by Sara Mack
When Chris brings our drinks, he tells us they’re on the house. I surprised the drinks are free and accept mine with a grateful “thanks.” Dean thanks him as well before answering his vibrating phone. “Hey.” He takes a drink of his beer. “Yeah. Where are you?” He waits for their answer. “The Marriott by L.A. Live? We’re across the street, at the Yard House.” He sets his glass down and picks up a pen. “Sure. We just got here.” He signs his name. “Okay. See you in a few.” He hangs up.
“Expecting someone?” I take a sip of my drink.
“Just Heidi.”
I nearly choke. “Heidi? As in red-haired, bitch-face Heidi?”
Dean smirks. “Gunnar told me about your confrontation in his hallway. Did you not expect to see her on tour?”
I’d forgotten about that part of the conversation. “Does she know I’m here?”
“I didn’t tell her.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s none of her business who’s in my band.”
This ought to be interesting. “She’s going to be pissed when she finds out. You might lose a groupie.”
Dean shrugs. “It’s nice to have the girls around, but they’re not necessary. I let Heidi and her friends tag along because their reaction to the band stirs up interest. If she wants to play dirty, however, she can go. It makes no difference to me.”
“It might get dirty,” I warn him. “She hates me. I don’t know what I did but –”
“You stole my brother’s attention.” Dean talks as he autographs. “Heidi’s been after Gunnar since his voice changed. I think she thought the two of them would bond over Audrey’s death, but it didn’t happen. No matter how hard she tries, he doesn’t want her.”
I think about what he said. She does act like a spurned lover.
Dean continues. “You know why I call Gunnar my brother, right? I was a foster kid.”
“I know.” I smile. “Latson told me. He told me about his – your – mom, too. I’m sorry she’s sick.”
“You and me both.”
“Hey.” I feel a tap on my shoulder. “Can we get some of those pens over here?”
I grab a few and turn around to hand them to Drew. “Thanks,” he says. “Oh, and here’s a tip. The more you drink, the less you’ll feel the carpal tunnel.”
I laugh.
Dean and I continue to sign until the Eagles “Hotel California” comes on. He starts to sing and I join him, until footsteps and laughter interrupt our duet. I look up to see Heidi and her entourage approaching. They’re wearing tight, skimpy outfits with little strappy tank tops and heels. Heidi’s all big smiles and swaying hips until she sees me. Her eyes narrow and her walk slows, yet she makes it to our table. She looks down and picks up one of the band posters.
“What the hell?” she hisses and turns to Dean. “Please explain why this bitch is here.”
“I think it’s obvious.” Dean remains nonchalant. “She’s in my band.”
“Since when?”
“Since I asked her.”
“She has no talent!”
“Says who?”
“Says me!”
I pick up my glass and take a drink. This is entertaining.
“You must not have ears,” Paul says from behind me. “She’s fucking talented. And, hey, by the way, long time, no see.”
Heidi shoots him an evil glare. “You didn’t call me, remember?”
My eyebrows shoot up.
Heidi turns her attention back to Dean. “I didn’t sign up to watch her on stage.”
“Then look past her and at me,” Drew says over my head. “I’ll be the one behind the drums.”
“Or,” Paul stands, “you could not show up at all. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings any.”
Heidi scowls and focuses on me. “You’ve got them all wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?”
I shrug. I refuse to get riled up. Instead, I grab a Sharpie and remove the cap. I sign another poster and ask, “Should I make this one out to Heidi or do you prefer another name?”
She slams her hand down on the table and leans into my space. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“I’m sorry. I guess I don’t. Do you want me to sign your hand instead?” I move quickly, getting a J and an E on her skin before she yanks her hand away.
“You …” she seethes. She points at me and looks at Dean. “I’m not putting up with this!”
“No one said you had to.” Dean raises his glass. “Why don’t you take a seat and relax. Jen won’t talk to you if you don’t talk to her. Right, Jen?”
I nod.
“Ugh!” Heidi huffs and stomps off to an empty table. One of her girlfriends follows her, while the other three remain by us.
“Wow.” A nameless woman steps forward. “Hi. I’m Brooke.” She extends her hand to Dean. “I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot. I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m super excited to hear you guys play. So are Kate and Lisa.” She looks over her shoulder at the other two girls.
Dean shakes her hand. “That’s good to hear. Are you familiar with our music?”
Brooke blushes. “Um, no. Not really. Heidi just said she was following a band and we could come along. Maybe meet the guys and help out and ... I don’t know. Have fun, I guess.”
“Well, ladies, you’ve come to the right place.” Paul grins and pulls over two empty chairs. “You’re more than welcome to join us.” He looks around. “I don’t see another empty seat. One of you will have to sit on my lap.”
One of the girls, Kate or Lisa, I’m not sure who, happily volunteers. Jesus, I think. So it begins. I’ve yet to see any “rock star” behavior out of any of the guys; I suppose it had to start sometime. As Paul plays Bad Santa, I roll my eyes and go back to what I was doing. I silently wonder how interesting things will get once we’re out on the road. I have no idea how big the tour bus is. Should I invest in sound-proof headphones?
“Don’t worry about Heidi,” Dean interrupts my thoughts.
“Do I look worried?”
“I don’t know. You’re making some kind of face.”
I laugh. “I’m just thinking, that’s all.”
“About?”
I glance back at Paul, Drew, and the girls. Their flirting makes me miss Latson. Not that I haven’t missed him every day, but this kind of throws it in my face.
“Hellooo,” Dean says. “What are you thinking about?”
I sigh. “That there’s only one lap I’d like to sit on.”
Dean gives me a knowing smile. “You guys will be together before you know it.”
“You promise?”
“Promise.”
~~~~
“God, I wish you were here.”
I stare at my reflection in the dressing room mirror as I hold my phone to my ear. I’m trying to remain calm, but we go on for the first time ever in about an hour.
“You’re going to be fine,” Latson reassures me through my cell. “I know it. I can feel it from two time zones away.”
I let out a heavy breath and blow my side bangs off my face. Mona, our stylist, intricately curled my hair to the left, since I decided to grow a zit on that side of my forehead. I know it’s from stress, but come on. Did it have to show up on opening night?
“Take a picture of yourself and send it to me,” Latson says. “I want to see you before L.A. does.”
“Okay. Hang on.” I put his call on hold and do as he asks using the mirror. I send the picture as a text message and then go back to the call. “Done,” I say.
It takes a minute before he receives it. “You look amazing,” he says. “Where’s the sign that says your mine?”
I laugh. “It will be spelled out in lights over my head on stage.”
I have to admit that Mona did a great job despite my new friend Zitty McZit. She gave me cat eyes with thick, black liner, and she made my lips look pouty with two shades of lipstick and some sort of gloss. My cheeks look perfectly pink, and the clothes she picked
out are cute ankle boots, tight jeans, and a sheer white peasant blouse. I’m wearing a black mid-riff tank underneath it, and my hair falls in waves down my back.
“I miss you,” I say. “I could use a kiss for encouragement right about now.”
“If I was there to kiss you I wouldn’t stop. You’d be late for the show.”
“I’d be willing to risk it.”
Dean gags from behind me. My tone must give me away. “Are you two getting all mushy? We’re taking good care of her, G!” He yells so Latson can hear.
“Tell Dean to worry about himself,” he says.
A guy wearing a headset knocks on the open door. “D.U.? You have five minutes until meet and greet.”
“Thanks,” Dean says.
I meet his eyes. “D.U.?”
“It’s short for the band name. It’s easier.”
“Oh.”
“Still learning the ropes?” Latson asks.
“Yeah. They don’t give all the secret codes to the new kids.”
Roxanne comes speeding around the corner. “Why are you all still in here? Meet and greet. Now. Walk.”
“Gotta go,” I say to Latson as I hop off the stool. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it,” he says, “but break a leg anyway.”
I fall in line behind Rox, Dean, Paul, and Drew. We make a few turns down a couple of hallways before we’re led into a small conference room. There are no tables or chairs, just a group of about twenty people wearing lanyards and holding stuff like cameras and papers. Roxanne stops us before we get too close.
“These are the VIP people who paid extra for close seats. They get to meet you now and Ariel after the show. So be nice, smile, and sign whatever it is they want you to sign.”
We nod and she releases us. The guys wave and greet the fans like the pros they are, while I do my best to fit in. A few cameras flash and Dean’s name is shouted before Roxanne and another attendant start to let people forward. The first two ladies look like sisters and wear huge grins as they ask Dean to sign t-shirts. They each pose for a picture with him and then make their way down the line. We each sign their shirts and they want pictures with all of us, which surprises me. I mean, who am I? They haven’t even heard me play.
At the end of the session I meet a girl who came to see the show with her mother. She looks about twelve years old and asks me to sign her backstage pass.
“Sure. What’s your name?”
“Amanda.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Amanda.” I sign my name next to the words “Renegade Tour.” “Are you excited to see Ariel later?”
She nods. “And you, too.”
“Me? No one knows me.”
She blushes. “I didn’t know girls could play in rock bands. I always thought they had to be pop singers.”
“Oh, no,” I say. “Girls can be band members. They can play any instrument they want.”
“What do you play?”
“The guitar.”
“That’s cool.” She looks at her pass I just signed and smiles. “Thanks. I haven’t heard any of your music yet, but I’m sure I’ll like it.”
“I hope so,” I say as her mother asks us to stand together for a picture.
We finish the meet and greet with time to spare since not everyone who purchased a VIP ticket showed up. Roxanne explained some people buy the tickets just to meet the headliner, but she hopes that will change the longer we’re on tour.
“You have half an hour before show time,” she announces. “Make the best of it.”
Without consulting the guys, I decide to go back to the dressing room to busy my hands. I need something to pass the time to keep my mind off what I’m about to do. Even though I’m using another guitar on stage courtesy of the label, I brought my own with me tonight to keep me sane. It’s comforting to hold something familiar before doing something that’s the exact opposite.
I’m almost to the room when the same guy wearing the headset from earlier stops me. “Are you Jen Elliott?”
“Yes.”
“There’s someone waiting for you in your dressing room.”
Immediately my thoughts jump to Latson. “Thank you.” I grin and pick up my pace. Maybe he was lying when he said he was two time zones away. When I make it to the room, I expect to see him standing there with his lopsided smile and open arms. Instead, who I see stops me dead in my tracks.
“So.” Ariel Allyn flips her hair over one shoulder. “You’re the one dating my ex.”
Chapter Twenty
“Uh …” I stutter. I’m flustered by the famous celebrity pop star standing in front of me.
“You know,” she turns toward the mirror and checks her bright red lipstick, “Gunnar’s phone call surprised me. I didn’t think he’d keep my number.”
Wait. “Latson called you?”
She nods and turns to me, then pulls at the top of her strapless leather bustier. In fact, her entire outfit is leather. She’s got the body to pull it off, too. She reminds me of Anne Hathaway when she played Catwoman, but without the mask and ears.
“I don’t know who thought this was a good idea,” she says as she adjusts her chest. “I’ve got more double-stick tape going on than 3M.”
I suppress a laugh as her eyes comb over me.
“I’m jealous,” she continues. “You don’t have to worry about flashing an arena.”
“True.” I take a few steps toward her. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t find a way to embarrass myself.”
She gives me half a smile and starts to back away from me. “Well, you’ve made it this far. You must’ve done a few things right.” She turns around and reaches for a guitar case propped against the wall. I don’t remember seeing it before.
“Whose is that?”
“Yours,” she says before placing it in my hands. “It was delivered to me with strict instructions to make sure it got safely to you.”
I’m confused. I take the case from her and set it on the vanity in front of the mirrors. Popping the latches, I open the lid to a familiar sight.
“No way,” I breathe as I stare at the Fender. It’s Latson’s. The same guitar he let me play the night of Dean’s show. There’s a folded piece of notebook paper tucked in the strings, and I wiggle it free.
So we can be on stage together.
She’s yours now. I know you’ll take good care of her.
You’ve got this, Little Bird. Knock ‘em dead.
– Latson
I’m speechless. His gift is unexpected and over the top. Slowly, I run my fingers over the strings.
“Do you like it?” Ariel asks.
“Very much.”
“Then it looks like my job here is done. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”
“Thank you.” I meet her eyes. “You didn’t have to be Latson’s delivery service.”
She smiles. “He thought if he sent it to Dean you might accidentally see it and ruin the surprise.”
“I don’t ruin surprises,” Dean’s voice sounds as he enters the room. “Ariel. How in the hell are ya?”
She opens her arms wide and squeals. “C’mere! I need hugs!”
Dean wraps her tiny frame in his big arms. “Thank you so much for this. We’ll make you look good, I promise.”
“No worries. When that Australian boy band canceled I knew who I wanted to open for me.” She steps out of his embrace and hangs on to his hands. “I’m so glad you’re here! It’s almost like old times.”
As the two of them reconnect, Paul appears by my side with his bass. “Hey. You want me to help you tune that thing?” His eyes dart to the Fender.
“Yeah.” I lift it out of the case. I swear the air around me changes the moment I slide the strap over my head. I position my fingers on the strings and Paul strums an E. With his tone as a reference, I strum the same note and then adjust the tuner. We go through all six strings and play the beginning of our opening number for good measure.
“Sounds good,�
� Ariel says. “I’ll be watching you guys.” She starts to leave, but stops. “Oh, and I’ll see you after the show. You’re coming, right? Never mind. I just made it mandatory. I’m at the Ritz. In the penthouse.” She gives us two thumbs up before disappearing out the door.
“After party?” I ask the guys.
Drew stops doing push-ups and wags his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah.”
Why is he on the floor? “What are you doing?”
“Pre-show ritual,” he huffs. “Gotta get the blood flowing.”
Good to know.
I run my hand over the smooth face of my new guitar before I decide to give Latson a call. I want to let him know I got his gift. It’s unbelievable, and he shouldn’t have done it. I no more than tap his name on the phone when headset guy returns for a third time. He must get exhausted running back and forth all night.
“D.U. The stage is ready when you are.”
I swallow and hang up.
“Okay.” Dean looks at us. “Ready?”
Drew gets to his feet, and Paul slams the last of his Red Bull. They both walk toward Dean, so I do the same. We end up standing in a circle, and Dean puts his fist in the middle. Paul follows suit and so does Drew. I place my fist in last. It looks small next to the others.
“Tonight is the beginning of something I thought I’d never see,” Dean says. “I wasn’t sure I’d set foot on a tour again, let alone one this big. You all made that possible. We’ve put in the hours and we’ve practiced our asses off. Now, there’s only one thing left to do.” He looks each one of us in the eye. “Go out there and kill it.”
“Hell yeah!” Paul pumps his fist in the air.
“Kill it!” Drew does the same.
“Let’s do this!” Dean says with the most excitement I’ve ever seen from him. He high-fives me, and then we file out the door.