We find a dressing room and put on men’s shirts and denim short shorts. I grab a top hat and Sidney grabs a feather boa. We head to the stage from behind the curtain and Sidney is laughing way too much. Her face is still bright crimson and she’s muttering the same words over and over again. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
When we step out onto the stage, I raise my voice. “Hey, Trystan, hit the lights.” I hear him grumble, but the guy moves. A few seconds later some of the stage lights pop up so it’s not pitch black, and then a spot light appears. It’s so bright that I have to shield my eyes if I want to look for Trystan out there. “Thanks.” No one answers. Great, now he hates me, too.
“He’ll come around,” Sidney says, reading my thoughts.
I turn and look at her, offering a half smile. I glance at our outfits. The large men’s shirts cover the short shorts. I unbutton the bottom of my shirt and tie it under my boobs and tell Sidney to do the same. I expect her to protest, but she doesn’t. Music kicks on from somewhere and I smile. Sidney and I dance together for a little bit. She’s laughing and blushing like crazy. I tell her to slow down her moves and suddenly she’s dancing like a goddess. It’s awesome. The girl has no clue how sexy she is. Add the huge smile on her face and that long hair and no wonder Peter is crazy about her.
I stand there for a second, watching her dip her head back and sway her hips. She giggles and looks over at me. “I suck at this.”
“No, you don’t. You’re actually really good.” I laugh with her and say, “Watch this.” I head over to the pole and basically do the same dance. I feel the music pulse through me and don’t care who’s watching me.
Glancing over at Sidney, I see her swish her hair in a circle and copy the movement with her hips. She laughs and looks over at me just in time to see me grab the pole, and kick my legs up. I wrap my thighs around the cold metal and lock my ankles together, before releasing my hands, and hanging upside down. As I slowly slip down the pole I reach for the floor, and when my palms find a firm footing, I kick off the pole and land on my feet. I put my hands over my head like a gymnast and smile.
That’s when I hear Mel’s voice. “I leave you alone for a couple of hours and you start stripping?” I hear her heels hitting the hard floor as she walks toward us. “What the f**k is going on here?”
“Mel?” I shield my eyes and walk to the edge of the stage. Sidney stops dancing and Trystan stands up, ready to throw her out. I hop off and plow into her. Wrapping my arms around her, I say, “I’m so glad you’re all right. I thought you—” My jaw tightens and I can’t say the words. I can’t tell her that I thought I lost her.
“Who is this?” Trystan demands. He folds his arms over his chest and looks back at the door where the others are still talking, and occasionally yelling.
Mel escapes my death hug and rounds on him, ready to tell him off. “Don’t you go talking to me like I’m some…” Her jaw drops when she sees Trystan. Mel’s caramel eyes widen and don’t blink.
I poke her shoulder. “Mel, this is Trystan. He hates Sean.”
“So do I,” she mutters.
I say, “Yeah, well, then you guys have something in common.”
Trystan smirks, and then clarifies. “Why is she here?”
“Because I told her to come.”
Trystan sighs and looks up at the ceiling before running his hands over his head. “Great. Jon’s going to kill me. No one is supposed to be out here but me and Sidney, and I told his bouncer to go home. I assume Sean’s coming?” Trystan turns his gaze to me and I nod. “Great.” He turns and walks away, flopping back down onto the chair.
Mel is gaping and pointing. “That’s Trystan Scott.”
“I know. Are you all right? What happened?”
She doesn’t look at me. “That’s Trystan Scott. Like, thee Trystan Scott. Here.”
Oh my God. How cute. Mel is star stuck. She stands there like a twelve-year-old, practically giddy. I look her over and don’t see any gaping wounds. There’s no blood, and her brain has obviously left her body. “Listen, tonight kind of sucked. Grab a drink and join us on stage when you get over your whole boy band crush.”
“I’m not a boy band.” Trystan glares at me with his mouth scrunched to the side.
I smirk. “Of course not.”
Trystan’s lips twitch as he tries not to smile, or curse me out—it’s getting hard to tell which one. I walk over to our table and pour another shot for each of us, before walking it over to him. His long legs are sprawled over the arm of the chair like a surly teenager. I hold out the glass.
His dark eyes stare at the drink for a beat too long, but he finally takes it. “Just for the record,” he says, staring at the floor, “I admire you.” His gaze flicks up and he lifts his glass.
What changed? I’m not about to ruin it and ask him. Maybe he has rock star PMS. “Well, coolness.” I smile at him, sincerely this time, and look at my shot glass. “And just for the record, I’m a total fangirl. Your music is awesome, plus you have guts. So, I guess I admire you, too.” I lift my face so he’s looking right at me. “Truce? Or is it too late?” I hold out my hand, hoping he’ll shake it.
That smirk teases his lips into a full grin. “I couldn’t hate the future Mrs. Ferro, not when it’ll piss off Sean to know exactly how much I like you.” He laughs, clinks his glass to mine, and downs his drink. I do the same and head back to the stage.
As I pass Mel, she’s still staring at Trystan, muttering to herself. “Well, don’t just stand there, go say hi.” I smack her back towards him.
Mel walks over to him like he’s made of magic, as if the illusion will disappear if she moves too fast. Her voice is uncharacteristically soft. “Oh my God—it’s Trystan Scott.”
CHAPTER 8
Sidney and I are laughing hysterically, dancing on the stage, each of us with a drink in hand, when I feel eyes on us. Mel’s been blabbering at Trystan for the past half an hour, going on and on, rambling and poking him like he’s a mirage. It’s kind of funny. Nothing fazes her, but put a rock star in the room and she’s gone brain dead. Trystan takes it well enough. He just laughs and pats the arm of the chair and tells her to sit.
Then, two things happen at the same time. Mel’s spine straightens—I see her out of the corner of my eye—she’s a curve of shadow. And then, the rigidness turns to mush and she falls. I stop dancing and stare past her—there are also more shadows moving in the back of the room—people that I didn’t see before.
Trystan scoops up Mel and sets her down in his chair. “Avery, your friend didn’t even drink anything.” He looks up at me and then at the back of the room. “Hey, guys.” Even with my hand shading my eyes, I can’t see who’s back there, not past the glare of the spotlight.
“Avery?” a familiar voice asks, walking toward me. “What on earth have you done to Sidney?” Peter Ferro, uh Granz, walks toward me quickly. I lower myself and hang my legs off the side of the stage. The room tips a little bit and I blink hard. Peter seems tense, and in that moment he reminds me of Sean. Damn, it’s late. When is Sean going to get here?
“Nothing,” I reply. “She asked about stripping, so we’ve been dancing.” I grin broadly at him. “Ask her to show you what she can do with the pole.”
Sidney giggles and nearly doubles over. Peter looks up at her. “Is she drunk?” Peter’s head snaps back toward Trystan with a pissed off glare and he could easily double as Sean in that moment.
Trystan is fanning Mel, trying to get her to wake up. “Don’t look at me. They’re the ones that swallowed.”
All of a sudden, Sidney starts laughing. It’s way too loud, and she realizes that no one else thought the line was dirty, so she slaps her hands over her mouth and cuts off the sound. Peter rubs the heels of his hands over his eyes and sighs.
I feel sheepish. “I’m sorry, Peter.”
“It’s not your fault.” He smiles up at his bride-to-be. “Come on, cupcake. Let’s take you home.”
Peter holds up a hand, and Sidney walks over to the edge of the stage. The way she looks at him is the perfect combination of lust and adoration. The emotion is so raw, so intense, that I avert my eyes and look at the floor. Peter’s wearing saddle shoes, black on brown, and vintage from the look of them. She sits next to me, and then Peter reaches up for her. She slips into his arms and he holds her like that, and walks to the door, whispering things that make Sidney giggle softly.
My head tilts to the side and I’m repressing the urge to say, awh.
There’s a sweet smile on my face as the rest of the people come into view. One guy is tall and built, with dark hair, and bright green eyes. There’s a wicked grin on his face as his eyes travel over my body. “Hey, stripper girl. I have some ones. Wanna have a fun time?” The guy that’s with him slaps Green Eyes in the back of the head. “What?”
“Sean will kill you.” As the man steps toward me, I see the resemblance. The dark Ferro hair and bright blue eyes, the lopsided grin, and perfectly smooth skin. He looks like a younger version of Sean. “I’m Jonathan Ferro. This a**hole is my cousin, Bryan.” He jabs his thumb at him. There’s a girl behind him wearing a blazer and a blanket and not much else. She won’t meet my gaze.
“I’m Avery Stanz. I’m—”
“She’s my fiancée.” Sean’s voice booms from the back of the room. No one heard him come in, but everyone turns to look at him.
CHAPTER 9
I slip off the stage and rush at him, darting around empty chairs and tables. The strain on his face is horrible. I can’t imagine what he’s been through tonight, what horrors came flashing to the front of his mind. Without a word, I fling my arms around his neck while the others gasp and whisper.
I kiss his cheek and plaster my palms to the sides of his face, forcing him to turn his tired eyes on me. “Are you all right? What happened?”
There are dark circles under his eyes and the tension in his neck and shoulders makes his body feel like stone. Leaning in close to my ear, he whispers, “Not now.” I stay there like that for a second, and then peel myself off of him even though every urge I have says to hang on tight and never let go.
Sean walks past me and glares at his brother. “Well?”
Jon steps up to him. Damn they look alike, but Jonathan doesn’t have the fine lines etched into his face. “Sean, this isn’t your concern.”
“I see. So, you’re going to piss away your future. Good plan.”
Jonathan stiffens and gets in Sean’s face. “Since when do you care?”
Sean laughs, but it sounds more like Jonathan shoved a stake through his heart. Sean doesn’t reply this time. Instead, he shakes his head and turns away, taking me by the hand and leading me backstage. He yells over his shoulder, “Your decisions are as abysmal as the company you keep.”