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Roux sucked in her stomach while Raven tugged both ends of the ribbon at her back and cinched the black lace corset as tight as it would go.
“I guess I won’t be sitting down anytime soon,” Roux said, rubbing her hands over the red velvet stays along her sides as if the action would make it easier to breathe.
“Does that mean you’re going to lie down in the limo?” Raven asked.
Glancing over her shoulder, Roux rolled her eyes at her best friend and the band’s stylist. Raven also happened to be her foster sister. “I’ll be standing with my head out the sunroof. Obviously.”
Raven chuckled. “I’d better add a few more bobby pins to your wig, then. You wouldn’t want to surprise some unlucky driver behind us by shooting this black and red hairy beast into their windshield.”
Roux laughed, feeling a slight bit of ease for the first time that night, until she remembered why she would be riding in a limo in the first place. Breathe, Roux. Breathe.
Raven wrapped several strands of the underlayer of the wig around her fingers and arranged the long curls against Roux’s bare shoulders. Roux’s real hair was naturally red, but her trademark color in the band was a vibrant crimson. Each of the five women of Baroquen had a particular color for her costume and hair to offset the black goth dresses and makeup they wore in public. And with her name, she’d had to choose red as her color.
“You’re as gorgeous as you’re going to get,” Raven said, taking a step back to admire her work.
Roux struck a pose and then stuck out her tongue at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She scarcely recognized herself when she was in costume. Which meant when she was out of her dark and heavy makeup, no one would realize she was the keyboardist for an up-and-coming band that would soon go on tour with the most highly regarded metal band in existence. They were supposed to meet the members of Exodus End that evening and attend a party as their special guests, which was why all the women in her band were in full costume tonight even though they didn’t have a gig.
“Go put on your boots and practice breathing,” Raven advised. The petite black-haired goth/punk/emo designer genius gave Roux a little shove and then turned to Lily, who had her sleek black and white wig on backwards. Again.
“It’s shorter in the back than the front,” Raven explained to the frustrated drummer. Again.
“Not sure why I voted in favor of this stupid idea,” Lily complained as Raven removed the wig and spun it around before slipping it back down over Lily’s naturally pale blond hair. “No one can see me behind the drums anyway. I could wear jeans and a T-shirt.”
“You don’t like the costume I designed for you?” Raven asked, her lashes fluttering as she fought fake tears.
Roux smirked. She’d been Raven’s roommate since they’d been preteens, so Roux knew when Raven was laying on the bullshit. There was currently enough in the room to load a wagon.
Lily, on the other hand, had roomed with their lead singer, Iona, so the band’s little drumming sweetheart was susceptible to Raven’s ploys. Lily laid a hand on Raven’s slight shoulder and squeezed.
“Oh, Raven, your costumes are gorgeous. We’re so lucky to have you.”
“And don’t you forget it,” Raven said through a mouthful of bobby pins. She jabbed a few into Lily’s head to hold her wig in place.
Roux chuckled and slipped her foot into one of her lace-up, knee-high leather boots. The tongue was the same shade of red as her jagged-edged petticoat, her corset stays and the ribbon that laced it up her back, as well as the underlayer of her wig. Every other inch of her outfit was black lace except for the giant garnet stone at the center of her choker necklace.
“You don’t get to be comfortable if the rest of us have to suffer, Lil,” Roux said. “Besides, the fans will want to see those huge knockers of yours.”
“Bite me,” Lily said.
Roux chomped her teeth at the woman who would always be her big sister, even if they weren’t related by blood.
Lily adjusted said knockers inside her white corset. She had to tape those puppies in there when she played live to avoid jiggling out of her top, but her boobs should survive a party with Exodus End unseen unless she got drunk enough to dance and started air drumming. Then costume malfunctions were all but guaranteed.
“Are you guys ready?” Azura called from the adjoining hotel room. The door between the two suites was open, so it was almost like their overcrowded studio in the East Village where the six of them lived on top of each other.
“Lil put her wig on backwards,” Raven said.
Lily extended a hand toward the other suite and stomped her foot. “Azura is the one who helped me put the damned thing on in the first place.”
“You need a longer wig,” Azura said, coming into their suite. She was already dressed in her blue and black stage-persona gear, and her wig was waist length, so there was no chance she’d put it on backwards unless she were attempting a Cousin It look. “I can’t tell the front of yours from its back.”
“You and me both,” Lily muttered under her breath.
“You said the long one was too hot when you play,” Raven reminded her. “That’s why we switched to the short one.”
“The long one was a living hell, but this one isn’t much better. It’s like wearing an oven on my head.” Lily shook her head back and forth to send the longish white ends on either side of her face swaying.
“The black goes in back, white in front,” Raven said.
“Sounds like my kind of threesome,” Azura said, throwing up a peace sign.
Roux flushed at the very idea of a threesome. Her boots now laced up and tied in neat bows, she stood straight and tugged down the back of her skirt. The top lacy layers were fluffy, but short as hell. If she hadn’t been wearing a red silk petticoat under the skirt, her panties would have shown with every step, and her thong didn’t match her outfit. Raven would have been mortified to know Roux was going out in public in pink underwear. Raven abhorred pink. She also abhorred underwear unless they were her boyfriend’s boxers.
Perhaps Roux knew a little too much about her foster sister.
The landline rang in the adjoining suite. “The limo is downstairs!” Iona yelled a moment later. “Now is not the time to be fashionably late. Let’s move.”
“They’re not going to leave without us,” Sage said in the other room, her calm voice as serene as ever.
“A thousand bands would slit our throats to take our spot on this tour,” Iona said.
Roux covered her neck with one hand and grimaced. “I’m going to need a new necklace. One with steel reinforcements,” she whispered to Raven, who winked at her.
“I’ll get right on that. The keyboardist always dies first in these situations.”
Somehow Iona got them all headed in the right direction—ultimately for the limo, where they’d meet their tour mates for the first time. Heads turned as the ladies of Baroquen walked through the posh lobby of the hotel. The five of them looked like rock stars, even if none of them felt like rock stars. The band did have a large local following of dedicated fans, but this tour—to Europe and then around the world—would make or break them.
Roux’s stomach was already churning with nerves, but when her gaze landed on Sam Baily—Exodus End’s amazing manager, who had taken it upon himself to make stars out of the members of Baroquen—it took a dive for the floor. She instinctively reached for the bullet that dangled from a bracelet she always wore, drawing strength from the small chunk of metal.
Holy shit! This was really happening. They were going to meet the living legends that made up Exodus End. They were going on tour with them. To fucking Europe. Holy shit!
“Breathe, Roux,” Sage said, placing a calming hand on the center of Roux’s back.
Sage could tell that she was hyperventilating? Not good. Roux didn’t want to come across as an unprofessional idiot in front of the guys. Yet she wasn’t exactly a seasoned professional.
“It’s this damned corset.” Roux tugged at the bottom edge of the stiff garment, needing something on which to blame her sudden breathlessness.
“At least yours doesn’t have all these buckles,” Sage said, running her fingers over the row of buckles running down the center of her belly. “When I sit, they try to eviscerate me.”
“You’ll have to stand next to me in the limo with your head out the sunroof,” Roux said. And the driver behind them could deal with a black and green wig as well as her red one attacking their windshield. “I can’t sit worth a damn in this contraption.” Fortunately, she stood to play her keyboard. If she sat, as she did when playing piano, the corset would be a definite no-go.
“You all look gorgeous,” Sam said with a pleased smile, and Roux vowed to stop her complaining.
They were truly blessed by the opportunity Sam had given them by signing them to a new record deal and as an opening act for the real stars he represented. He looked every inch the high-profile band manager, from his highly polished alligator shoes to his immaculately styled dark hair graying at the temples. Even his smile was polished.
“The guys can’t wait to meet you.”
Yeah, right. Roux was certain the members of Exodus End had far better things to do than hang around with five nobodies all evening.
“Are they in the limo?” Sage asked, standing on tiptoe to peer out at the long, sleek car parked in front of the hotel none of them could afford. Sam was footing the bill for their extravagant accommodations.
“We’re picking them up from Madison Square Garden,” Sam said. “They should be offstage by the time we get there.”
Madison Square Garden. Roux’s fingers began to twitch with nervous energy. She couldn’t even fathom how amazing it would be to perform on that stage.
Iona climbed into the limo first. Being the lead singer gave her first dibs on everything. Or maybe she always went first because her color was purple and that made her think she was royalty. Yet if not for Iona and her unique way of getting noticed, none of them would be on tour with a retired bridge club from Hoboken much less on a world tour with Exodus End, so Roux didn’t cause a stink about not getting the window seat and settled in the middle between Lily and Azura, sitting so straight in her corset that she felt a foot taller than usual. Roux licked her lips, the taste of her black lipstick a foreign reminder that she was playing rock star for the rest of the night, and tried tromping down the nervous flutters churning in her belly. This was all moving so fast. Her life had gone from subdued to overwhelming within a month. She loved every damned minute of it.
Sam was talking to Iona about the after-party they were attending. Apparently, no expense had been spared. The tour had rented two floors of some artsy high-rise so that the co-headlining band, Sinners, could have an after-party of their own in the same building. Roux planned to attend both events, but she couldn’t focus on Sam’s words. She was too busy trying to sit still so her corset stays didn’t break a rib.
Outside the arena, Sam left them to wait in the car while he collected the members of Exodus End.
“While we wait, we should play fuck, marry, kill,” Iona said.
“For Exodus End?” Lily gasped.
That got Roux’s attention.
Iona chuckled and nodded, her dark eyebrows moving up and down. “You go first, Lil.”
“Um, okay.” Lily sat for a full minute wringing her hands. “I can’t. I can’t kill any of them.”
“But you’d fuck them all,” Roux said.
Lily slapped her. “I’m married!” And very happily so, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t play their little game.
“Let’s switch this up,” Azura said. “There are four of them, so let’s play suck, fuck, kiss, slap instead. Then no one has to die.”
“An angry slap or a playful one?” Sage asked, taking the game far too seriously.
“Whatever turns you on, Sage,” Roux said.
“So . . . angry then.” Azura elbowed Sage, her best friend and roomie, in the ribs.
“I’d slap Steve,” Lily said. “He’s so full of himself.”
“As are all drummers,” Iona said, teasing their drummer, Lily, who poked her in the belly.
“Jack isn’t full of himself,” Lily said.
Roux smiled at Lily’s defense of her husband, who also happened to be a drummer.
“I’m sorry, but no. Steve’s the hottest one,” Roux said, hoping to turn their attention back to the game. “I’d fuck him until I couldn’t move and save my slap for Max’s ass just so he’d slap mine back.”
Iona snorted and shook her head. “Steve, the hottest? Puh-lease. Max is the hottest. I’d kiss, suck, fuck, and slap him. Then fuck him again.”
“This game isn’t going as planned,” Sage said, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, which, if they hadn’t left Raven behind, would have made her freak out over Sage’s makeup.
“Yeah? Which one would you fuck?” Roux asked Sage.
Sage licked the lip she’d just nibbled. “Dare. Definitely Dare.”
“She’s always liked her men dark and quiet,” Azura said.
“I think I’d suck Dare,” Roux said. “Love to see that man come undone.”
“Love to see that man come period,” Sage said.
They all laughed, and Roux shuddered at the spectacular mental image.
“No takers on Logan?” Azura asked.
“He’s so damned cute,” Iona said. “I’d have to kiss him. Everywhere.”
“I don’t think anyone would angry-slap him,” Sage said. “Not with a smile like his.”
They were still hashing out their fantasies when the limo door opened.
“A good surprise?” Maximillian Richardson’s unmistakably deep and sexy voice asked from nearby. Even when he wasn’t singing, his voice messed with a woman’s ability to think rationally. Roux’s breath stalled in her throat. Max was just outside the door, she realized. And this wasn’t the wettest dream she’d ever had. It was really happening.
“The best I’ve found in over ten years,” Sam said.
Every woman in the car went instantly stiff. Their little game had been great for passing the time, but now they’d have to look the men in the eye and try not to think about the naughty things they wanted to do to each and every one of them.
Max poked his head into the car, his eyes scanning the interior. Exodus End’s lead singer was far more gorgeous in person than in any video or photo Roux had seen. He had dark hair cut in a short, trendy style, a strong jaw, and a mouth made for kissing. He was also built. And tall and gorgeous and . . . Roux wasn’t sure if he’d actually said anything before he disappeared from the open door.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Max said to someone outside.
“Nonsense,” Sam said.
Roux exchanged a worried glance with Lily. Exodus End didn’t want them there? It seemed the only explanation for Max’s words.
“Iona?” Sage leaned forward to send their fearless leader a questioning look.
Iona’s eyes were closed, so she didn’t see Sage’s concerned face, but she took a deep breath and plastered on a confident smile before sitting up straighter. “No one guaranteed this would be easy,” she said.
“Yeah,” Roux said, “but Sam didn’t mention we weren’t wanted.”
“I’m sure that’s not—”
Iona’s words were cut off when someone ducked their head into the car.
Roux was surprised it was a woman. Reagan Elliot—the amazing though temporary rhythm guitarist for Exodus End—looked them over carefully and offered a friendly smile. The brilliant guitarist had won some sort of talent contest to take over Max’s guitar playing while his wrist healed after surgery. Or something like that. Roux had read about her. A lot about her, actually. The cute rocker chick’s complicated love life was currently smeared all over the tabloids. Reagan nodded at them and pulled out of the car.
“Why do I feel like they’re trying to decide if we’re too gross to ride with?” Lily whispered.
Roux chuckled. “I don’t think it’s that. Seems they don’t like surprises.”
“We’re excellent surprises,” Iona said. “Fabulous. We’re the best surprises that ever waited in a stuffy limo outside Madison Square Garden.”
“Maybe you should take a cab.” Max again.
“You take a cab,” a man answered in a deep voice.
Roux almost swallowed her tongue when the sexiest man on legs—or off them—slid into the limo. Exodus End’s drummer had a reputation, but nothing had prepared Roux for meeting the man. He was tall and lean with muscles and bulges in all the right places and gorgeous chestnut brown hair that fell past his shoulders. There was something exotic about his heavy-lidded brown eyes as they scanned the interior of the limo.
Steve Aimes settled into the leather upholstery and grinned at the five of them as if he’d just opened the best birthday gift of his life.
“Right on,” he said, his deep voice sending shivers down Roux’s spine. “The hookers are already here.”
Hookers?