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The day of Baroquen’s first concert had finally arrived. Roux was glad she’d managed to catch a few hours of sleep after punishing her naughty lover for most of the night. The man had been tough to break, but by the end she’d had him yelling “I’m coming” every time she touched him. Still naked, she peeked out the hotel window. The overcast sky didn’t match her current sunny disposition, so she jerked the curtain closed and went to rouse Steve.
He looked so at peace lying sprawled across the bed on his stomach, one arm dangling off the edge of the mattress and the other angled over his head. The covers were tangled around his upper thighs but didn’t hinder her appreciative appraisal of his perfect tan backside. Why was his ass tan anyway? Did he sunbathe in the nude? He must. There was no other explanation.
She needed to get back to her room and get ready for the day, but once she was in costume, she wouldn’t be able to interact much with Steve. He’d taken their pretend disdain for each other a bit too far the day before, but she understood that he didn’t want Tamara to catch wind of their relationship. No telling where the reporter would take that golden nugget of information. Maybe it would be easier to come clean and get this all out into the open. How bad could it be? Plenty of famous people flaunted their romances on the Internet, and people loved it. But there were also those who were relentlessly ridiculed for the same.
She was more worried about pissing off Iona than suffering through whatever public opinion she’d have to endure when the story broke. She didn’t much care what people she didn’t know thought of her, but she did care that it would upset her big sister. She leaned over the bed and kissed Steve’s forehead. He didn’t even twitch.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” she murmured. “I need to leave, but I’m craving one of your toe-curling kisses before I go.”
She shrieked when his arm shot out and caught her around the waist, tumbling her onto the bed and pulling her beneath him. He kissed her deeply, curling her toes as requested. After a moment, he lifted his head and smiled sleepily down at her. His hair curtained their faces in silken waves. Damn, he was gorgeous. She got all fluttery and flustered just looking at him.
“I’m craving far more than a kiss,” he murmured, and she squirmed to spread her legs. She hoped the more he craved involved deep penetration; she was already wet for him. He kissed his way down her body, stopping along his journey to suck a nipple, nibble her navel, delve into her cleft with his tongue. He spread her legs wide and muttered, “Breakfast of champions.”
Her body jerked as his tongue gathered her fluids. He licked and suckled her clit until she found release, and then replaced his mouth with his fingers, rubbing her to prolong her orgasm as he guided his cock inside her with his free hand. He kept her coming as he pounded into her, pulling her higher, to a new level. She couldn’t help but cry out as her body responded to his touch, his thrusts. Was it possible to have a clitoral and vaginal orgasm at the same time? Dear God, the man knew exactly how to get her off. Her pussy gripped him in hard spasms, quickly pulling him over the edge with her. He shook as he spent himself within her, and then, breathing hard, he collapsed on top of her.
“Well, that was a glorious wake-up call,” he murmured, kissing her ear. “I’ll be sure to ask the front desk for another one of those tomorrow.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tightly, so full of love and laughter she felt like she could fly. “I love you, Steven Aimes.”
“I love you, Katie Roux.” He patted her flank. “Now you’d better get your ass up. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.”
“I wish you could spend it with me.”
“I could,” he said. “It’s your stupid rules preventing that, not mine.”
“I know. I’m going to talk to Iona. See if she’s willing to bend those rules.” Especially since it had been obvious at dinner the night before that she and Kyle were more than professional acquaintances.
“Why do you do what Iona says at the expense of your own happiness?”
“Because I’m happiest when those I love are happy.”
Steve smiled and brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Well, you must be the happiest woman on the planet when you’re with me, because I’m deliriously happy when I’m with you.”
She grinned. “Why do you think I can’t keep away from you?”
“Because I have a big dick.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay. Can’t get enough of that enormous dick. That’s totally it.” She kissed him and then squirmed off the bed. “I can stay with you again tonight, though, right?”
“I won’t be able to sleep without you beside me.”
“Are you sure? Last night I was certain you wanted me to sleep on the floor.”
“I’ll work on that.”
She’d heard that before.
A knock sounded on the door. “Wake-up call. Ten minutes to gym.” Roux was pretty sure the voice shouting from the corridor belonged to Butch.
“I’ll be there!” Steve yelled. He kissed Roux before climbing out of bed. “It was nice while it lasted.”
Roux followed him to the bathroom. “What was nice?”
“Butch minus his schedule clipboard.”
When Steve stepped up to the toilet to pee, Roux backed out to offer him some privacy.
“Got to get my piss break in now, or I’m shit out of luck,” he said. “Actually, I should probably take a shit too. I don’t think you want to witness that.”
“I’m leaving,” Roux said. “I love you.”
“Love you too. See you tonight. I’ll be the obnoxious fan in the mosh pit at your performance. Wouldn’t miss it.”
Her stomach took a nose dive as reality grabbed her by the throat. Today was the day that the world got its first real taste of Baroquen. “I’ll be sure to catch yours as well,” she said.
“We’re on tomorrow. But we can see Sinners together tonight. If you want to.”
“Of course I want to. I love Sinners.”
She shuffled into her shoes and headed for the door. The second she stepped into the corridor, a flash went off in her face.
“Ah, the mystery woman returns,” Tamara said, falling into step with Roux as she speed-walked in the direction of the elevator. “Are you a local? Are things between you and Steve serious? How long have you been spending the night with him?”
Roux kept her eyes down and her lips sealed. When Tamara followed her onto the elevator, she pushed the button for the lobby instead of her original destination. No way was she going to her hotel room to get ready for the day with an obnoxious paparazza tail clinging to her ass.
“I’d have thought you were just another one of his endless string of willing vaginas, but spending the night twice in a row?” Tamara’s eyebrows rose toward her burgundy-colored hairline. “There’s something between the two of you. What’s your name?”
Roux considered telling her that she was Katie Williams, but feared even that was too much information. The nosy reporter was going to figure this out. It was one thing to try to keep a curious bystander in the dark and quite another to fool a member of the press and keep her from figuring out the connection between Katie and Roux. Fuck! The elevator door opened to the lobby, and Roux was greeted by the smell of the complimentary breakfast offered by the hotel. Well, at least she had a good excuse to be here. Still refusing to give Tamara a direct stare, Roux headed for the breakfast room. Her bandmates were already inside, laughing together at a nearby table in full costume. Iona saw her first—good thing, because she was quick to notice details. A flicker of recognition crossed her face, but was quickly replaced with an impartial mask as her gaze settled on the woman still following Roux.
“I wonder what’s taking Roux so long,” Iona said as Roux grabbed a plate from the end of the breakfast bar. There was no way to get breakfast without passing close to her sisters’ table. Azura, who was sitting to Iona’s left, jumped suddenly and rubbed at her shin beneath the table.
She scowled at Iona, who was eyeing Roux sidelong. Luckily, Tamara was too focused on making a nuisance of herself to notice the table of rock chicks struggling to make excuses for their absent band member. After all, there were plenty of more famous, and therefore more interesting, musicians scattered around the dining room.
Roux scooped eggs onto a plate, bypassed all the processed meat products, including something she feared was the blood pudding stuff she’d heard they ate in England—gag!—and opted for toast, yogurt, and a plethora of fresh fruit. She glanced around for an empty table and cringed when Logan waved at her excitedly. Toni pulled out the chair beside her in welcome. Shit. Now what should she do? She shook her head slightly, giving a subtle nod in Tamara’s direction, and scanned the overcrowded dining room hoping to locate an empty table so she could eat in relative obscurity.
She knew the exact moment that Logan recognized she was being followed by Tamara. His cute and normally friendly face darkened with rage. He approached them so fast that Roux cringed and almost dropped her plate.
“Get the fuck out of here,” he said to Tamara. “Stop harassing Katie.”
Well, at least he had remembered to call her Katie, but now Tamara knew for sure that she had a deeper connection to Exodus End other than being some nameless pussy that Steve had enjoyed two nights in a row.
“I have a pass,” Tamara said, flashing a plastic tag that was dangling from around her neck. “You know her?”
Logan’s fury was replaced with hesitation. He obviously wasn’t sure what he should say. Toni took Roux’s elbow. “I saved a seat for you,” she said to Roux. “Did you want some juice? I’ll get you a glass. Sometimes assistants need a little assistance themselves.”
Assistant? Roux wasn’t sure where Toni was going with this, but she said in her poor attempt at a British accent, “Cranberry juice would be lovely, darling.”
Darling? What was she doing? She sounded like an idiot. She hurried over to the table that Logan and Toni were sharing with Dare—who looked mostly asleep this morning—and sat down.
“Why did you bring the witch down here with you?” Dare grumbled into his cup of black coffee. “It was bad enough having her in my face the moment I emerged from my room this morning.”
“Sorry,” Roux said. “She followed me. I’m not sure how to handle this.”
“I’ll give you the same advice I give my brother. Own who you are. If people can’t handle it, that’s their problem, not yours.”
“It’s not that I’m ashamed or anything. My band doesn’t want anyone to think we’re on tour with you guys because I’m . . .” She noticed that Tamara was within hearing range and dropped the conversation, focusing instead on her fruit salad.
Dare scowled over his shoulder. Roux adored Dare and his quiet introspection, but Tamara put him in such a bad mood that Roux was relieved when he made his excuse to leave.
“Logan, I’m heading to the gym before Butch gets his panties in a twist about us fucking up his schedule. Are you coming?”
“Yeah, I’d better.” To Tamara he said, “In case it isn’t clear, you’re not welcome here.” He kissed Toni quickly before following Dare out of the dining room.
Toni deposited a glass of cranberry juice next to Roux’s plate and sat back in her spot across from her.
“I never knew Steve needed an assistant.” Tamara sneered at Roux, apparently unable to comprehend what Logan meant by she wasn’t welcome. “What are you assisting him with exactly? His hard-ons?”
Well, technically, yes, Roux did help him with those. “He’s uh . . . working on a project.” Her fake accent was more Australian than British this time. Damn . . .
Tamara stepped closer to the table. “What kind of project?”
“A good one.”
“You know it’s none of your business, Susan,” Toni said. Susan? Wasn’t the woman’s name Tamara? “Go bother someone else.”
“And how do you know Katie, Toni?”
She saw me topless and screwing Steve on the beach at Dick Island, Roux thought wryly. I didn’t exactly make a good first impression. She wondered if Toni now knew that she was a member of Baroquen or if she disliked Tamara so much that she was willing to breakfast with the woman she thought was Steve’s current favorite groupie.
“She’s a friend,” Toni said.
“Everyone knows you don’t have any friends, An-toni-a.”
Toni lowered her gaze. Roux got the feeling that the animosity between the two women was not new. “Maybe. At least I’m not a raving bitch.”
Tamara chuckled. “Better a bitch than a doormat.”
“Get lost, will you?” Roux said, not wanting to join in on an insult-throwing match, though she had a few for the obnoxious woman who was harassing Toni. “There is no interesting story here.”
“I disagree, but I already have an interesting story about Steve. You aren’t the only woman he had in his bed yesterday.” She smirked before waving smugly and venturing out of the breakfast area.
“God, I hate her,” Toni said, pushing her glasses up her nose with the back of her wrist. “I didn’t think I was capable of hating anyone, but I guess I’m not as good a person as I thought I was.”
“I don’t think it’s possible to like her. She’s completely insufferable.” Roux speared a piece of melon with her fork and popped it into her mouth, trying not to let herself dwell on the lie Tamara had just spewed about Steve’s bedmates. He obviously hadn’t had anyone else in his bed the day before. Roux had been with him most of the day. Though she had found him passed out naked. Alone. But naked.
“Try having her as your boss.” Toni groaned and curved inward, both arms wrapped around her narrow waist.
“Is that how you know her?” she asked, continuing to munch her fruit salad.
“She worked for my mom’s company as an editor. She was supposed to be the one writing the book about Exodus End that I’m working on, but luckily I talked my mom into sending me in her place. That’s why Susan hates me. I screwed up all her plans. Somehow she managed to get close to the band anyway.”
“Why do you call her Susan? I thought her name was Tamara.” Though Roux couldn’t criticize anyone for using an alias, considering she now went by Katie in certain circles. Including this one with Toni.
“She was Susan when she worked for my mom; I think she didn’t want Exodus End to realize who she really was. But she was Steve’s sister-in-law, for crying out loud.” Toni rolled her eyes and pulled the wrapper off a muffin before breaking off a piece. “Yeah, she’d lost a lot of weight since they last saw her, but just how stupid does she think he is?” She popped the bite of muffin into her mouth.
“Steve’s actually very smart,” Roux said, unable to stop herself from defending her man. “Except when he drinks. Then he’s a fucking idiot.” She laughed and opened her yogurt, stirring the fruit up from the bottom with a spoon.
Someone bumped into the back of Roux’s chair, and startled, she glanced up to find her sisters standing there.
“Oh, sorry,” Iona said, not sounding sorry in the least. “I was just in a hurry to get to the shuttle bus and wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“Roux better hurry up,” Sage said pointedly, “or we’re going to have to leave without her.”
“Keyboardists!” Azura rolled her eyes as she passed the table. “No consideration for anyone.”
“I’m sure she has a good reason for keeping us waiting,” Lily said.
That was Roux’s cue to get off her ass and change into her stage costume. She excused herself from the table, dropping her dirty dishes into a bin, and scoped out the lobby for signs of Tamara. After determining she wouldn’t be followed again, she headed to the elevator.
As soon as she knocked on the door to her own room, Raven opened it wide and yanked her inside.
“Azura texted and told me you had the press following you around this morning.” She was already trying to tug off Roux’s shirt before the door had even shut.
“Yeah, it sucked.” Roux kicked her shoes off. “I didn’t want the snoop to follow me to our room, so I had to go down to the lobby to get breakfast as a diversion.” She jerked off her pants and stepped into the black satin and lace dress that Raven was holding out for her. “Then Logan starts waving at me and I thought for sure I was sunk, but Toni told her that I’m Steve’s assistant, so the reporter sort of backed off.”
“Oh, what a tangled web . . .” Raven adjusted Roux’s breasts in her bodice and grabbed the corset off the bed. Raven laced the corset up Roux’s back while Roux rubbed foundation into her face.
“I’m sorry to keep doing this to you,” Roux said.
“I like the excitement,” Raven said. She fit the nylon cap over Roux’s hair, tucking in stray locks, before taking her long black and red wig off the foam head on the dresser and placing it on Roux’s head. “I feel like the pit crew at a racetrack.”
Roux laced up her boots and put on her jewelry while Raven worked on the rest of Roux’s makeup. She was halfway out the door when Raven called, “Wait. You forgot your petticoat.”
A few costume adjustments later, Roux was racing for the elevator. Her sisters looked happy to see her when she reached the lobby.
“Did you oversleep again?” Iona chastised her.
“Sorry.” Roux released an exaggerated sigh. “My damn narcolepsy strikes at the worst possible times.”
“I hope you grabbed a snack. You don’t have time for breakfast,” Azura said, her sly grin telling Roux that she was actually enjoying the farce.
“I’m good. Thanks,” Roux said. “When will the shuttle be here?”
“We missed the first one,” Lily said. “But another will be along shortly.”
“I’m sorry I made us late.” Would she have to give up her nights with Steve? All because that stupid reporter wouldn’t leave them alone? Was it really asking too much that she could have her time with Steve and keep up appearances with her band as well? The plan had gone so smoothly in her head.
The camping sites and outer festival grounds were already crowded, even though the main gates didn’t open for another hour. Baroquen wasn’t playing until later that afternoon, but they all wanted to experience as much of the atmosphere as possible. Well, Iona mostly wanted to network, but that was easy enough to do when dozens of bands were congregated.
“I had a dream last night that only four people showed up for our set,” Sage said as they meandered through the parked tour buses.
“Did they throw buckets of piss at us?” Azura asked.
“No, they liked us,” Sage said. “But there were only four of them.”
“That makes four more UK fans than we had before the show.” Azura patted Sage’s shoulder just beneath the lower curved edge of her black and green wig.
No one knew who Baroquen was over here. They didn’t have many fans in the US either, but in Europe they were completely unknown. What if Sage’s dream turned out to be a prophecy? What if no one showed up?
Some musician stumbled out of a tour bus, nearly knocking Iona on her ass. She greeted him and smiled but was entirely ignored. Maybe it was just too early for him to be friendly. Roux was too amped up to be jet-lagged, but not every traveler was chipper in the morning.
Iona watched the guy walk away as if she didn’t exist. “Maybe instead of trying to rub elbows with our better-known peers we should be rounding up some fans.”
“Like out there?” Sage pointed toward the main gate, which wasn’t visible from their current position.
“It’s where the really important people are,” Iona said.
“Do you think that’s wise?” Lily asked. “Jack said I should be careful. These festivals can quickly get out of hand.”
“We’ll be fine,” Iona said. “And I’m sure Sam would approve. He’s always talking about how important it is to get a loyal fan base. How better to gain loyalty than by meeting potential fans one-on-one?”
Roux had to admit Sam was right, but she wasn’t sure that the door-to-door-salesman approach was their best bet. “You don’t think that will make us seem desperate?”
“We are desperate,” Iona said. “This won’t be like our arena shows opening for Exodus End. We have to draw our own crowd. We can’t depend on them to do it for us.”
“It reminds me of our basement gig days,” Azura said. “How many flyers did we have to hand out to get thirty people in the door?”
“So many trees were sacrificed,” Sage said.
“But once we got those thirty there and showed them a good time, they told their friends and we had to pass out fewer and fewer flyers until we didn’t have to pass out any. Eventually we had to turn people away.”
“But we don’t have any flyers,” Roux pointed out.
“I have an idea,” Iona said. From the bodice of her dress, she pulled out a pack of multicolored permanent markers. “Don’t judge. I was hoping someone would ask for my autograph.”
Roux laughed but didn’t refuse the red marker that Iona handed her. “What are these for?”
“Turning people into flyers,” she said. “If they’ll let us.”
It was a long walk to the main gates, which were set to open in less than half an hour. Eager attendees were standing in line waiting to enter the concert area. Those at the front of the line were the most eager and the most bored—they’d been waiting a long time. Iona—who didn’t have a shy bone in her body—walked right up to a young couple who were watching their approach with interest.
“I know you’ve never heard of us,” Iona said, “but we’re hoping you’ll come see us at three this afternoon on the second stage.”
“Who are you?” the man asked.
“Baroquen.”
“What now?”
“Baroquen. B-A-R . . . Here, let me write it on your arm.”
And the guy actually extended his arm over the barrier. Security was watching closely, but they didn’t intervene. Iona took the cap off her purple marker and wrote Baroquen across his forearm, with the time and place beneath.
“Are you like their roadies or something?” he asked, staring down at his walking billboard of a forearm.
“No, we’re in the band. We’re opening for Exodus End this summer, but we’re new, so—”
“Exodus End! Have you met them?” The guy’s eyes were wide as he glanced from one member of Baroquen to the next. Roux wondered how excited he’d be if he knew how truly close she’d become to one member of the band.
“Yes. They’re great guys. Very supportive of newbies like us. We hope we can count on your support as well.”
“If Exodus End supports you, count me in.” He grabbed the arm of the woman with him and pulled it over the barrier. “Do hers too. And like, maybe autograph it or something.”
Iona grinned like she’d just won the lottery and signed her much practiced autograph on the guy’s arm.
Azura stepped forward to mark the woman’s arm with their band name, and the time and location of their performance. Naturally, she wrote the message in blue, which matched her costume and undertones of her wig. A few men behind the couple leaned in to see what was going on.
“They’re a new band from America,” their first new fan told the men. “Opening for Exodus End this summer.”
“Are they any good?”
Someone in line had already downloaded one of their songs onto their phone and played it for nearby spectators. Roux couldn’t believe that Iona’s crazy plan was working. Well, unless they hated their music. Then they were sunk.
“That sounds pretty badass,” some guy said. “A mix of Black Veil Brides, Marilyn Manson, and Nine Inch Nails.”
Uh, okay. If he said so.
“And every member of the band is a hot chick?” another man asked. “I’m so there. Write on my arm!”
Roux was closest to him, so she uncapped her marker and wrote their flyer message on his arm. “Are you the guitarist?” he asked.
“Keyboards,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by the marker cap she held between her teeth. She placed it on the top of her marker, seeing as it looked like everyone in line now wanted a forearm message. “Azura and Sage are the guitarists.” She nodded in their direction. “The blue and green ones.”
“I want them to autograph my arm too. Their dueling guitar solo is lit.”
Lit? Was that a good thing?
That guy’s trend quickly caught on. Everyone wanted not one autograph beneath their flyer message, but one in every color. The gates opened, and people behind the initial entrants stopped to see what was going on. Not everyone was interested in being marked, but enough people were, and most of them insisted on hearing a sample of music before they agreed to being written on with permanent markers. The best part was that once a skeptical person was introduced to Baroquen’s unique sound, they always wanted to be included.
“Ahh,” Iona said, writing her purple messages and autographs much more rapidly than in the beginning. “I don’t care what any drug addict says. This is the best kind of buzz.”
Roux grinned, once again recognizing that her sister was a publicity wizard.
The fans were surprisingly well-behaved. They didn’t shove other attendees or try to grope her or have anything to say but positive things. A lot of them were already drunk—at noon—but not unruly. Maybe British drunks were less offensive than American drunks. Or maybe the insanity didn’t start until the sun went down. After a while, their new potential fans started insisting on posing for pictures with their billboard arms, and once those started hitting social media, Baroquen was sought out at the main gates by people who’d been planning to stay in the campgrounds until later. Like the flyer situation, they had only needed that initial seed of excitement to grow a forest of new admirers.
“We’re going to have to leave now,” Lily said, signing in black marker, since white wasn’t an option. “We have to be on stage in an hour.”
An hour? How had over two hours flown by so quickly? Roux glanced up from the arm she was writing on between a sea of colorful tattoos and smiled at the middle-aged rocker it belonged to. “You’re my last one,” she said. “I have to go perform now. You’ll be there in the crowd cheering me on, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll bring all my blokes.”
“Perfect. We really appreciate your support.”
Someone grabbed Roux’s wrist and tugged her backwards. She felt a moment of panic, thinking that she was being accosted by an overzealous concert-goer, before realizing it was just Lily trying to get her to move. Those who’d been waiting to be marked were none too happy to be left without Baroquen and five colorful autographs written on their person.
“We’ll come hang out with you after the show,” Iona promised, her eyes glazed with excitement.
Security had to step in so they could pass and make their way to the backstage area. Roux was surprised to find Steve waiting for her in the wings. “I thought you might miss your first performance and that would be a shame. Will you look at the size of that crowd?”
Roux peeked over the stage and went instantly light-headed. Their publicity stunt had worked a bit too well. The area was swamped with an ocean of eager faces. Many of them held their arms proudly in the air, showing off the messages they’d scored from the band.
“Max will be wanting pointers from you ladies,” Steve said with a chuckle. He extended his arm toward her. “Where’s my mark?”
“Seriously?”
“I’m your biggest fan. I want in on this.”
She grinned up at him—loving him a little more every second—and uncapped the marker she was still carrying. It was running low on ink, but she was able to pen the band name and her signature boldly on his arm and even added the event time and place, even though he obviously already had that information. “Knock ’em dead, Roux, who I’m not allowed to kiss right now.” He lifted his fist, knuckles pointed toward her and said, “So I’ll have to fist bump you instead.” She tried to hide her disappointment over not getting that kiss but tapped her knuckles against his. “Consider that the deep, passionate kiss I’m thinking of.”
She giggled. It wasn’t quite the same.
“One with lots of tongue,” he added in a near whisper. “I’m talking tonsil involvement. And of course, I’m squeezing your ass.”
“Of course,” she said, laughing. She knocked her knuckles against his again.
“Easy there,” he said. “You wouldn’t want to get me too worked up in front of all these people.”
Who, luckily, weren’t paying them much attention.
“Look who I found wandering around the hotel looking lost,” Raven said. She hadn’t ridden to the grounds on the shuttle bus with them, but Roux was happy she showed up to offer her support.
Zach stepped out from behind Raven, and Steve crushed him in a huge bear hug. “About time you got here,” Steve said.
“The limo I was expecting to pick me up from the airport never showed.”
Steve snorted. “Those are reserved for real rock stars.”
“Don’t feel bad,” Roux said, offering Zach a much more subdued hug than Steve had given him. “We didn’t get limo service either.”
“I guess I’m in good company then. Better than being a limos-only snob like this real rock star.”
Zach lifted his knuckles and tapped them against Roux’s. Steve immediately grabbed him in a headlock. “Watch that tonsil kissing, mister. Only I get to grab her ass like that.”
Roux burst out laughing at Raven’s confused expression.
“Did you get a new tattoo?” Zach asked, eyeing the forearm smashed against his face.
Steve released his friend and showed him his arm. “These brilliant ladies went to the gates and wrote their band name and the time and place of their performance on the forearms of fans.”
Roux rolled her eyes. “They weren’t our fans. No one had ever heard of us.”
Steve pointed to the crowd beyond the stage, which had grown even larger since she’d last checked. “I think that’s about to change.”
“Fucking hell,” Raven said, pressing trembling fingers to her cheeks. “Look at them all.”
“I’d rather not,” Roux said, taking a deep breath. “I feel sick.”
“You’ll do fine.” Steve squeezed her shoulder. “All that rehearsing will kick in as soon as you start to play. It’s muscle memory. Like riding a bike.”
He’d never once told her that all that rehearsing that Iona insisted upon was unnecessary. She supposed this was why.
“And time will fly by so fast, you’ll scarcely remember any of it,” Zach added. “Will you write your message on me too?” He held his arm out to her. “I want to be a part of this.”
She felt kind of bad as she wrote Baroquen 3 p.m. Second Stage across Zach’s arm. He was supposed to be in her shoes right now. The older festival flyers still had Twisted Element listed in the slot. She capped her marker and gave him a tight hug.
“I totally get why Steve thinks the world of you,” she said.
His arms tightened around her. “Likewise.”
“I’d better bother the rest of the band for their autographs so I don’t rouse suspicion,” Steve said. “People will wonder if I have a thing for the red one.”
He tapped Iona on the shoulder. When he presented his forearm to her, she lit up with excitement and scrambled to locate her purple marker.
He’s so great, Roux thought. I want to show him off to the world.
But she shouldn’t. She had recently witnessed the power Exodus End’s name had over people. She doubted that first concert attendee would have even allowed Iona to write on him if she hadn’t mentioned that they were opening for Exodus End this summer. So why was it okay for Iona to name-drop, but not okay for Roux to proudly show that she was in love with Steve? It wasn’t the same, Roux realized, as she watched Steve get his marks from Azura and Sage at the same time. Name-dropping about who they were opening for was not the same as name-dropping about who she slept with.
“So I’m supposed to get written on by all five of you?” Zach asked. He was watching Raven fix Lily’s wig, which was inexplicably on backwards again.
“It’s the cool thing to do,” Roux said.
“I’m glad he found you,” Zach said, still not looking at her. “He’s like his old self again. A little less fun, I must admit, but a whole hell of a lot happier.”
“He’s still fun,” Roux insisted.
Zach snorted and laughed. “Yeah, okay, by your standards, I’m sure he is.”
“Holy fucking shit!” Steve yelled. “It’s really you.”
Apparently Steve had discovered Jack Tanner hanging out with Lily.
Before Roux could respond to Zach, his eyes widened and he said, “Is that who I think it is?”
“The Fallen’s Jack Tanner?” Roux couldn’t stop smiling at Steve, who was jerking Jack’s arm out of its socket as he simultaneously shook his hand and pounded him on the shoulder. “Yep, that’s him.”
“Holy fucking shit!” Zach shouted as he dashed over to join the other three drummers.
Dare and Reagan had come to wish them luck while Roux had been distracted. They were in some serious discussion about guitar riffs with Azura and Sage. Iona and Max were also bonding, probably over how to make band members behave rather than over their vocals. Once again, the keyboardist was left on the sidelines.
“Why do you look depressed?” Raven said.
“A stupid reason.” She fiddled with her bracelet, longing to join Steve just so she could squeeze the bullet he was still borrowing. Maybe it was time to ask for it back.
“Is it because you’re excluding yourself again?”
“I’m not . . .” She was. It was a vice of her more introverted nature. Because she wasn’t likely to force her company on anyone, she expected people to approach her and include her.
She didn’t have time to dwell on that tendency because someone called curtain, and the five members of Baroquen flocked together like terrified sheep. One of her sisters grabbed her hand, and she took someone else’s in her other hand, until they were all involved in a pretzel of hand holding.
“Let’s make Mama proud,” Azura said.
“Ramona!” they shouted in unison before separating to take their places onstage.
Don’t trip, don’t trip, don’t trip, Roux repeated to herself, her gaze focused on her keyboard, which was set up on a platform on the far side of the stage. Don’t trip.
She released a relieved breath when she made it to her spot without falling on her face. For a second she felt completely at home standing with her fingers poised over the keys and her microphone adjusted perfectly at mouth level. And then she looked out at the crowd and forgot how to breathe. There were thousands of them—all expecting to get their faces rocked off—and she couldn’t remember what song they were supposed to play first.
That was when she noticed a set list taped to the platform. Now, if only her eyes would focus well enough for her to read it. Luckily, Iona wasn’t the least bit intimidated. She stepped up to the microphone center stage and managed to get out, “Thank you all for—” before horrendous feedback screeched at the fans. There was a collective groan as most of them covered their ears.
Iona stepped away from the microphone, and the screeching died. Iona glanced at Azura and then stepped forward to try again. “We’re Baroq—” A loud buzz grew in intensity until everyone was covering their ears again. A technician dashed onstage. Someone threw a shoe at him, but he dodged the projectile. He fiddled with something on Iona’s shiny purple bass guitar. Roux could see the front of house sound crew out in the middle of the audience scrambling to try to fix the problem on their end.
The crowd grew restless. Some idiot threw a water bottle on the stage, and it hit hard near Sage’s feet. The bottle’s contents splashed all over her lower legs. She hopped backwards a second too late.
“Hey, knock it off!” Azura yelled angrily, crossing the stage to check on her friend. A stagehand crouched low and hurried to collect the bottle and mop up the potentially slippery situation with a towel.
Roux noticed Iona waving at her and mouthing words she wished she didn’t understand: Talk to them. Oh fuck, she was going to puke. But she did have a working mic. One that hopefully wouldn’t sound like a hard-braking train when she spoke into it.
“S-sorry to keep you waiting. Sometimes a mic and an instrument don’t play nice together.”
But someone should have caught that during sound check. A technician was already unwinding the cord of a new microphone, to switch it out. Roux decided to introduce her band members while they waited. Her voice was surprisingly steady as long as she didn’t look at the crowd directly. Staring over their heads worked best. Imagining them all naked did nothing but nauseate her.
“Playing for you today is Azura on guitar.” Azura played a long, loud note on her guitar and held her bright blue instrument up over her head as the note carried. “And Sage, also on guitar.” Sage had to one-up Azura by playing several notes of one of her fastest guitar solos. “Back on drums is Lily.” Who doubled down on a drum solo of her own. “On bass and lead vocals is Iona.” Iona played several rumbling bass chords. “And I’m Roux, keyboard.” She played a few measures of chopsticks as a joke.
Some of the crowd laughed, but she very clearly heard someone yell, “Get off the stage!”
“Not until we’re finished making your ears ring,” Iona said with a wry grin. Her mic didn’t screech this time. Roux felt like cheering.
Iona continued speaking, every eye in the audience focused on her beautiful face displayed clearly on the big screen and every ear soothed by her hypnotic voice. “This afternoon we’re going to play a mix of our new album and some familiar songs by the legends of rock who inspired us. We are Baroquen.”
Bright lights flickered overhead, signaling the start of their first single, “Starlight.” It was the song that the concertgoers at the gates had been playing while they’d waited to have their forearms tagged with the band’s name, so some of the audience recognized it. Roux played the intro, her keyboard sounding seamless with the two wailing guitars, heavy drums, and throbbing bass. Iona’s voice carried across the festival grounds like a siren’s call. And to Roux’s surprise, even more festivalgoers rushed toward their stage. Steve had been right about the rehearsing and muscle memory. Once they started, the music flowed from her with ease. She hit all her notes, sang all her backup lyrics, and even started to relax enough to dance around a little. Her string-playing sisters were really putting on a show at the front of the stage, and Lily was so into her drums that occasionally her arm would extend high enough into the air that she could be seen.
A circle pit formed near the stage, and to Roux’s utter astonishment, she recognized several of the faces leading the ring of racing men and women waving their Baroquen-marked arms high in the air. Steve, Zach, and Logan worked the crowd into a frenzy from inside the pit. Security was having a hell of a time trying to keep order, but it didn’t seem like the rock stars in the crowd minded the jostling. Roux prayed none of them got hurt. At least Jack hadn’t joined in the chaos. What were those guys thinking? God, she loved them all for doing it.
They played Heart’s “Barracuda” next, which had the crowd singing along, followed by two of Baroquen’s heavier songs, “Final Stand” and “Cross the Line,” before playing Rush’s “YYZ,” one of Roux’s all-time favorite instrumental pieces. They slowed their frantic pace for their ballad “Fuck You, My Love,” which Lily had written about Jack several years before. Roux sang more in that song than any other.
Fuck you, for breaking my heart. Fuck you, for tearing me apart. Fuck me and take away my pain. Fuck you, you drive me insane.
The crowd caught on to the “fuck you” part of the song quickly and were singing along at the top of their lungs, their cellphones lit up and swaying above their heads even though it was the middle of the afternoon and the effect wasn’t as breathtaking as it would have been as thousands of glimmering lights at night.
Roux searched the crowd for Steve, knowing this was his favorite Baroquen song—apparently because she sang so much of it, not because one of his favorite words was repeated so often. She located him easily, as if her eyes were primed to focus only on him. He had one arm looped around Zach’s neck, and a beer dangling from his hand, but he was staring at her as if he’d been blind his entire life and had just been gifted with vision. She put a little extra soul into her voice just for him, and he lifted his glass of beer toward her before nearly strangling Zach as he drew it to his mouth for a drink.
A flash went off near him, temporarily drawing her attention from the man she’d never grow tired of staring at, and her heart thudded as she recognized Tamara. Fucking hell. What was she doing in the crowd? And why was she taking pictures of Steve? He either didn’t notice or didn’t care, but Roux could only guess how Tamara would twist a picture of Steve and Zach so close together into something perverse. Roux supposed the two men were used to that kind of fabrication. The lies the tabloids spread didn’t make them keep their distance from each other. Roux thought it was nice that a man was comfortable enough in his sexuality to be affectionate with a gay friend. And Zach never showed the least bit of sexual interest in Steve as far as she could tell, so that was refreshing as well. She hated that the public tried to twist their friendship into something it wasn’t and never had been.
Tamara followed Steve’s gaze to the stage, and maybe she recognized the obvious adoration for what it was, because she snapped several pictures of Roux before slinking off into the crowd.
Just as Zach had predicted, their performance ended before it had even settled into Roux’s mind that it was happening. They performed Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” as their encore, which sent the audience into a rapturous round of karaoke, and then it was over.
Roux took her bows, holding Azura’s hand at the end of her line of sisters. She’d never been prouder to be considered one of them. They were hugging each other and laughing and crying in a big huddle as they shuffled sideways off the stage. When they had almost reached the wings, Raven launched herself onto their ecstatic mass of joy and relief. She was crying so hard, she was gasping.
And when she showed them why, they waved at the rest of their sisters and Mama Ramona, who’d attended the show via the FaceTime app on Raven’s phone.
“You were spectacular!” Mama said, clutching her hands together tightly in front of her chest. “I’m so proud of you all. So proud.” She wiped at her tears. “I knew they would love you. My girls, all so special. So unique. So beautiful. So talented. So, so talented.”
She’d been telling each of them that from the moment they entered her house, until every one of her girls believed it of themselves and of each other. The woman was a rare treasure, a born mother, a true mentor. Roux was so lucky to have been found and rescued by her patchwork family.
“We love you, Mama!” Iona shouted, waving just as Kyle peeled her away from the group to kiss her passionately right there in front of everyone. Iona went limp and then threw her arms around him to kiss him back with palpable hunger.
Her five sisters exchanged looks of shock—Iona and Kyle kept their relationship under very tight wraps—and then squealed excitedly before crushing the typically private couple in a group hug. The only thing that could possibly make the moment more special was if Steve were there to share it with Roux.
A shadow settled behind her shoulder, and she knew her wish had been granted. She turned and reached for him. He was so gorgeous, smiling at her with love and pride in his expression. But the sneering face of Tamara, who was standing directly behind him, shattered Roux’s moment. She lifted her knuckles and fist bumped the love of her life, hoping he recognized how much it meant to her that he was there. Roux glanced pointedly to Steve’s left, and he turned his head.
Surprisingly, it was Reagan who went off on Tamara. “I am fucking sick of you showing up and ruining everyone’s good time.”
Tamara grinned and waved her press pass as if it were God’s key to the universe.
“Haven’t you caused enough problems for this band?”
“Don’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she bothers you,” Steve said, but he didn’t reach for Roux, and she knew he would have if Tamara hadn’t been there. “She’s a nonentity. Let her take her pictures and fabricate her lies.”
“Is your own life so boring that you have to make up shit about other people?” Reagan asked.
“Don’t talk to the ghost, Reagan,” Steve said. “Maybe it will go away.”
“You wish,” Tamara said. “My life’s mission is to make your life as miserable as you’ve made mine, Steve Aimes.”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” he said.
“You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about. And how did you manage to snag the keyboardist of Baroquen as your ‘assistant’?” She finger-quoted assistant. “Or is she fucking her way to the top?”
Roux was too stunned to respond. Steve looked puzzled. “My assistant?”
“That’s who Toni said she was this morning at breakfast.”
“Are you talking about Katie?” Steve said.
Azura and Raven burst out laughing. “She thinks you’re Katie!” Azura yelled at Roux, slapping her hard on the back and drawing her out of her stunned silence. “Like you and that dork have anything in common.”
Dork?
“That’s rich,” Raven said. “I can’t wait to tell Katie that someone thinks she looks like you.”
“She wishes,” Roux said, rounding up a bit of attitude, but feeling like a transparent moron.
“I can’t stand this woman,” Steve said, pointing at Roux.
“I saw the way you were looking at her onstage,” Tamara spat at him. “I’m not blind.”
“Well, I must admit I think she’s hot.”
“Even I think she’s hot,” Zach blurted.
“But we do not get along,” Steve said. “Not even a little.”
God, Roux fucking hated this farce. If it had been any person on the planet except Tamara, she would have come clean right then, but she wouldn’t give this woman the satisfaction of knowing she’d figured out their stupid sham so easily.
“We need to set up for the next band,” a stagehand interrupted.
That was their cue to stop clogging up the wings.
“What now?” Azura asked, deliberately turning her back to Tamara and effectively ejecting her from the conversation. “Do we get an after-party?”
Tamara huffed and crossed her arms, but the attention she’d once had, had shifted to Azura and plans for better times. Roux avoided looking at Steve so Tamara couldn’t read the heartache that was surely displayed in her eyes.
“We have a few hours before Sinners takes the main stage,” Reagan said. “You have to watch them perform. They’re amazing!”
Exodus End didn’t play until the next night, but they all wanted to support the other headliner of their tour.
“I think someone is a bit partial because her husband plays guitar in Sinners,” Max said.
“Guilty of being in love,” Reagan said, “but I’m not partial. They really do rock. But you all definitely need to celebrate. You were awesome! Like, I wanted to be you awesome.”
Azura laughed. “Right . . . You want to be us, when you get to be part of Exodus End.”
Roux chanced a glance at Tamara and was relieved to note she had vanished. She turned her gaze on Steve, who was staring at the ground, his jaw flexing as he clenched his teeth. Roux hadn’t been oblivious to Tamara’s tirade about making Steve’s life miserable in retaliation for whatever he’d done to her; there had been something between them that Roux didn’t know about. He needed to come completely clean about his involvement with Tamara.
“There’s this electrifying connection between you all,” Reagan gushed on. “It’s hard to describe and impossible to replicate.”
“I’ll trade you,” Azura said, but Roux knew she was only teasing. For one thing, Azura wouldn’t be able to survive without Sage by her side.
Reagan squeezed Azura’s arm. “I wouldn’t let you.”
Roux wondered what it must be like to be an outsider in a band with a long history. Reagan must feel isolated, and not just because she was a woman in a male-dominated profession, but because she had no history with her band. It hadn’t occurred to Roux until that moment that the insanely talented guitarist might be experiencing something besides utter jubilation as a temporary member of a band as famous and successful as Exodus End.
“I’m insanely jealous,” Reagan added. “Baroquen is going to be huge. As much as I despise Sam, I have to admit he was right.” She stuck her tongue out and gagged. “Never thought those words would cross my lips.”
Another non-fan of Sam’s. They were sure adding up. Did anyone like him?
“Uh,” the stagehand interrupted again. “I really need you to clear the area.”
“Sorry!” Reagan said, looping one arm through Azura’s and the other through Sage’s. “I was so busy fangirling, I forgot we were heading to a party.”
“What party?” Azura asked.
“The first one we can crash,” Reagan said.
Roux smiled, loving that her sisters had found a kindred guitar-chick spirit in Reagan Elliot.
“If she figured out who Roux is . . .”
Roux perked up her ears at Iona’s use of her name.
“. . . it’s only a matter of time before she figures out who I am,” Iona said to Kyle.
“I don’t care anymore,” Kyle said. “I’m tired of hiding. Besides, I’m no longer on the show, and it’s been three seasons since you competed. Everyone has forgotten the both of us.”
Roux followed them away from the stage, very conscious that Steve wasn’t beside her. She wasn’t even sure that he was behind them.
“Well, yeah,” Iona said, “until the entire scandal is revealed.”
“No one will be scandalized.” Kyle turned to Roux. His blue eyes appeared strikingly bright in contrast to his jet-black hair. “Are you scandalized?”
“Completely.” Roux grinned to let him know she was being sarcastic.
Iona scratched beneath her ear. “I guess we could use the outing of our relationship to divert attention from Roux.”
“I honestly don’t care if I’m found out,” Roux said. “And I don’t care if people think I had to screw some famous drummer to get my band its big break. It isn’t true, so I don’t care what they think!”
Iona wrapped an arm around her shoulders and spoke to her in a low voice. “I know you’re upset by that reporter following you around today, but we threw her off your trail again. She won’t keep bothering you. You’ll get plenty of private time with the guy in question. Just be patient.”
“You don’t get it at all,” Roux said. “I don’t want private time. I want blatant PDA. I want to hold his hand and kiss him and not have to worry if someone might be watching.”
Iona glanced around. “Shh. Someone will hear you.”
“Good!”
“This could be bad for Steve too,” Kyle said. “In today’s climate, a lot of men in positions of power are getting into trouble for coercing women.”
“He didn’t coerce me. He never coerced me.”
“But if the tabloids take that particular slant—”
“I’ll deny it all.”
“Just think about what you are doing before you do something rash, Roux,” Iona advised. “Once you go public, you can’t take it back.”
Roux rubbed her forehead. Was she being rash because she was fed up? She wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to regret any part of her relationship with Steve. But at that moment, her only regret was having to hide how she felt about him. She stopped and turned, scanning the crowd behind her, hoping that he’d heard her stand up for them. She smiled when she saw that he’d stopped quite a ways back. He was tall, so easy to spot in a crowd. For some reason he didn’t look too happy. Her smile faltered when she saw who he was scowling at. What the fuck was Sam Baily doing in England?