"Free?" She glances at me from under her long lashes and tucks a coil of strawberry curls behind her ear.
"Everything VIP is free."
"Fries, then. I promise not to throw any at you this time." She pauses, her expression turning sly. "Well, I can't really make that promise… But I promise to try not to."
"There is no try when it comes to fries." I cock a brow at her. "Don't forget. I'm behind the bar now. With a squirt gun full of soda."
I flash the nozzle at her and she throws her arms up, laughing. "Truce, truce!"
One of Gold Rush Standard's roadies, all beard and belly, interrupts us for a beer. I serve him and place the fry order before turning back to Teagan. "Truce for real?"
"For real," she answers. "And I'm sorry."
"Sorry for real?" I ask, again. "Because last time you said it things didn't go very well…"
"For real." She squeezes her lips together, considering her next words. "I have some things I need to work through."
I blink in surprise. This is the most she's given me in years. Don't show concern. Don't show concern. "Anything you want to talk about?"
"No. I'd appreciate it if we could just leave it at that for now." Her tone is clipped, controlled, and I can tell it costs her. Don't show concern. She takes a deep breath, pushes it out in a loud exhale. "Quit it with that puppy dog eyes shit."
Damn. "Sorry."
She waves a hand, brushing my apology to the side. "So where is he?"
"You just missed him but he invi—"
"What do you mean I just missed him? Is he coming back? Am I sitting where he sat? Oh my god." She stops, sniffing the air. "Is that Norris's cologne I smell? I didn't imagine he'd wear anything so vanilla-ish. He smells like a cupcake."
"Oh. No, sorry. I meant Luca." My mind is apparently one track today. And when she stares at me, puzzled, I clarify, "Luca James."
"Luca James—like, Gold Rush Standard Luca James?"
I nod, my face flushing.
"Well, well, look at you. First-name basis with one of the world's biggest stars." A mix of emotions play out across her face. She settles on a small, knowing smile. "Making your rounds around this place, I see."
"There's nothing to see." I shake my head, either toward her to bolster my words, or at myself, for lying. Mostly the latter, I think.
"You're so full of it," she says. "But if you don't want to tell me, I'll let it go. For now. Because all I want to talk about is meeting Norris. Where is he?"
"I actually haven't seen him today, but Luca said he'll be hanging out after the concert."
"Does that mean—wait. Are we hanging out with Gold Rush Standard after the concert?" She bounces in her seat, her expression hopeful.
"We're invited…" How do I tell her I don't want to go? Or…if I'm being honest: How do I tell her I'm too chickenshit to go—that Luca pulls at me in a way that's not really appropriate.
"Oh my God!" She shoots out of her stool. "Like backstage and everything?"
"Yeah." I glance at my hands beneath the bar, where my fingers are locked together, twisting around themselves. I didn't realize I was doing it. I hate how badly I want to hang out with Luca after his show. Hate it.
Hate.
It.
When I look up again, Teagan's wearing a puzzled expression. "Why aren't you excited?"
I hesitate, adding more straws and stirrers to their holders in front of me and down the side of the bar. Teagan waits, tapping her fingers on the bar until I'm back to answer her.
"I'm not sure I want to go." I'm not sure I should go, is what I mean but can't make myself say.
"Are you crazy?"
"No. But I don't even like this band! Why would I want to hang out after the show?" Then, because I know how stupid I sound—really, who would pass this up, fan or not?—I sigh. "Maybe I am crazy."
She shakes her head. "No. I am not going home empty-handed."
"What exactly will your hands be full of? Norris Marshal?" I pour an order of three beers when another roadie orders them, noting in the back of my mind how easy it is to do without paying attention. Go me. "He's got a girlfriend."
"First of all, if I wanted to take him home, you know I would." She waits until I concede her the point, which I do. The girl gets every guy she wants—well, except for Gage, but it's possible that's only because she left the first night we saw him and missed her chance, thank God—and always ends up with the most outrageous stories about them after. "Second of all, no. I'm not a home wrecker. I can love him without going for him. But I'm not leaving until I meet him."
"Teag. It's complicated."
"Remember staying up until sunrise trying to memorize every song on Lost in Time?"
I smile. We were fifteen, maybe sixteen—not much younger than Luca James himself at the time—and snuggled under blankets on the couches in the basement, listening to Gold Rush Standard's first album, songs on single repeat until we had them mastered. "We were so determined to put on a show for my parents the next morning. I can still recite half of those songs from heart."
"That album was amazing."
"Yeah. Lost in Time was. Every album that came after slid straight downhill." I sigh. I can't not take Teagan backstage just because I'm fighting this…urge or whatever for Luca. Let's be real. "Of course we're going after the show, okay?"
"No shit. I told you." She smiles at me, though.
"Just don't let me—"
I'm interrupted by Jared clearing his throat loudly from the side of the bar. I turn and his face is as scowl-y as it was earlier. "Your little rock god's gone. Enough slacking. You need to get back to work."
"She is working," Teagan's all attitude. On the one hand, it's refreshing not to have it directed at me. On the other, Jared might have a stroke.
"No," he says. "She's not."
"She's been pouring beers." She raises her brows, challenging him to deny it.
His nostrils flare—and I put up a pacifying hand to stop whatever he's going to say. "I'm sorry. You're right."
I don't love apologizing to him, but I'd rather keep the peace than have him toss Teagan out. Plus…he actually is right. So I let Nicole get back to whatever she's scheduled to do, and I take over her side of the bar. I'm not slammed, but I'm definitely too busy to keep chatting with Teagan. She's fine, though. Sipping her cider and people watching, her eyes darting this way and that. I bet she's looking for Norris; I can tell by the anxious sort of longing across her features. I hope that's not what I looked like when I was searching for Luca. Probably is, though. Damn it.
Vera brings over Teagan's fries. I glance over a minute later and they're conversing, but neither looks all that relaxed. I should go over, but I'm elbows deep in margarita mix ingredients and when I finish, Vera's gone. So are half of Teagan's fries. By the time things slow down enough to relax with Teagan again, her fries are all gone and she's folding the paper left in the basket into origami.
I slide another cider toward her and she takes it, thanking me. "This looks good on you," she says. "Bartending, I mean."
"Wait until the doors open and I'm actually slammed. You might think differently." Though maybe she won't. This job really does seem to suit me.
She's about to say more, but Polly slides into the stool next to her and Teagan stares, maybe a little shell-shocked that she's sitting next to a rock star.
I can't wait to watch her flip over Luca.
Norris, I mean.
I can't wait to watch her flip over Norris.
Get out of my head, Luca.
Polly tilts her head, looking at me. "Where's Luca?"
I shrug. "Backstage, probably."
She orders a shot of whiskey and a beer again. I get her top-shelf liquor and bottom-shelf Budweiser. Clark really would be proud at the way everything comes so naturally to me now.
She thanks me, shooting the whiskey and chasing it with her beer. "You girls coming backstage after the show?"
"Luca told you?" I keep my tone
light, not sure how she feels about it. Her expression isn't telling.
"I just know his style." She keeps her eyes on mine. "Invite a girl backstage, have some fun, toss her to the side."
"Subtle much?" Teagan turns her head toward Polly, attitude written across the stiff line of her jaw. She doesn't know the whole story with Luca, but she has my back regardless. This is the Teagan I know and love.
Polly spares her a glance, shoving a short blue-tipped piece of hair behind her ear. "I wasn't trying to be subtle."
"It's okay." I put my hands up toward both of them to ease the sudden tension. "I get it, Polly."
She's trying to rattle me, but she isn't telling me anything I don't already know. It's part of Luca's appeal. No strings. No feelings. Just fun.
Just right.
Wait. Not that last part.
Polly grabs her beer, standing. "He'll make you feel like the exception, but you aren't."
"I wouldn't want to be."
My answer confuses her, I think, because she pauses for a moment before laughing. "You actually believe that, don't you?" And when I don't answer, her tone takes on the smallest note of reluctant respect. "Good for you."
She slides a twenty dollar tip on the bar and drops half a smile in my direction. "See you after then, I guess."
"Guess you will." I'm a little proud of myself for not cowering. She's famous and probably a gazillionaire and I'm…just me. I feel like the old Cassidy would've backed into a corner and silently waited until Polly was gone. This new one spoke to her like an equal. But still, I don't know what to make of her.
Teagan does, though she waits until Polly's out of hearing range to tell me. "She's jealous of you!"
"Uh, no. She isn't." I slip the bill into a communal tip jar.
"Is it because of Luca James? Oh my God, are you really getting with him? I was kidding earlier."
"No." Just because I'm tempted doesn't mean I'll act on it.
"You have to tell me what's going on with you and him."
"Nothing." But my cheeks are too hot for my answer to be true.
"So is that other singer available then, the one I called dibs on but you stole? Because he is way yummy and I have no problem picking up the pieces of his broken heart."
"No!" The thought makes me sick. Which is confusing. Everything is so confusing. Ugh. Why can't life just be simple? Why can't this summer be as easy as it's supposed to be? "I'm seeing Gage, too. No. I mean, I'm just seeing Gage. Only Gage."
Only Gage.
Not Luca.
Only Gage.
"Okay." Teagan draws the word out, clearly expecting an explanation. But I shake my head and turn to wipe down the bar, giving myself a few moments to get my thoughts in order.
God, it's strange to be pulled with so much force in two directions. One road easy, the other unknown. I wish Gage was here. I need to see his face. I wonder if he's keeping his distance because he doesn't want to see me waiting on Luca hand and foot… A part of me is glad he isn't here. Most of me misses him.
"Greedy, greedy girl, holding on to all the boys." Teagan smiles over the lip of her cider when I make my way back to her.
"Stop! It's not like that." But maybe it kind of is. I can't quite meet her gaze. "Anyway. The concert should be fun. It's been a while since we got to hang out."
"So that chick Vera says she's coming tonight, too?" Her mouth flattens.
I nod, and, when she rolls her eyes, I say, "Give her a chance. She's really sweet—and fun."
"She gave me a huge attitude when she dropped off my fries."
"Really?"
"Well…she wasn't super nice or anything. And she was a total bitch the first night I met her."
"Actually, you were." Not sure this is the path we should go down right now, but I doubt Vera's ever been a bitch a day in her life.
Teagan frowns. "You were too drunk to remember anything that accurately." But then she sighs. "I was hoping for some time with just you tonight."
"Oh, so you're not here to meet Norris and hang out with a world famous band of rock stars?"
"Fine. Just you, me, and Norris and Gold Rush Standard."
"Give Vera a chance. You'll like her."
"I seriously doubt that."
"Teagan." Ugh with all this bitterness. At least it's still not toward me, but I wish she'd relax. "She's my roommate. She took me in after all this shit with my parents. I'm begging you—keep the peace, okay?"
"Fine."
I'm about to respond, but I lock eyes with Gage behind her and, for the slightest of moments, the world goes still. It's me and him and nobody else. There's an intensity in his gaze and I can feel the same thing across my own face. Man, I've got it bad.
Then he smiles and, even though it makes my breath catch, the world shifts back to normal. I wave him over and introduce him to Teagan. She greets him like it's the first time they've met. He steals a glance at me and I shrug. He goes with it, making easy small talk.
"Are you coming tonight, too," Teagan asks him, "or is it a girls' night?"
"What's tonight?" he asks, looking from her to me.
"Teagan and Vera want to stay for the concert." My words come out a little too fast, and I fiddle with the freshly filled straws, unable to keep my eyes on his for more than a second.
Does not mentioning Luca make me a liar?
Uh, yes.
"Have a girls' night. I know you've missed each other," he says, and guilt punches me in the stomach. I'm such an asshole.
Teagan's face flushes with pleasure. "You've missed me?"
"Every once in a while." I lift a shoulder like it's no big thing, but the small curve of her mouth tells me she knows it's more than that.
"Me too," she says. And as easy and small as the words are, something rights itself between us.
Gage's hand is on the bar. I grab it, stroking the back of it with my thumb in silent thanks. Then I notice Zoey watching and I let go of his hand. His eyes dart to where I've just looked and understanding dawns across his expression. A hint of guilt, too.
"I'll see you after?" he asks me.
I nod. "I'll text you."
And then Jared opens the doors to the VIP crowd and Gage heads to his stage and I'm so slammed I don't talk to Teagan again until the concert starts.
She's switched to water and, as I'm cleaning up around my half of the bar, Vera drops down next to her. I want to keep an eye on them, but stupid Jared makes me clean the bathrooms before letting me off. So I say a silent prayer for Vera and grab plastic gloves and a bucket, cursing Jared every step of the way. I look for Gage before heading in, but don't find him. He must've slipped out earlier. My stomach pangs with disappointment that he didn't say goodbye.
I glance at Zoey, still working behind the bar. I wonder if he said goodbye to her. Then I shake my head. I don't get to care about that. I do care about whether she gossiped to him about me and Luca, but nothing in her stance says she's accomplished anything other than cleaning the bar and serving a few more drinks.
When I finish in the bathroom, I do my absolute best to wash up in the sinks lining the bathroom wall. Soap, soap, and more soap. My skin ends up as dry as sandpaper, and I smell like cheap anti-bacterial dispenser soap, but at least I feel clean. Clean-ish, anyway. I smooth the dress I've changed into, relieved to be out of my sweaty BackBar polo. My friends, thankfully, haven't killed each other by the time I get back to them.
I reach behind the bar and grab a beer while Zoey's not watching and the topic turns to boys. Vera says Jared's jealous of her crush on Luca James, her tone implying how much she enjoys his annoyance. Teagan asks her what the deal is between me and Luca. Vera glances at me, trying so hard to keep her expression friendly. She almost succeeds. "I don't know. You have to ask Cassidy."
"I already told you," I say. "Nothing."
"My ass. You liar." Teagan stands, cracking her knuckles. "Can we please go watch the concert now?"
I glance behind us as we exit, checking one
more time for Gage, but he's still nowhere to be seen. Vera takes us to a BackBar manager I've never met—he works in the amphitheater, not the VIP pavilion—and gets us into really awesome seats. Practically first row.
When Luca takes the stage, I'm nearly deafened by the screams from every girl in the audience. Including Vera and Teagan.
He changed from what he had on earlier. Now his jeans are black and tight. His sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, showing off his tattoos, and his shirt's unbuttoned to reveal a very toned chest. His abs are…well, they're hot. Sculpted. Covered in tight, smooth, silky-looking-even-from-a-distance skin. Lickable. His lower abs angle down into the lines of a V that falls below the waist of his low-slung pants. I can just make out the hint of a happy trail, cutting down the middle.
Jesus.
Christ.
I can't stop swallowing.
And then the lights drop and a spotlight hits Luca and he starts to sing—to croon, really—in his sweet, sweet voice. He's kicking the concert off with "Blue." I don't like the song.
I don't.
It's stupid and played out.
I feel myself getting swept away anyway.
God, he's sexy. And his voice. Smooth and sweet. Hearing it live…it's a totally different experience than listening to a recording. It's disembodied, flowing out over the packed amphitheater—and, yet, it's also somehow completely intimate. Like he's singing just for me. Like I'm the only girl here right now. The screams around me fall away and it's so, so easy to imagine that his voice is all mine.
Polly joins him in the spotlight, and they lean back-to-back, hitting a high note in complete harmony. I wonder again if this song is written about her. Slowly the band joins in, playing their respective instruments as the stage lights up further and the song changes from its sweet, slow opening to a heavier, headier rock anthem. And when the drums kick in and the beat picks up, I'm up dancing with every other person in the audience.
Polly strides across the stage for a solo with her bass guitar, and she's unbelievably sexy in the way she stands, her hip jutted to the side, her hands flying, bold and broad along the instrument. Norris joins in a minute later, in the background, working his own guitar, his lean muscles flexing and shifting with his movements.
Starstruck (Rock & Release, Act II) Page 4
