by Nikki Godwin
I immediately look away and stare at Big Tony as he leads us to a sleek black limo. He motions us inside and turns his back to shield us. I try to lean around and see who he’s hiding us from, but Noah tells me to get in first, so I see nothing. Tank, Benji, and Nat are already inside. Benji is wedged between the two of them, and it takes everything in me not to crack up because I know Nat went after him even after Noah told him not to. Benji will never have a girlfriend, even if management allows it, because Nat Winters won’t. If I were a Benji fan, I think I’d rather fight management for him than go up against Nat.
Even without introductions, I recognize everyone else in the vehicle. Aralie sits on the other side of Nat, dressed in black pants and a black and purple corset top. Her rebellious persona fits her well. Jules sits next to her, completely engaged in a private conversation with his girlfriend. Noah introduces me to them, as well as Jules’s bodyguard Cannon, and then turns to the window to see what’s happening outside of the tinted glass.
“Chloe and Milo not coming?” he asks to no one in particular.
“They’re fighting,” Nat answers. Aralie shoots him a death glare, but he instantly defends his statement. “What? They were. Milo got all jealous boyfriend because Chloe was on the phone with…you know…and then Chloe got all ‘it’s a business call’ and Tank made us leave the room.”
Aralie stares at Nat the way the girl in the lobby stared at me. “First, it was Derrick on the phone,” she says, crossing her arms and angling toward Nat. “Second, it was a business call. He was sending over pictures of the finalized album. And third, it’s really none of your damn business.”
Nat shrugs. “Just calling it like I see it, doll,” he says.
“Then stop calling it,” Benji snaps. He squirms around, trying to find some wiggle room, and not-so-accidentally rams Nat with his elbow.
Yep. This is definitely not the kind of experience I was expecting. I bet that Darby girl was really disappointed. I can’t even imagine being obsessed with a band, finally getting to be on the inside, and finding out this was all it had to offer. What a letdown.
Everyone resumes private conversations for another moment or two before the limo door opens and the girl of the hour steps inside. She wears a red knee-length dress with cap sleeves and a V-neck. The silhouette of the dress wraps around her body in an elegant but modest way. She’s pretty much exactly what I expected of Chloe Branson. Milo crawls in behind her, dressed better than the other guys in the limo. They definitely represent a star couple, regardless of the rumors.
No one says a word about her phone call with Derrick, who Noah explained is the lead singer of Sebastian’s Shadow. No one mentions the cheating rumors. No one even says a word about Nat’s hand finding its way to Benji’s knee, no matter how many times he redirects it back to Nat. The limo moves forward, and existence goes on. Is this life behind the tabloids? Chloe and Milo fake smiles while Nat attempts to convert his brother’s band mate?
The limo parks next to a side entrance at Lights Out. It doesn’t look like a media circus outside, thankfully. Maybe word still hasn’t leaked around town that Spaceships Around Saturn is crashing at Crescent Inn. Tank and Big Tony step out first to secure the area. Nat and Benji follow suit, with Chloe and Milo close behind.
Whatever Sebastian’s Shadow drama was plaguing them before seems to have vanished. Milo wraps an arm around her, keeping her all close and snuggly as they walk with Tank toward the entrance. I feel incredibly guilty for giving in to rumors and sleaze, but I can’t help wondering if she’s truly happy. She’s been wrapped up in this Saturn life for nearly a year. Is it really all it’s cracked up to be? I wish I could ask her, but I know she’d never tell me the truth.
Benji and Nat stick close behind Tank, with Aralie, Jules, and Cannon directly behind them. Big Tony gives Noah the clear. He gets out first and reaches a hand back for me. I grab my clutch and step out as ladylike as possible. I definitely should’ve gone with a longer dress, but this one was the most ‘night club’ of all the ones I brought with me.
As we make our way to the door, I hear the words, “There they are!” and without even looking up, I know it’s in reference to the boyband. A splash of white light hits my peripherals. I don’t think I could ever get used to that many camera flashes. Paparazzi must be out to blind celebrities these days.
“Just keep walking,” Noah says, leaning close to me. “They’re not allowed inside, so our main focus is to actually get inside.”
Milo and Chloe stop for the cameras, posing like the super couple they’re supposed to be, and as we pass by, I hear someone ask them about trouble in Saturn paradise. Chloe’s quick to shoot down the rumors. There is more shouting behind us as we push our way inside. The bouncer doesn’t bother to check IDs when we walk by. That’s definitely a perk.
“So do the paparazzi show up everywhere you go?” I shout to Noah over a thumping bass.
“Pretty much,” he shouts back. “They always get word of where we are, and everyone wants a piece of Chloe and Milo right now.”
Tank stakes out a back corner rounded booth and waves us over. I’d rather be on the dance floor, but Noah pushes through the crowd with Big Tony to get to the table.
“Oh my gahhhh,” a girl says far too loudly in my ear. “You’re Noah Winters! Can I get a picture?”
Big Tony pulls aside while Noah talks to the girl, asking if she’s ever been to one of their shows and what her favorite SAS song is. Instead of standing here awkwardly, I continue on toward the table and slide in next to Nat just in time to hear Benji’s diva fit.
“And then he said he didn’t give a damn if my name was Harry Houdini, I wasn’t getting in if I wasn’t on his list,” Benji says. “How is there anyone left in the world who doesn’t know who I am by now?”
Nat shifts his eyes toward me and then looks back at Benji. I hate to tell Mr. Priss but the main reason his brother wants to hang out with me is because I’m one of the few girls not screaming in his face. I’m sure it gets old, even if you’re thankful for the fans.
“You know, if I have to deal with this shit – all the special rules and regulations from management – the least these assholes could do is let me in the VIP section,” Benji says.
Nat rests his head on Benji’s shoulder. “I’ll let you in my VIP section,” he says.
Benji nudges Nat away and mumbles something about him not having a VIP section. I’m impressed with Nat’s unwavering attempts. I wonder if he considers himself to be a Saturnite. Tank tells Benji to enjoy himself tonight and leaves the table. He interrupts Noah’s hang out session with some fans and directs him back to us. Then the Cuban bodyguard makes his way to the dance floor alone. Big Tony follows Noah back to our table.
“How are the fangirls?” Nat asks. He pushes Benji with his arm, and Benji moves around the table enough to give Noah some room to slide in.
“They’re fans,” Noah corrects his brother. “They are fans of the music.”
“Oh please,” Nat says, holding up a hand to stop anything else Noah might say. “Fans say things like, ‘Hey, I loved your last album,’ and talk about their favorite songs. Fangirls scream, ‘Oh my gahhhh,’ and grab your arm in a flailing panic. Trust me. I know how it works.”
I shift my eyes to the door while Nat and Noah argue over fan wording. Chloe and Milo have made their way inside, but they stop to talk with Aralie and Jules instead of joining us.
“Will you just shut up?” Noah snaps.
“I’m trying to prove a point,” Nat says. “I mean, if I was just some normal guy and I saw Benji Baccarini on the street, I wouldn’t tell him I loved his album. I’d completely flip out and attack him like a crazed stalker. Tank would have to pry me off. That’s the difference.”
Neither Noah nor Benji respond. I doubt this is the first time they’ve heard something like this out of Nat’s mouth. Big Tony offers to buy drinks once the Branson sisters, their boyfriends, and Jules’s bodyguard Cannon arrive at the tabl
e. Noah uses this opportunity to leave my clutch in Milo’s possession and drag me to the dance floor with him.
“It was getting a bit crowded,” he says, pulling me close to him so no one else can hear him. “Plus, Benji’s about to get drunk, and I don’t want to be responsible for carrying him out of here.”
He takes my hand, spins me around, and pulls me up against him. The music vibrates through the floor. Strobe lights swirl around us, creating a colorful burst of lightning across the club. I really don’t care if Benji’s getting drunk or Milo steals my debit card because Noah’s eyes are too green to want to look at anything else in this room.
Chapter Six
Forty-five minutes later, Aralie is on the dance floor with Nat and Tank, and Milo is signing autographs and taking selfies around the room. Chloe and Jules seem miserable to be here, and Benji is way too talkative at our crowded back corner table.
“How drunk do you think he is?” Noah asks before we reach the others. “He’ll end up dancing with my brother tonight. Just watch. Once he gets drunk enough, he gets pissed about management’s rules, and all bets are off.”
I think it’s incredibly sad that Benji has his own set of rules. I thought after Justin Bieber and One Direction, management teams would loosen the reins on their superstars. I don’t see anyone saying that Harry Styles can’t have a girlfriend, and if I know Harry Styles’s name, then you know he’s more famous than Benji. I mean, really, what year is it again? Give the boy some freedom.
“And Tank told me to enjoy myself,” Benji mutters to Chloe. “How the hell can I enjoy myself when I’m on lockdown all the time? All I can do is go to night clubs and drink because God forbid I actually dance with someone.”
“Someone might snap a picture,” Chloe says, a bit of sarcasm in her voice. “Believe me, I know. Lockdown never ended for some of us.”
Benji takes another swig of beer. “You should go dance with Tank,” he tells her. “You could be tomorrow morning’s headline. Branson Sister Cheats on Boyfriend with Bodyguard in Plain Sight. It’s ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as these idiots not letting me into the VIP section.”
Benji orders Big Tony to get another round because he’s going to need more beer to survive tonight. Noah tells me that Benji doesn’t normally drink, but vacations aren’t much of a vacation for his band mate.
“It’s like a prison sentence,” Noah says. “We’re finally allowed to have some fun and take a break from interviews, touring, and everything in between, but for him, it’s always a charade. He’s Benji from SAS nonstop. There is no normalcy for him. Then we just make it worse by bringing him to the States where he’s not even old enough to buy alcohol.”
I sort of want to punch someone in the face, but I’m not sure who. Part of me wants to hit Benji for not grabbing his balls and manning up. If the other guys can do whatever the hell they want, so can he. Why doesn’t he just say something? But then I want to punch their manager for even setting these stupid guidelines. I know teenage girls all over the world love them and daydream about marrying them, but I’m certain that girls dream of marrying Jules, Milo, Noah, and Tate just as much as they do Benji.
“You should tell your management team to shove it,” I say to Benji when we reach the table. I’m livid that he has to live like this. I don’t care how famous he is. “People are going to talk no matter what you do. I mean, look at Chloe. She walks the line just the way everyone expects her to, and if you Google her name, all you see are cheating rumors.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have said that in front of her. I swap my stare from Benji to Chloe. “Sorry,” I say. “That came out all wrong.”
“No, it’s okay,” Chloe assures me. “I stopped Googling myself once the rumor mill decided I was the Saturn slut. You know, working on album art for a band and sleeping with their guitarist are basically one and the same.”
Hmmm. Maybe she does have a backbone after all. I imagined her to be a pushover, the kind of girl who does whatever it takes to please everyone else. I still think at one time, she was that way. Maybe all this Saturn insanity has gone too far for her.
I start to settle in when I notice the DJ heading out and a new one settling in. He rushes up the stairs into the coveted VIP section, cap turned sideways and an unshaven face. Normally, thugged out rugged boys aren’t my type, but a year and a half ago, he was clean shaven and a little more punk rock – sort of like Noah.
And a year and a half ago, I may have spent a drunken night skinny dipping with him. Then we may have moved the action from the water to his bedroom in that ancient apartment building. And that night may have reoccurred a few times, with slight changes here and there.
Luckily, we ended it on good terms. We weren’t ever really a thing anyway. I don’t even know if I’d have called us friends with benefits, but we were friends, and there were benefits, so maybe. I’m about to find out if we’re still friends and if I can possibly help my new friends benefit from it.
“Hey, I’ll be right back,” I tell Noah.
I don’t give him a chance to question me. I dash toward the VIP area, but I know I won’t be getting in without my name on that list. It’s the same guy from earlier who refused Benji, so I don’t have a shot in hell.
I follow the railing on the bottom level, trying to keep up with him, until he stops at the DJ booth. I have about five seconds to get his attention before I’m dragged out of here by security, so I pull myself up onto the railing.
“Adam!” I shout, hoping he can hear me over the club music. He spins around, a bit confused, so I yell his name again and wave my arm like a flailing fangirl.
His eyes light up, and he smiles like he’s just run into an old friend. Definitely a good sign. He ducks down and hugs me, the railing between us.
“Marisol Cruz,” he says, shaking his head. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Spring break,” I tell him.
“Here? You’re more of a big city kind of girl,” he says.
I shrug as best as I can while hanging on to the rail. “Los Angeles plans fell through,” I say. “This was my only real option. Any way you think you could get my friends and me into the VIP area?”
“Done deal,” he says. “Go get them. I’ll meet you over by the stairs.”
He makes his way back to the ‘man with the list’ while I hurry back to our suddenly crappy table. I’ll kill two birds with this stone – make Benji’s night a little more enjoyable and cross off item number four (get into a VIP section). I seriously figured that one would happen in a restaurant, but this works even better. I make a mental note to update the list when I get back to the hotel because I haven’t even marked off item number three – meet a celebrity. I have a list of celebs to choose from. I wonder who Hilary has met.
“I have awesome news,” I announce, looking at Benji more than Noah. “I may sort of know the DJ who is taking over the midnight hour, and he’s going to get us into the VIP section.”
Benji tackle hugs me when he gets out of the booth and then tells Noah that he should keep me. I’m not completely sure what that means, but as long as he sticks with me this week, that’ll work for me. We head back over to the stairs, where we get stamped with the VIP stamp and Benji smarts off to the guy with the list.
Adam plays it cool when I introduce him to Noah, and I decide not to tell Noah the extent of how well I know the DJ. Instead, I drag Noah back to the dance floor – on the VIP level – and bask in the glory of my accomplishment. I can’t deny that I’m proud of myself. I got us in here when Spaceships Around Saturn couldn’t even do it. Can I count that toward something on the list?
“So, I have to ask,” Noah says, leaning closer to me and making it hard not to basically wrap myself around him in front of all these people. “Exactly who the hell are you?”
I crack up because I’m not even sure what he means by that.
“I’m serious,” he says, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me to him. “You got us into the VIP
section. Are you locally famous?”
“Maybe I’m locally infamous,” I say, just to see his reaction.
“Well, that would explain how you know the DJ. He looks like he could have an infamous side to him,” Noah says. He laughs immediately after, which lightens the mood.
“I’m not even local,” I admit. “I live two hours from here. My spring break plans weren’t supposed to be in Crescent Cove, but things went down and plans changed. I used to date Adam – nothing serious.”
Noah pulls me against him, and with this ‘grind on me’ kind of music, that’s not the smartest idea because I could easily take advantage of the moment. I’m not sure what that would do to his reputation, and frankly, I don’t even care.
“Serious enough to get us into the VIP section,” he says, giving me this ‘uh-huh, I know better’ kind of look. “But I don’t even care because he’s spinning records and you’re with me.”
Not the jealous type? Hell yes. Can I keep this guy? I already have Benji’s vote, and that should count for double points since Noah’s brother is clearly obsessed with him. Plus, Noah doesn’t seem to have the strict rules that are placed on Benji and apparently Chloe. I could totally ease into this life.
And I only have a week to prove it.
I’m not even sure how late – or early – it is when we drag ourselves out of the VIP section and toward the exit of Lights Out. I definitely should’ve worn better dancing shoes. Benji stumbles next to me, but Nat catches him before he faceplants on the sidewalk. We seriously should’ve taken the drinks away once we moved to the VIP area. Noah was right, though – Benji got drunk enough that he even let Nat drag him onto the dance floor. Of course, it didn’t last long because Benji couldn’t even see straight, but nonetheless, Noah’s prediction won.
