by Cari Quinn
“Try it on.”
She immediately pulled her hands away. “No, that’s okay.”
“I insist.”
She shook her head. “No. Best not to tempt myself.” It was how she lived her life. It was how she kept some of the disappointments at bay.
He pulled out the ring. “Chloe. Out of all the rings in this case you chose the most understated one. The least you can do is try it on.”
Ivy curled her arm around Chloe’s waist. “Seriously. I can hear you saying no from over there. My ears are ringing from all the pretty things. Put the frigging ring on, woman.”
Chloe laughed over her shoulder. “How much of Nick’s money did you spend?”
“A paltry figure.”
“For who?” She arched a brow. “A millionaire?”
Ivy laughed. “No, that’s Jinx. She definitely hit the four figures.”
“Oh God.” Chloe’s chest tightened.
“Try on the ring. I know you won’t buy it, but you have to see the sparkler on your finger.” Ivy tucked her chin on Chloe’s shoulder. “Sure you don’t want to try on a bigger one?”
Nathan turned the ring under lights that were designed to make gemstones sparkle. “It’s a lovely piece.”
Ivy pointed to the huge sapphire in the middle of the ring case. “That’s a lovely piece.”
Chloe wrinkled her nose. “Too big. It would get caught on everything.”
“First world problems.”
Nathan laughed. “She’s being logical. It’s fine to have both sides of your personality balance out when picking out a piece.”
“Vegas isn’t for balance,” Jinx said from across the room.
“That’s the truth,” Chloe mumbled. Nothing had felt balanced since she’d stepped foot off the plane. As soon as she’d stepped foot inside Donovan Lewis’s plane, to be honest.
Ivy tugged Chloe’s hand from her side and held it out to Nathan. “Ring, please.”
He frowned. “Only if Chloe wants to try it on.”
Chloe uncurled her fingers. “Fine.”
Nathan slid it over her first knuckle and then gently over her second until it rested on her finger. “Perfect fit.”
She held in a soft moan at how amazing it looked. The one thing she’d always been good at was using a lot of lotion. No matter how many trays she balanced, or glasses she cleaned, or diapers she changed, she refused to have hands that looked like an elderly woman’s. Her one vanity. Her nails might be short, but they were always neat. And the wine-colored nail polish made the jewels look like they actually belonged on her.
Even if they so didn’t.
She quickly pulled it off her finger. “It’s gorgeous. Thanks for letting me dream for a second, Nathan.”
“Man,” Ivy muttered. “You put us all to shame with your Mary Sue-ness.”
“I don’t need it.” If only they knew just how many thousands of dollars she’d actually taken from Nick over the last year. At least that had been for her baby, not for her. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, Miss Chloe.” He winked and put the displays back into the case. “You ladies have a good rest of the night.”
“Oh, we will.” Ivy dragged her away from the glass and glitter to the front of the store. “See what I got?” She lifted her chin to show off the trio of delicate gold chains. A flash of diamond glittered from each one. Small diamonds, but diamonds nonetheless.
Diamonds equaled money.
Chloe forced herself not to ask how much. “That’s gorgeous.”
“Wait until you see Jinx’s haul.”
“I can’t wait.”
Ivy grinned. “I almost believe that.”
A dozen bangles tinkled as Jinx waved them over. “You ready to rock this concert? We have work to do.”
There was a lot of flash with the gold on her arm. Nope. Not asking. No how, no way. “More than ready.” There, that sounded true.
She really was excited to see the show. She didn’t know much about Warning Sign besides the hit that was always on the radio. Brooklyn Dawn and Oblivion would definitely be highlights though.
She let Ivy and Jinx carry the conversation on the way up in the elevator. She checked her phone and found a text from her dad. They were having a blast at the picnic and would be staying at the campgrounds.
No goodnight call tonight.
She rubbed the phantom pain in her heart. It was good for Axl to be with his Pop Pop. Really good that they were looking out for one another. But didn’t Axl miss her at all?
“Chloe!”
She blinked. “What?”
“Where are our seats?”
“VIP, first level. Second row, I think.”
“Damn.” Jinx whistled. “We are going to have so much fun.”
Chloe nodded. “Damn right.” She followed the girls off the elevator and down the hall. They had so many bags they couldn’t walk side by side. That so wasn’t good.
Getting ready pushed away some of the homesickness for her kid. That and Jinx cranking Brooklyn Dawn’s new album at an ear-shattering decibel. She was sharing the mirror with Ivy when Jinx suddenly disappeared.
“Drinks, bitches. And our passes arrived.”
Chloe peeked out with one eye done. “What the hell is that?”
Jinx looked down at the cart. “Something called Mercury.” She stirred the pitcher of blue liquid. For pity’s sake, Chloe could smell the alcohol from across the room. Jinx came over with oversized martini glasses filled to the brim. She took a little sip. “Oh my God. You have to try it.”
Had to be sapphire blue. Seriously?
Ivy wiggled her way around Chloe. “Oh, what’s that?”
“Mercury.”
“That sounds interesting.”
“Not the word I was going with.” Chloe accepted a glass.
“A toast. To the finest bitches in this hotel tonight. May we have fun, get drunk, and if we’re lucky, get royally laid.”
Ivy lifted her glass. “Hell yes.”
Chloe wasn’t sure about the getting laid part, but she was determined to have fun. “Bottoms up.”
“That’s the spirit.” Jinx took a gulp, her eyes bulging as she got a full taste.
Chloe was pretty sure hers were a match. “Holy shit. What’s in there? Lighter fluid?”
Ivy sputtered a little. “I’m going to say some grain alcohol.”
The last time she had Everclear, there had been a lot of hickeys on her neck. Chloe wasn’t sure if that was her being hopeful or not, but she took another swig. This time, the alcohol burned a little less and the flavor of pineapple made her taste buds demand more.
She set her glass on the counter as she went back to her makeup. She shimmied to “House of Cards” as Lindsey sang her heart out about losing the love of her life.
She knew how that felt.
When she emptied her glass, suddenly there was another one at her elbow. She sipped as she attacked her red hair with a curling iron and hairspray. The ombré skirt floated around her legs as she tried not to think about the inches of midriff she was showing with the strappy halter top.
“Fuck, you’re hot.”
Chloe paused as she painted on her dark lipstick. “Thanks. Still not changing teams. Even for you.”
“You couldn’t handle me.” Jinx put her hands on her hips. “Everything’s perfect except…”
Chloe recapped her lipstick. “Except what?”
Jinx held up a finger and ran into the bedroom. She came back with palm-sized scissors.
“What the hell are those for?”
“Just need a little shortening.”
Chloe tried to back up. “No. This skirt cost three hundred dollars.”
“And will look like a thousand dollars when I’m done with it.”
“Hell no.”
“I’ve done this a million times.”
“Oh, yeah? I don’t see a sewing kit.”
“If you stop moving, then I’ll cut straight. Legs—perfect legs,
remember?”
Chloe slammed her eyes shut and stopped breathing as Jinx went around her with the scissors. She could actually hear the snip of the cloth. When air kissed her legs well above her knees, she was terrified to open her eyes. “It was ombré, now it’s just going to be blue.”
“Nope. Open your eyes and look.”
“If you ruined this skirt, I’ll skin you and steal your pants. Why you get to wear pants and I have to go with three quarters of my legs hanging out seems beyond unfair.”
“Assets. I have long legs and skirts don’t fit me right. You’ve got a rocking body you hide under mom jeans and khakis. We are not letting you hide tonight.”
“Right. No hiding.” Chloe opened her eyes and lightly swayed. The skirt belled around her thighs and fell in a floaty little sigh.
“I’m right.”
“Shut up.”
“I’ll take it.” Jinx stood up and hugged her. “We’re going to have fun tonight.”
Chloe hugged her back. “Yes, we are.”
By the time they got back down to the main level where the House of Blues was, music was pumping out of the mouth of the entrance. They showed their laminated passes and were handed off to the next checkpoint.
Black walls, a black stage, and a steel support system crammed with twirling lights offered the perfect ambience. Huge screens packed each available corner to make sure no one had a bad seat. The iconic heart was flushed with purple and red flames. House of Blues—every musician's dream, no matter how famous.
She didn’t have a musical bone in her body, but the heady power of the building itself was enough to send her pulse skittering. Her blood heated and fizzed the deeper they moved into the venue.
The place was packed. Now that they were inside, voices overpowered the piped-in music. Heat from too many bodies packed together made her suddenly very thankful she was wearing practically nothing. They were passed along to another staff member, who looked over their passes and checked a clipboard.
Jinx and Ivy squealed when they moved down yet another section. The stage was right there. They’d be eye level with the series of instruments set up along the stage’s edge. A gorgeous pink guitar was anchored into a stand. She recognized the Takamine, the Les Paul, the Gibson, the Jackson, the Stratocaster, and the gleaming polish of the drum set. Scarves flirted around a microphone stand, catching the breeze from the fans working overtime above.
The murmur of conversation crashed around her as they found their seats. The front row was dotted with people, but this wasn’t the main event. Warning Sign was the opener and still very new to the scene with only a few hits under their belts.
The VIP section would fill up as the night wore on. Local radio winners, along with ones from Sirius XM’s contest would add still more people to the section. The high rollers who forever seemed to have access to the best the hotel could offer would take over more than a few seats as well. This was Vegas. The big time that her fiancé had longed for.
He’d never quite made it.
The lights flickered. Dejá vu kicked hard.
The stage had been part of her life for so long. This was a helluva lot bigger than the dives that Snake had played in, but the feel was the same.
That sense of anticipation, the hum of energy in the audience. Everyone was waiting for those opening chords.
Including her. For the first time in a long time, she couldn’t wait for the show to begin.
Seven
Michael tugged at the vintage KISS T-shirt he’d paired with worn jeans and combat boots and scanned the backstage area one last time.
It wasn’t looking good. Not for Malachi showing up, and not for him making amends anytime soon with Lila.
Oh, he knew eventually she’d forgive him. Their relationship was built too strong to be blown apart by the careless words he’d thrown out when he’d still been smarting from the Tabitha situation and Ryan’s injury. But she was going to make him sweat for a while.
That was the Lila he knew and loved. And occasionally growled at.
“We’re going to have to do it without him.” At his side, Ryan rubbed his wrapped wrist with the fingers of his other hand. “I can play one-handed. It won’t be pretty, and y’all will have to carry my ass, but we can make it work.” When Michael didn’t reply, Ryan added, “Hey, it’s just an hour, right? Barely even that.”
“An hour of your biggest hits, played in front of a crowd that is excited to hear Brooklyn Dawn and Oblivion.” Lila strode up to them, impeccable as always in a pale blue business suit and black pearls. “This is not the time to phone it in.”
Michael pivoted toward where Elle was warming up on her beloved Gibson. Her blond head was bent, and the flowy peasant top she wore dipped off one shoulder as she concentrated on her fingerwork. His gaze drifted to Molly, doing stretches in one corner, then to Juliet, who was pacing and texting on her phone. West was doing air keyboards to the piped-in music through the sound system. And Ryan was at Michael’s side, as always.
They all had their pre-show routines, and that hadn’t changed because one of them was hurt. Maybe they’d hadn’t locked up tight yet as a group like Brooklyn Dawn or Oblivion, but they were making progress.
One show wouldn’t make them. Nor would it break them. It was just a show.
“We won’t be phoning anything in.” Michael cracked his knuckles and nodded at Ryan, who looked a lot less confident than Michael would’ve liked. Ryan always kept his eye on the prize. He never faltered. At least he hadn’t before tonight.
Michael shut his eyes. Fuck, he wasn’t used to being the group’s backbone. His role was to support not to lead, and that was the way he liked it. He was just a guy who played guitar.
And lines up for free booze and plentiful pussy.
Yeah, well, not tonight. He wasn’t planning on getting loaded or finding a chick. He’d have to be on point to help his band through the show, and afterward, he’d be there to pick up the pieces if needed.
After all, he’d been the one who’d rejected Lila hiring a studio musician for the night to fill in for Ryan. As long of a shot as it was, Michael had held out hope that Mal would show. He might not want to, might curse his little brother mightily after, but Mal wouldn’t let Michael down. Until it was actually happening, he hadn’t truly believed it would.
Now they were about to go on the stage, and Mal wasn’t anywhere in sight.
“We’ll be fine,” he said, finally opening his eyes.
Ryan and Lila were gone.
Okay then. Guess he was on his own, just like the band.
He reached under his shirt and pulled out the silver cross Lila’s mother had given him on his first Christmas at the orchard. He hadn’t been religious even back then, and neither were Lila’s parents for the most part. But Gram had told him that as a musician, he needed to have a higher power to call on for that extra little boost at the eleventh hour. Whether he was bolstered by spirit or self, with that cross, he would never be alone.
Ever since then, he’d always gripped the cross at the times he most needed a hand. The gesture always centered him and reminded him to count his blessings, not his failures.
There would only be blessings tonight.
Feet scuffed the floor behind him and the murmur of voices turned into something else altogether. He turned and glimpsed Elle being plucked up from the bench she’d been seated upon.
By Malachi, who lifted her as if she were a rag doll and he was the Incredible Hulk.
Holy fuck.
He set her down and took the seat she’d just vacated—not by choice. While she sputtered, he opened up what appeared to be a roll of fabric on the bench. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I need this seat for a second.”
“I’m not your sweetheart.”
He gave her a dismissive glance over his shoulder. “No, I don’t suppose you are. Too skinny for me. But cute enough in the right light. You should use more makeup on stage. Your eyes totally disappear under the glare.”
/> Glowering, Elle lifted her guitar. Since Michael wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t have broken it over his brother’s block head, he moved between them. “Hang on, Elle. No killing the talent, even if he deserves it.” Still facing Elle, Michael reached back and slapped Mal against the ear. “Asshole. Don’t talk to my bandmates like that.”
Malachi grunted, and when Michael looked over his shoulder, he realized the roll of fabric contained a selection of drumsticks. Casual player, hmm? “I’m part of the band tonight. So I guess that makes little Ricki my bandmate too.”
“It’s Elle,” she said, flexing her fist around the neck of her Gibson. “I’m not little either. You’re just a freaking giant.”
Having evidently chosen his preferred weapons of destruction for the night, Mal stood, drawing himself up to his full height. Michael had waited to get the same growth spurt that had sent Mal from scrawny up to mountain man, but it had never happened. Michael had made it to almost six-feet tall, but Mal was six-fucking-four. And he owned every inch.
“What kind of kit am I working with?” Mal asked Michael, though his gaze remained on Elle.
“You?” Lila walked toward them, flanked by Ryan on one side and Molly on the other. “You’re not working with anything.” Her accusing gaze shot to Michael. “This is who you bring on my stage?”
A muscle ticked in Mal’s jaw. “Hiya, stepmommy. Did you miss me?”
Even without glancing at Elle, Michael glimpsed her hand falling slack at her side. Elle was Lila’s husband Nick’s twin sister, which, of course, made her Lila’s sister-in-law. Evidently, she hadn’t heard much about the prodigal son.
The missing Shawcross son had finally come back—temporarily at least. Assuming Lila didn’t chase him away.
“He can play,” Michael said defensively.
“Oh, really? Since when?” Lila glanced at Mal, but he continued tapping his sticks against his thigh and remained silent.
“He can play,” Michael said again. “Trust me.”
God, he hoped she could trust him. That the rest of his band could too. Right now, he just didn’t know.
That Mal had a selection of sticks was a good sign, but if he asked him anything too probing, his brother was apt to split. And it wasn’t like they had other options except for gimpy Ry, who would try but could only do so much.
