I heard the rumor going around about a record executive showing up tonight, but not the record executive.
Dude is a motherfucking legend in the music world. Hell, the world in general. He’s the name behind some of the greatest rock legends on the planet.
The adrenaline surging through me quickly turns to a nauseating mixture of anxiety and dread.
We’re so fucked.
“What the fuck are we gonna do?” Storm grunts, echoing my thoughts. “We can’t just go out there and play a bunch of covers. Without original music, there’s no way in hell he’d even think twice about us.”
He’s right.
While I’m confident in both mine and Storm’s capabilities, it won’t be enough. He’s not gonna be impressed by us performing another band’s greatest hits…no matter how fucking good we are.
He wants originality. Something rare and unique.
Something special.
The dread and anxiety coiling in my gut kicks up a few notches.
Because I have exactly what he’s looking for…
It’s just gonna cost me the only person who’s ever believed in me.
I hate the forked road I find myself standing in front of, but only one of those roads will lead me to my dreams.
An opportunity like this comes once in a lifetime...if you’re lucky.
I have to take it.
Blowing out a breath, I turn to Storm. “I’ve been working on something.”
Storm’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Way to wait for the last fucking minute to tell me.”
“I’ll give you the rundown, but we don’t have time to rehearse, so you’ll have to follow along while we’re up there. Drums are heavy at the end.”
Normally it wouldn’t be an issue because we’re always in sync, but this is completely new material.
Despite looking uneasy, he gives me a nod. “I can work with that.”
With those words, I know there’s no going back and our fate has been sealed.
I just hope like hell it will be worth it.
Taking out my phone, I use the voice-to-text option and hit send.
CHAPTER 18
LENNON
I finish putting on another layer of lip gloss and close my compact. Once again, I enlisted Mrs. Palma’s help with my makeup and hair, and she did an amazing job.
Instead of nerdy Lennon, I’m now cute and—dare I say—sexy Lennon.
Only this time, while she worked her magic, I gushed about Phoenix and she squealed like she was the teenage girl dating the hottest guy in Hillcrest.
She also assured me that my dad would come around eventually. He just needs a little more time to deal with his baby girl growing up.
I smooth down my dress as I step out of the Uber. It’s the same one I wore to the graduation party, but since Phoenix never saw it sans pig slop and it makes me feel confident, I figured it was a solid choice.
There’s already a line out the door as I walk up to the venue. I had planned on getting here earlier, but Mrs. Palma decided at the last minute that my hair needed more oomph and whipped out her curling iron.
Fortunately, they don’t go on until ten, which means I still have approximately seventeen minutes to get my booty inside.
Some people grumble behind me as I make my way to the front of the line.
Being the girlfriend of a lead singer definitely has its perks.
“Hey,” I greet the grumpy-looking man standing at the entrance. “My name is Lennon Michael. Sharp Objects put me on their backstage list.”
After briefly scanning the paper in his hand, he gives me a lanyard. “Here’s your pass.” He hikes a thumb behind him. “Down the hallway, third door on the left.”
The place is buzzing when I open the door and I let myself revel in the fact that I get to go backstage as I cut across the main floor and turn down a long hallway.
I find Storm furiously banging on one of the doors. “What the fuck are you doing in there, asshole?”
Uh-oh. That can’t be good.
“Everything okay?” I question as I sidle up beside him.
“No,” he grunts. “Your man has been in there for the last fifteen minutes.” He bangs on the wood. “And he won’t open the fucking door.”
Oh, shit. Maybe he’s nervous.
Granted, Phoenix doesn’t strike me as the type to get cold feet before a performance, but fear can strike at any time and happen to anyone.
Closing my eyes, I press my forehead against the mahogany panel, willing him to feel just how much faith I have in him. “You got this, Phoenix. You’re gonna kill it tonight. I believe in—”
The door opens…only it isn’t my boyfriend standing on the other side of it.
It’s Sabrina.
“Sorry.” Crinkling her nose, she gives me a smug smirk. “We were busy.”
I stand there paralyzed…aside from my heart, that feels like it’s cracking into a thousand tiny pieces.
Each and every one of those tiny pieces slices through me when I shoot my gaze past her and see Phoenix doing up his fly.
This can’t be happening.
My heart, desperate to put itself back together again tries to come up with a feeble excuse in an attempt to reconcile how the guy I lost my virginity to less than twenty-four hours ago—the guy who said he wanted to pursue this and talked about forty-four-hour drives—is the same one I’m staring at.
Every part of my body is screaming at me to turn around and walk away. To preserve what little dignity I have left.
Fuck that.
This cut is too deep to pretend like it doesn’t hurt like hell.
If he didn’t want to be with me, he never should have led me to think otherwise.
Despite how much I wanted him, I was more than willing to be friends. Because I had long accepted that it was all we’d ever be.
Until he made me believe we could be more.
That a girl like me could get a guy like him.
Which can only mean one thing.
Our relationship—both the friendship and sexual parts—were nothing but a sick little game to him.
Rage mixed with agony is a violent tidal wave ripping through my body as I trek inside.
I could call him an asshole and tell him how much he hurt me.
I could ask him why.
But none of it matters…because it won’t change what he did or take away this pain.
“I never want to see you again. Ever.”
For the very first time, I don’t want to get closer to the sun.
I want out of his atmosphere. For good.
He takes a step forward—almost like he wanted to reach out and touch me—before he edges away and focuses his attention on something behind me. “I’ll text you later, Sabrina.”
Whatever self-control I had snaps and I kick him in the balls so hard he keels over and Storm mutters ouch under his breath.
That doesn’t give me the vindication I was seeking, though, so I grab the large pitcher of soda resting on the table and pour it over his head. This way when he goes on stage, he’ll feel foolish and humiliated…just like I do right now.
“I hate you.”
With that, I walk out…and the first tear falls.
They don’t stop falling as I march out of the venue, trudge down the street, and call my dad.