Limelight (NSB Book 4)

by Alyson Santos

  I draw her in for another kiss. A long one this time so she knows this is where she belongs.

  “You want the truth? Jonas rang me and said you were committed to turning things around.”

  “And you believed that? I screwed it up before.”

  Her gaze becomes serious. “I believed him.” She sucks in a breath. “The man loves you, Jess. Like it or not.”

  Her words strike hard.

  “I know,” I say finally.

  “Do you?”

  I nod, and our mood lifts with her sudden grin.

  “Then you should also know that I’m leaking the ‘Jonas’ footage tonight. By tomorrow morning Limelight will have blown up the internet again.”

  26: SMOTHER

  “Jerky?” Derrick swings the package in an arc over the back of the seat.

  “No, man, we’re good,” I say. Mila shakes her head when he slides it over to her side of the seat.

  “No thanks, love.”

  Derrick snickers. “Love. Heh. She’s so British,” he tells no one.

  A smile tickles my lips, then flares into an all-out grin at her expression.

  Don’t encourage him, her look warns.

  It’s killing her that we’re only halfway through the eleven-hour drive to Smother and we have no more band business to discuss. She’s already recapped, summarized, and picked apart every one of the torrent of industry responses to our now-viral “Jonas” video. We’ve discussed the plan, venue, and crowd at Smother so many times, even Derrick is crystal clear on the highlights. We’ve even reviewed, one-by-one, each of the many requests for shows, interviews, and appearances, including SauerStreet’s apologetic bid. Mila handled the thanks-but-no-thanks rejection of their offer.

  Now my high-energy, go-getter girl is stuck in a van with five laidback dudes who are perfectly content trying to identify various likenesses in slices of beef jerky.

  “Hey, Jay! Who’s this?” Derrick holds up a large chunk so his friend can see it from the seat two feet away.

  “I dunno. Kinda looks like a strip of dried beef, dude.”

  “No, Mrs. Hall! Remember? From sixth grade?”

  Parker and Reece exchange a glance from the front seats, and I hold in my snicker. He drives you insane, but we can’t imagine not having the guy around. Life is so simple for him. I would benefit from studying the Derrick Rivers manual for human existence.

  “Eh, look at this,” Mila says. She twists up in my arms and slants her screen toward me.

  “Seamless is sweetening the pot?”

  She nods. “That’s a pretty good offer.”

  “What about Seamless?” Parker calls back. The dude has rabbit ears when it comes to shit he cares about.

  “Seamless sent another deal,” I say.

  “You think Dad had anything to do with that?”

  I shrug. “Why? You ready to do elevator rock now?”

  He throws a dirty look to the back of the van, and I grin in response.

  “I was thinking we should do another new one besides ‘Jonas’ tonight,” Parker says. “Thoughts?”

  Which in Parker-speak means if you disagree you better have a damn good reason.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask.

  “How about ‘Agitator’?”

  “Ooh, yes. This crowd will love that one,” Mila says.

  “Okay.” The word no sooner slips out of my mouth than the entire van zeros-in on me. Even Reece peers in the mirror from the driver’s seat. “What?” I ask.

  Parker clears his throat. “Nothing. I mean, that’s great. I’ll pencil it into the set.”

  “You never agree to anything without a fight,” Derrick says, much less tactfully.

  A collective cringe registers from front to back. Of course. It’s eggshells and tiptoes around the unpredictable Jesse Everett powder keg. I have some epic friends and bandmates to still be here after everything I’ve put them through.

  “I love you guys,” I blurt out, and now the stares shadow with concern. “I’m serious! It’s way past time I tell you that.”

  Derrick, who’s closest, leans even further over the edge of the seat. Is he staring into my eyes? Oh my god.

  “I’m not high, loser,” I say, shoving him back to his zone.

  He shrugs, and relieved chuckles drift from the front seats.

  “You all are impossible,” I mutter, settling back into the cushion.

  “Hey, Jess,” Parker calls out. “We love you too, man. Good to have you back.”

  ∞∞∞

  Now, this is a club. We know the second we pull up to Smother that we’re about to have an experience for the ages. A reverent hush falls over us at the approach of a man who must be the owner—when he’s not modeling for underwear commercials. Damn, if I were a chick… I’d react just like Derrick.

  “Oh my god,” he whisper-shrieks to me. “He’s so hot!”

  I smack his chest. “He’s married, dude.”

  “Leon, good to see you again, love,” Mila says, taking his hand and initiating two posh cheek brushes.

  “You too. We’re really looking forward to this. Arriane has gone all out for Limelight Night. I’ll introduce you and she’ll take it from there.”

  “Great.” Mila turns and waves us after her.

  “We sure about this?” Parker mumbles to me.

  “Playing a club?” I ask.

  “Becoming superstars.”

  I glance over and exchange the smile with my brother we’ve been waiting over twenty years to share. God, I love that man, and at the risk of turning all Derrick on him, I swallow the emotion and focus instead on taking in more of the venue.

  The club is even more impressive on the inside. A DJ booth overlooks a nice-sized dance floor, and the space has obviously been reorganized to accommodate a large platform.

  “Looks like you’ll have room for both basses,” I quip to Reece.

  He’s too excited to take the bait, and huddles with Parker and Jay to discuss logistics instead. I check for Derrick, but he’s already off exploring the sick-looking patio bar. A beautiful woman by the main bar directs employees with a calm authority, making it obvious who runs the show at Smother.

  “Arriane,” Leon calls over, and she turns with a breath-taking smile. On her approach, we catch a glimpse of a little human following shyly behind her. The kid is a devastating mix of his parents, and there’s no doubt he’ll be breaking hearts in twenty years.

  “We’re so happy to have you. Welcome to Smother,” Arriane says, shaking each of our hands.

  “Thanks for hosting us. I’m Jesse.” I point to the others. “Parker, Reece, Derrick, and Jay who will be running front of house.”

  She nods. “You said you’d be bringing your own audio equipment, correct?”

  “Yes,” Mila says. “Hiya, I’m Mila. Nice to finally meet you.” The women exchange greetings, clearly evaluating, then approving of each other. We’d be a mess without Mila, and I suspect Limelight Night would not be happening without Arriane. I relax knowing they’re in charge.

  “As we said, the night sold out quickly. We’ll be at capacity, but we’ve rearranged some things to better accommodate the crowd. Would you like to taste the signature Limelight Margarita for tonight?”

  “Hell yeah!” Derrick cries.

  “Later,” Mila warns him. “Please just show us where to set up, and we’ll get started.”

  “Great.” Arriane turns and waves at a ripped dude behind the bar. “Christian, can you come over here a minute?”

  The guy slings the rag he’d been using over his shoulder and approaches with a confident smile. “Christian runs the bar and helps manage things around here. If you need anything at all tonight, he’s your man.”

  “Good to meet you,” he says. “Get me a list of your drinks, and I’ll be sure to keep you stocked.”

  “Thanks, man,” Parker says.

  He nods.

  “Oh my god!”

  Our ears bleed from the loudest s
hriek in the history of sound. We turn toward the wail to find an adorable blonde-haired pixie who couldn’t possibly have projected such volume. The guy behind her snickers as he tries to hold her back.

  “It’s Limelight! They’re, like, supernovas!”

  “Superstars, Inga.”

  “Whatever. A nova is a star.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “Ahh!” She tears away from her captor and bolts across the room toward us. “I’m Ingela,” she announces. “Inga. Yes, call me Inga. I love you guys! When Arriane said you were coming I lost my shin!”

  “Your shit,” the guy mutters, approaching behind her. “You lost your shit.”

  She shoots an annoyed look to her (boyfriend?), and crosses her arms. “Shut up, Cameron. You’re just jealous because I said I’d leave you for Jesse. Didn’t I?” She stares right at me. “I did. I would.”

  “You would not,” Cameron grunts.

  Her glare melts into affection as she throws herself into his arms with a thud. He lets out an oomph and barely catches her. “You’re right. You’re my eleven-incher. But I’d do both of you. You always wanted a threesome, right, baby?”

  My night just got very interesting, apparently, and I haven’t said a word. Mila’s gaze creeps over my face as I maintain oblivion. I’d crawl through a pit of poisonous spiders before reacting to that offer.

  “Thank you for your support, Inga, but if you don’t mind we have a lot of setup to do,” Mila says like the professional she is. Also, no threesomes with my boyfriend, thank you. That look is for me, and I shrug with a grin. Not sure how I’m in trouble for a conversation I’m not even in.

  “Inga, Cam, please finish setting up the patio.” Arriane points her employees toward the glass door. “Sorry about that,” she mutters to us. “You will love them by the end of the night, I promise. Okay, again, if you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask myself, Leon, or any of the staff. While you’re setting up, I’ll check on the refreshments and make sure your green room is ready.”

  I glance at the guys and their faces mirror mine. Yep, it’s good to feel like rock stars again.

  ∞∞∞

  The night lives up to the hype. The lights, the haze, Jay blasting us through the stratosphere, it’s no wonder the crowd is going ape-shit for our music; I’m a freaking animal in this cloud.

  Everything about this moment is right, and it’s not the present but the future that has me wound to a new notch of energy. We could do this every day. We’re on the doorstep of dreams, and the best part? I’m here for completion, not escape. Running to, not from, makes all the difference as I pull the mic from the stand and yank the crowd into my ecstasy.

  “My reaction time is lacking

  No backtracking now that you’ve got me on the prowl

  Hey hey

  I’m looking at you, traitor, faker, promise-breaker,

  Re-arranger of the lies we’ve tried to bury

  Hey hey”

  Voices rise up in unison to lyrics they can’t possibly know but feel the urge to sing anyway. Bodies rock together with my words, the bass pumping EDM waves beneath adrenaline-fueled drops from the track. At the last one, a cheer erupts with the lights when the music jumps back to life. Damn, even I have chills.

  This college club crowd is the perfect vessel for our music, and I know Mila will be gloating plenty. She’s up in the booth now, grabbing as much bootleg footage as she can. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s planted pros throughout the room for some real film.

  This is the magic musicians talk about. I never thought it could be mine, but here we are: sweat dripping down our faces, music blaring through a veil of exhilaration so pungent we’ve all been transported to a higher plane. This is the moment where life, legend, and love combine into an irresistible mantle of hope.

  It’s happening.

  Lights flash blues, whites, and yellows.

  It’s actually happening!

  My eyes connect with Parker who returns a grin that tells me everything. We’ve made it, bro. After a lifetime of fighting through the darkness, we’ve finally pushed through into the light. Parker and Jesse, two names that are more than case files and entries in the foster system. More than hungry children and forgotten youth. This is what life feels like. This is what joy feels like. I want this, my reason to fight.

  Parker launches into the intro of “Agitator,” and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m excited for tomorrow.

  ∞∞∞

  The green room Leon and Arriane set up for us is great, but we find ourselves gravitating toward the main area of the club after the guests go home. How could we possibly hide in a back room with the vibrant personalities floating around Smother? We have a blast with the staff who seem more intent on drawing out the party than clearing it.

  Parker and I chill on barstools watching that chick Inga tear up the dancefloor to a phantom song in her head. Her boyfriend is helping with the makeshift stage when he’s beckoned to the floor by her ear-splitting demand to “get his groovy on!”

  Even Leon cringes and interrupts his conversation with Mila to shoot an irritated look in her direction. Arriane points Cameron to the dance floor, probably to keep his girl under control more than anything.

  The entire circus is beyond entertaining.

  “You know, if the music thing doesn’t work out, I’d take a job here,” I say, swallowing a mouthful of club soda and lime. As delicious as those bottles of tequila look, I don’t trust myself yet, and Christian has stayed true to his word and kept us well hydrated—me with seltzer—all night.

  “Think they have space for two employees?” Parker asks. “You’re not leaving the band without me.”

  “Better make that three,” I say, pointing to the dance floor where Derrick has another employee attached to his hip. “We can’t expect him to fend for himself.”

  “What about Reece?”

  “Gina has him covered, right?”

  We exchange a smirk and relax into the moment. The night was perfect. The club, the vibe, the crowd, everything was exactly what we needed to boost our current hype. Once Mila edits and posts the footage, we’ll have our pick of futures, she says.

  My heart swells at the gift of this moment. I’m right where I’m supposed to be with the people who matter. With the three of us together, there’s no chance in hell we won’t find our way.

  “We did it, bro,” I say quietly. “No matter what happens next, we already did it.”

  He turns and flashes the joy he’s always deserved. How many times have I stripped it away from him, and he still stood there, tall, alone, against the storm? God, I stole so much from the one person who gave me everything.

  And yet he’s the one who says, “I’m proud of you, man. Proud of us. We did this. Jesse and Parker. Life tried to break us and we kicked its ass.”

  I smile back. “We did. Ready to make history?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  I hold up my glass. “To kicking life’s ass.”

  He clinks it with his bottle. “To kicking life’s ass.”

  ∞∞∞

  Mila hasn’t stopped talking since we walked out of the club, rode in the van, checked into our hotel, and found our rooms. She’s bursting with details about this PR company, that blogger, this label, and that promoter. She already has us doing stadium tours on the moon, and I’m too turned on by the excitement on her face to dash it with a hit of Jesse Everett Realism.

  She’s the best kind of dreamer. Intelligent, driven, and connected, her dreams are goals, not fantasies, and if my alabaster queen has us going platinum by this time next year, who am I to argue? What I can’t tolerate is the amount of clothes she has on.

  “I’ve already sent a message to my contact at—”

  The rest comes out muffled against my lips. I back her into the closed door of our room.

  “Can you be my girlfriend for a few hours? Just a few.” I grab her perfect ass and shove her i
nto me. She gasps out a surprised moan, and I love that it takes so little for me to distract her.

  “Jess, I have to…” She full-on whimpers as I hike that tantalizing dress up her thighs for better access.

  “What’s that, babe? I missed that.”

  “Shush your mush,” she breathes.

  I pull back and snort a laugh. “What?” My grin earns me a playful slap. “Shush your what?”

  “Mush! Argh. You heard me, you arse.”

  “I thought I was a wanker?” I try for the accent and cover my face to block the blows.

  “Tosser. Dickwad. Prick. Twat!”

  I lock her wrists to stop the assault, and she erupts in giggles as I pull her onto the bed.

  “How about fit as fuck?” I tease, securing her on top of me.

  Her nose wrinkles as she shoves my shoulders, then softens into intoxicating alignment with my body. “I prefer lover,” she says, singeing my lips with a hungry kiss.

  A groan rumbles from my own throat. This woman… “Okay, you win. Claim your prize.” I pull off my shirt with a playful smirk.

  “Arse,” she mutters again, and shoves me back to the mattress.

  ∞∞∞

  I stare at the passing cars, trees, all the interesting things that fly by a back window when you’re in a van going 70mph. Mila is still “updating” us on the upcoming everything she’s booked in the last twenty-four hours. That woman can get more done over a continental breakfast than I accomplish in a decade. I have no clue what she sees in my lazy ass—besides the fact that it’s fit as fuck.

  Thing is, I’m happy. Yeah, I said it. I’m freaking content.

  “What’s so funny?” she inserts mid-sentence into whatever news I was ignoring.

  I glance over, making no attempt to hide my smile. “Nothing.”

  “Not nothing. You’re grinning.”

  “Can’t a guy be happy?”

  Her eyes narrow into a skeptical appraisal. “Not you. What is it?”

  “Seriously, Mila. I wouldn’t push it,” Parker calls back. “He’s probably thinking about your boobs.”