentences when you’re depressed. It’s like talking is an effort. You sighed on the phone when you called to confirm my flight info last night.”
“You’re absolutely insane, you know that?” A barely there sigh comes out after my last word. Oh my god.
Avery arches an eyebrow and grins. “A glass of wine while I get to pick out what you wear tonight. Then you can spill your guts when we get home. If you spill them before, you won’t want to go out.”
“Thanks, Dr. Phil.”
“No problem.” She ends her response with an over-pronounced, intentional sigh.
The Easy Ryder show is sold out again and the VIP section is filled with corporate sponsors in suits. Avery and I forgo our five-hundred-dollar reserved accommodations in favor of the cheap seats on the floor. Even though Avery isn’t a fan of Dylan Ryder, there’s no denying she loves their music. Together we dance around and sing along with the crowd.
I try to focus on the music and enjoy my time with Avery, ignoring the man standing on the right side of the stage, but it’s virtually impossible when it’s time for him to take the microphone.
Flynn has the women swooning before he even sings the first note. A woman screams something obscene and rushes past security to throw underwear on the stage. They land at Flynn’s feet and he looks down with almost an embarrassed grin and shakes his head with a flirty half smile. Absolutely charming.
“Lord, that man is delectable,” Avery says. “How the hell have you been traveling on a bus with him and not jumped his bones?”
I stare up at the stage. Flynn is absorbed in the song, eyes shut; the sound that flows from him seems to come from somewhere even deeper tonight. The words more soulful, more achingly beautiful as he sings Linc’s song about losing the girl he loves. Tears fill my eyes. He’s absolutely hypnotizing.
As the song ends, I notice they’ve changed the transition back to Dylan. Rather than a hard finish, which gives the crowd a chance to applaud, the set seamlessly moves from Flynn’s solo performance right into Dylan’s next song. When the spotlight leaves Flynn, there’s an ache in my chest at the loss.
“Oh my god. You fucked him!” Avery screams. I turn and find my friend’s eyes flashing shock, her face filled with excitement.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Luciana Valentine.”
Oh geez. She’s channeling my father.
“It’s…complicated.”
She claps her hands and jumps up and down. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The truth is, I wanted to tell Avery. But I’m embarrassed at how I’ve acted. She’s my best friend. I’m pretty sure if I committed murder, she’d grab a shovel instead of judging me. Yet I kept putting off this conversation because I knew what would happen after she buried the body. We’d talk about it. And she’d push me to figure out why I did what I did and make sense of it. Keeping my head in the sand wouldn’t be possible anymore. “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t ready to talk about it while it was happening.”
“Was? As in it’s not anymore?”
I shake my head and a tear rolls down my cheek.
“Oh, honey.” Avery wraps her hand around my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go backstage and have a drink.”
The concert is less than half over, which makes getting through security a breeze compared to the line of women who will be vying for backstage access at the end of the show. Behind the scenes is quiet—most people are stage-side, watching the show, or in the VIP area. I’m surprised to find anyone in the lounge. Two women are seated at the bar. My stomach drops when I catch a glimpse of one of them. Flynn’s poolside plaything from today.
“Hey. From the pool today, right?” she asks with a friendly smile. She’s stunning, and it makes me feel insecure—something I pride myself on not being.
I nod.
“Dylan Ryder’s girlfriend,” the woman explains to her friend. “Flynn and I saw them down at the pool today.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Flynn’s sister, Rebecca.”
“Really? You’re Laney’s mom?”
The woman cocks her head. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Flynn talks about her all the time.”
She smiles. “Yep. That would be my brother. Had his heart stolen the day she was born. This is my friend, Alana. She lives here in Austin. Laney and I flew in last night to visit and watch the show.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Lucky, and this is Avery.”
“Lucky? The voice coach?”
“That’s me.” I pause. “But how did you know I was a voice coach?”
She smiles. “I hope you don’t find this inappropriate, but I’m pretty sure my brother has it bad for you.”
Avery pipes in from next to me, “I’m pretty sure the feeling is reciprocal.”
My eyes flare. I look at Alana. “He doesn’t. I’m sorry.”
She shrugs. “Why are you sorry?”
“Aren’t you two…?”
“Me and Flynn?” She crinkles her nose. “Gross. No. Why would you think that?”
“I saw you at the pool together today. And you said…”
She looks at me funny. “What did I say?”
“You said you could get him to do anything. With your…mouth.”
“By talking his ear off. He’ll do anything to shut me up. What did you think I meant?”
The heat rises in my face. Becca, who is mid-sip, actually spits her drink out all over the place. “Oh my god!” She laughs. “We need a drink and a do-over, ladies.”
Something about the ridiculousness of our conversation and the warmth that Becca radiates makes the stress ease, and all four of us have a good laugh. Along with a shot or two. A little while later, it feels like the four of us have been friends for years. Watching Becca and Alana is like looking in a mirror at Avery and me.
The roar of the audience suddenly grows louder and the endless music quiets. “Sounds like the show is ending. What do you say the four of us go have a girls’ night out?” Alana asks.
“We’re in.” Avery jumps up, leaving me no choice. Not that I would have declined. It’s actually exactly what I need.
The four of us are toasting to our newfound friendship, and one for the road, when Flynn walks in. He takes one look at our new little posse and actually looks a little scared.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Flynn
You don’t need to have ever been in a hurricane to know to run the other way when you see one coming. I walk into the lounge area backstage after the show and four women are smiling, holding up shot glasses in a toast. My sister, Avery, Alana and Lucky.
From the looks of things, it’s not the first toast of the evening. They slam back the clear liquid in their shot glasses, make faces like they just smelled a rotten case of morning breath and turn around to see me.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite brother,” Becca says. Of course, I’m her only brother. But my mother didn’t raise a fool. Now is not the time to point that out.
“Ladies,” I say apprehensively.
Avery stands. “Hi there, Flynn. We’re going to go out dancing.” She motions to the four ladies. “With our new friends. Want to join us?” There’s a gleam in her eye.
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“Ummm. Think I’ll pass.”
Alana kisses my cheek. “Good choice.”
Becca takes her purse off the bar. “We were going to find a karaoke bar. But seeing how I’ve had my fill of karaoke lately, we thought we’d try something different.” My sister walks to me, kisses my cheek and then grins. “Did you know my new friends Lucky and Avery own a karaoke bar?”
I shake my head. One by one, they walk out the door. The last to leave is Lucky. “Love your sister. Have a good night.”
It’s almost four in the morning when I hear the hotel room door open and the sound of female giggling. Laney spent the night at Alana’s mom’s house, so there was no reason for Bec to make it an early night. I’m actually glad she had a night out for a change. Although curiosity has kept me awake for the last few hours, seeing as with whom my sister was spending the evening getting acquainted.
The door to my bedroom creaks open slowly. It’s dark, but a shadow comes toward the bed. I push up on my elbows. “Everything okay?”
The voice that answers is not my sister’s. “Can I sleep in here with you tonight?”
“Lucky,” I warn.
“I know you’re mad at me. Yesterday morning, I didn’t…when I went into the bedroom with Dylan, we…”
“I really don’t want to hear about it.”
“We didn’t. I couldn’t. Nothing happened.”
“Why not? You were certainly in the mood when you were with me.”
“I couldn’t…because I felt like I was cheating. On you.”
The bed dips and she crawls into bed with me, slipping under the covers. “We’ll stay dressed. I just want to sleep with you.”
“How much did you drink?”
“Not enough to make me stop thinking about you.”