by Elle Viviani
“Stacey!” someone at the back cries. “What’s the hold… Oh.”
Suddenly I find four pretty pairs of eyes on me. Pretty and roaming. Everywhere.
The blonde one recovers first. She shoves the girl in front of her out of the way to get to me. “Hi! I’m Nikki and single.”
The black-haired girl throws her a look. “But you are talking to that bartender, remember?” She moves her dark eyes to me. “I’m not, if you’re wondering.”
“He’s not.”
“Then move.”
“I saw him first!”
In the blink of an eye, the four gorgeous dancers turn on each other.
“Ladies,” I shout over the cacophony. “LADIES—”
Silence.
“I’m Ms. Hart’s security detail. I apologize for interrupting your, uh, get together, but I’m looking for someone—”
“It’s not me?” the brunette simpers.
I give her a disarming smile. “I wish I was, but it’s a guy.” All four faces fall. “His name’s Cody Jensen,” I continue, relieved to have avoided a hormone-fueled mob.
The blonde jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “He’s talking with Britney and Claire in the back.”
“Oh,” I say, frowning. Claire and Britney better not look like these four or things are about to get uncomfortable.
“Well, thank you, ladies. I won’t hold you any longer…” I hold the door open and wait for them to file past me. With a collective sigh, they grudgingly start up the stairs. The dark-haired one leans in as she passes me.
“I hope I see you after the show, sweetie,” she murmurs, adding a coquettish smile to that invitation before disappearing around the corner.
I let go of the door and slump against it. Damn. If that isn’t a test of willpower, than I don’t know what is.
The dressing room is empty of people but full of every hair, skin, and face product known to woman. I spot a cracked door in the back and head for it. When I yank it open, the three people huddled together on a small couch start with surprise. My eyes find Autumn’s manager and narrow. The look of panic is fleeting as it flits across his well-groomed face, but I see it. I see everything.
“Bryce?” Jensen sputters. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” My gaze slides to the dancers on either side of him. “What are you doing here?”
Jensen frowns. “Running through the dance sequence with Claire and Whitney.”
The redhead to his right slaps his arm. “Britney!”
“Oh, right…Britney,” he says, giving her a smile.
My face turns to granite as the young lady bursts into giggles. “Sorry to break up your meeting, but Michaela’s been trying to reach you.”
Cody pulls out his phone with a healthy scowl, but it evaporates when he sees the screen.
“Shit! It’s on silent.” He gets up and starts for the door, but stops when I start to follow. “Can I help you?”
I stay silent, not needing words to apply pressure. I’m rewarded when the skin above his white Oxford shirt grows red.
“I know where I’m going, bodyguard,” he snarls.
“Then you shouldn’t lose your way this time,” I say, stepping forward, “because the next time I find you behind a closed door with someone other than Autumn, things won’t stay so friendly…” I inch aside, leaving barely enough room to pass by me. “If you understand me.”
The scathing look I get from Jensen as he brushes by me could’ve killed.
I’m about to follow, to make sure he gets where he’s going, when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I answer without bothering to look at the screen. “Hill. Talk quick.”
“Uh, maybe I should call back?” a gravelly voice says on the other end.
My hand pauses on the stairwell door. “Rendell?”
“The one and only.”
The sound of my best friend’s voice loosens up my tight shoulders. Koa Rendell and I go all the way back to boot camp. He left the Navy for Maine a few years in, but that didn’t stop us from staying in touch. I was just up there this July for his birthday while Autumn and Cody were gallivanting around the Caribbean. I’ll never pass up the opportunity to have a fresh lobster roll and a pint of cider. Or six.
I push through the door and head for the stairwell. “So I’m guessing Portland hasn’t kicked you out yet?”
He gives a deep chuckle. “Not yet. Just calling to catch up. It’s been a while, man. I thought you’d died or something.”
“Not yet,” I throw back at him. I’m rewarded with a grunt. “I’ve been pulling long hours on this tour. At the venue right now while autumn rehearses this dance for tonight’s show.”
“Okay,” Koa says slowly. “I don’t know much about country music concerts, but I don’t remember Garth Brooks dancing around stage.”
“That’s because he’s usually playing the guitar.”
“Isn’t that Autumn’s thing, too?”
“Used to be.” I open the door to the stairwell and glance up. Seeing no backup dancers, I walk over to the steps and take a seat. “Autumn’s been offered a deal with Sunny Records.”
Koa whistles. “Wow. I even know that name.”
“It’s a pop deal.”
“Is that bad?” A pause. I expect Koa to press, but he doesn’t. One of the many reasons we get along so well. “Alright. How’s Autumn?”
I shift uncomfortably on the hard concrete steps. “Can’t get a read on her. You know how it is between us. It’s hard to talk to her with the tour and…other things.”
“So she’s still with that dude?”
I crack my knuckles in the silence, telling myself I won’t go down this road. Don’t get involved, stay out of it—
“He’s just like the rest of them—though this one’s turning out to be scummier than I thought,” I add, remembering the suspicious meeting I just found Jensen holding behind a closed door. “I don't know why she lets him talk her into all this shit.”
“Is Autumn pushing back?”
“Yeah, but he’s pushing harder. You know how Autumn gets with the people she loves.”
“Whoa. You think she loves this guy?”
I don’t answer. The question had never crossed my mind. But even as I try to convince myself she must, the twisting in my gut tells me no. Being famous means you’re surrounded by people that only want something from you, and that describes Jensen perfectly. You’ve got to be guarded.
At least Autumn doesn’t give her heart away easily—something I know better than most.
“I don’t know,” I lie. “How’s Summer? She moved in yet?”
Koa doesn’t answer at first, clearly not buying my deflect. “Yeah, Summer’s good, and yeah, she moved in last week.”
“Bet you two are about to kill each other.” I met Summer Rae when I was up in Portland. She’d been coerced into being Koa’s first mate as a favor to her grandparents, an arrangement as disagreeable to Koa as it was to her. But somewhere between trying not to kill each other and keeping a fishing business afloat, they'd gotten wise about how they felt about each other.
“Sometimes,” Koa admits, “like when she burnt through my only skillet because she’d never cooked with gas, but mostly it’s pretty damn awesome.”
Jealously whips through me. I’ve never come close to feeling that way about anyone. Except maybe for Autumn: irresistible but untouchable.
“Man, I’m gonna tear up.”
“Shut up.”
“Yeah, right.” I glance at my watch and get up. My thighs scream as I flex my legs. I look up the stairs and cringe. This isn’t going to be fun. “Hey, I’ve gotta go. Autumn should be finishing up and I’ll need to watch her like a hawk before the show.”
“Is she a tough client?”
“Doesn’t mean to be. She’s just headstrong and thinks she’s invincible.”
Koa chuckles. “Sounds like you and your client are more alike than you think.”
“We’ve known each other for a long
time,” I mutter. I grab the railing and launch myself onto the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.
“Or it’s more than that.”
“Sure it is.”
Koa sighs. “Open your damn eyes, Hill.”
“They’re open,” I say, gritting my teeth against the pain. “I went down that road nine years ago, and I’m not going back.”
“Yeah, yeah—I know. You told her how you felt, and she turned you down.”
“Nah, I never told her. She walked off with some jock before I could.”
“And?”
Embarrassment sweeps through me. Not saying goodbye was my one regret, and the pain I inflicted on her was weaved into every single letter she wrote me that year.
“What do you mean and?” I say testily, slowing to a stop. “I left.”
“Oh.” He goes silent. “Then never mind.”
I roll my eyes as I turn the corner. “Okay, asshole, let’s hear the new and improved wisdom.”
“You let a good thing go.”
“Excuse me?” I slam to a stop and struggle for breath. I tell myself it’s because of the sprints, but I know it’s the wound Koa just reopened with six little words. All I could think about senior year was graduation: the day when I’d be forced to leave Autumn behind.
“You let her go,” Koa repeats in that cocky voice of his, “and—”
“And what?” I demand.
“Eh, nothing,” Koa says, like I’m a lost cause. I probably am. “Alright, I’ll let you go. Good luck with the tour and everything.”
Koa’s unfinished sentence lingers long after he’s hung up. He didn’t need to finish it, though, I know exactly how it ends. It’s what I’ve been ignoring for nine long-ass years.
Maybe it’s time to fix your mistake, idiot.
Chapter 8
Autumn
At least I didn’t fall on my ass.
Those words are on permanent loop as I lean back in my dressing room chair. I slowly trace a thin crack in the ceiling paint as my boyfriend lobs the same argument at me.
“…and I’m telling you that you should be out there celebrating.”
I grab my water glass off my vanity. My legs may be on strike, but at least my arms are still working. “I don’t think going to the afterparty’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m exhausted! All I’ve done today is dance and sing and try to remember the complicated moves that Jose foisted on me this afternoon.”
Cody grows desperate. “Autumn, please, I had everything planned. Atlanta’s hottest club is waiting for you.”
“I know, but I’m more worried about the show I just did. How did my fans take the change?”
“Why don’t you ask them yourself tonight?”
My glass pauses halfway to my lips. “Fans will be there?”
“Of course! You’re always saying how important it is to mingle.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You wouldn’t want to let down your fans, right?”
Checkmate.
I press my hand to my forehead and nod. “Alright, but I really am tired.”
Cody walks over and pulls me into a tight hug. “I know, so we won’t stay long.” He waves to Michaela loitering in the doorway. “Tell them to expect us in thirty minutes.”
I pull back from Cody’s shoulder as my PR agent walks off. “Thirty minutes? How far is this place?”
“Not far, but you need to change. You want to look sexy, fierce, for your fans. Not like you just gave a two-hour-long concert.”
“But I did just give a two-hour-long concert,” I say as Cody pulls out his phone.
“But they don’t have to smell it.”
I sneak a sniff at myself and give a defeated shrug. “Fair enough. I’ll change.”
Cody grins as my stylist Kendra sashays into the room, balancing effortlessly on her tall stilettos. Six foot, teased out afro, and a booty that would make Beyonce jealous, the woman knows her shit when it comes to fashion.
“You’re going to love what Kendra picked out for you, babe,” Cody says. He kisses my cheek before handing me over to her. “I can’t wait to see you in it.”
I’m fuming in the back of the VIP lounge of Purr. It may be the trendiest nightclub in Atlanta, but it’s also the dimmest.
I squint at the people gliding by me in heels that put Kendra’s to shame. Everyone is ultra-fashionable, model-beautiful, and glimmering under the strobe lights flashing across the dance floor below us. Then there’s me, parked on an uncomfortable leather couch with a scowl on my face that is one hundred percent directed at my boyfriend.
I watch Cody deliver his punchline to a group of (you guessed it) gorgeous clubbers. I suppose they’re technically my guests since they’re at my afterparty, but I don’t know anyone here except for my crew. The few introductions Cody forced on me before I made this couch my home gave me all the info I needed. Marketers, fashion designers, music industry big leaguers, professional athletes—I have nothing against them, but would it have killed my manager to add a country singer to the frickin’ list?
Not to mention there weren’t any fans. Not. One. I’m beyond livid.
Cody frowns as he catches my eye. He says something to his new fans before breaking away from the group and heading for me. “What’s wrong?” he asks in a puppy-dog voice. I fight the urge to strangle him. “Don’t wanna work the room?”
“You’re working it enough for both of us.”
Cody leans in and cups his ear. “Sorry, what?”
I lean forward and plaster a smile on my face. “Where are my fans, Cody? You remember—the one’s you promised me would be here?”
“I’m sure they’re on their way.”
“So you did invite them?”
“Of course.” Cody glances at his watch, but not before I see the look of alarm on his face. “Uh, look, I have a bunch more people to talk to. Are you sure you don’t want to join me? There are really important people here.”
“Why would it matter? I have no idea who the hell I’m looking at.”
Before I can get up, Cody leans over and brings his lips close to my ear. “You look sexy tonight, did I tell you that?”
“No. Somehow you forgot.”
“Well, I’ll make it up to you later.” Cody’s breath is hot against my flushed skin. “We’ve got that hotel room for one more night, right?”
I bite my lip and nod, hating the way that my anger is fading away.
He plants a soft kiss on my lips before pulling back. “Then let’s make it count.”
Suddenly I’m glad this bar is one shade lighter than black. I don’t want him to see how easily his words affect me. I want him to know he’s crossed the line this time.
Cody gets up and holds out his hand. “Coming?”
I shake my head. Not only do I not want to reward bad behavior, but at this point, I’m not sure I’ll make through a little time between the sheets. I’m a dead woman walking.
“Okay, but I call a dance later.”
Unless my legs fall off.
Zoe plops down next to me as he strolls off. “How’s the girl of the hour?”
“Tired, cranky, and worried about this dress,” I grumble, polishing off my club soda.
Her gaze runs over me before landing on my legs. “Why? You’ve got the legs for it.”
“And thank God because it barely covers my ass.” I offer up a prayer for loud music as I pry my skin off of the sticky leather. No one wants to hear that. “Seriously, my ass is all over this couch right now.”
My eyes jump to Bryce as he shifts slightly across the lounge. He briefly meets my eyes before turning toward a throng of dancers. There’s no way he heard me, not with Lady Gaga blaring out of a hundred speakers, but the thought still churns my stomach. Ever since I walked out of my dressing room, Bryce wouldn’t look directly at me. He must dislike my scandalous outfit as much as I do.
I point to my bright purple platforms with little spikes lining the ba
se. “Take these,” I shout at Zoe over the throbbing beat. “I love them, but they’re going to kill anyone that comes within five inches of me.”
Zoe shrugs. “You’re always saying how much you like your personal space.”
“But possible maiming-slash-impaling?” I shake my head. I put my cup down and begin the laborious task of getting to my feet. “I’ve danced all day, but maybe a little ass shaking will make me feel better.” Maybe Cody was right: I did need a tiny bit of fun.
The look I get from my assistant makes me wonder if this dress finally crested my hips. A quick glance down puts that fear to bed.
“But I have something I need to do first.”
Zoe’s eyes follow mine to Bryce. “Uh huh.”
“It’s not like that,” I say a little too fast. “It’s personal.”
A coquettish smile breaks out across her lips. “Sure, sure,” she says with an few elbow nudges. “Go get ’em, tiger!”
“No, wait!” I begin, but I’m talking to air. Zoe disappears past the ropes, grabs some guy away from a drunk redhead, and gives the reins over to Rihanna.
I feel like I’m walking through thick mud as I thread my way toward Bryce. His eyes are cooly surveying the crowd, but that doesn’t fool me. If I so much as sneeze, Bryce sees it. Which means he’s monitoring my approach.
“Hey, Hartman,” he says while I’m still a few steps away. His gaze falls on me and lowers, sweeping over my swept-back hair, showy makeup, and skintight magenta bodycon dress. His eyes are hot and heavy when they find mine. “You look amazing.”
Cody’s compliment and caresses are suddenly a distant second to those simple three words—though I know it’s not the words that are having this effect on me. It’s the man they’re coming from.
Looks like I was wrong. Bryce didn’t hate my outfit, he liked it. A lot.
I step forward and close the gap between us, telling myself it’s so I can be heard over the music, but I know that’s a lie. I crave to be closer to the striking dirty blonde who's caught the eye of every woman in this club. “I never thanked you for joining my team.”
“You never have to thank me for keeping you safe,” he answers. His eyes scan my face. “Are you okay?”
