If the sportscasting thing happened, I’d ask him for hair tips. Hopefully it wasn’t susceptible to melting under TV studio lights.
Jameson practically bounded down the aisles. He’d stopped by the first merch table we’d seen, even though Hunter told him there’d be one with a lot fewer people exclusively for those with floor seating.
We found our seats. Five minutes before the start of the show, someone showed up with a tray of multicolored cups, and Hunter passed them down to our group.
The wristbands we’d gotten in our VIP packs flashed in time to the drummers count-off. The flashes flared in quicker rhythm as the floor rumbled under our feet.
Overhead, the lights roamed the crowd before zeroing back in on the front of the stage. The band took the stage one by one, amping up the crowd with each entrance. They launched into their biggest hit of the year so far. Although I didn’t listen to Without Grey much, the words had been imprinted on me by almost constant airplay and even a movie and commercial placement.
Zara stared up at the stage. The lights reflecting off her eyes and she glanced over at me with a wide grin. “This is amazing!” she shouted over the driving blaring music wrapping her fingers around my arm.
Whatever favor Hunter called in for scoring me another ticket was one hundred percent worth it for the look on her face.
We were on our feet for an hour and a half and I only felt even more energized when the band finished their second encore.
Hunter huddled up our group as rows of seats emptied behind us. “There’s an after party, but we don’t have to go.”
“Where is it? A hotel suite?” Everest clenched and unclenched his fists.
“Backstage. They put together a makeshift nightclub to celebrate the end of the tour.”
Jameson leapt forward. “Yes.” Covering his mouth, he cleared his throat and looked back at the rest of us. “I mean, I’m good with whatever the rest of the group wants to do. We don’t have to go. It’s just that I haven’t had a whole night to myself in five months, and I might never get another chance to party with my favorite ban., But I’m cool with doing whatever everyone else wants.”
August shook his head. “Real subtle.”
“What are the odds Madison and the rest of the band will even be there? They’ve probably got a private party going on somewhere else.”
Everest made a noise. It was a cross between distress and full-on berserker rage. The only place I’d heard it before was in Milwaukee, and we all knew how that had turned out.
I looped my arm around the back of Jameson’s neck. “Maybe we go and you stay.”
Everest piped up, ruining my attempt to deflect us from a train wreck. “No, we should all go.”
“Dude—”
“What? Let’s all go to the fucking party,” he snapped.
Zara came down the aisle, rejoining the group and adjusting her bag across her chest. “Hey, where to next?”
“After party.” Everest took off, following the few people headed toward a line of burly security guards scrutinizing laminates.
Zara leaned in closer, and the silky-smooth fabric of her dress brushed against my arm, raising goosebumps even though it was still piping hot as we got closer to the backstage area. “Is everything okay?
We walked down a black-fabric-lined temporary hallway. Darkness blanketed us except for the light at either end of the long walkway to the after party. “Ghosts. That’s all.”
She grabbed onto my arm and looked up into the rafters. “What?” Her head whipped from side to side and her steps collided with mine.
“Figurative ones from Everest’s past. Not actual ones.”
Her grip loosened slightly, but she kept her hands around my arm. And I didn’t mind one bit. Becoming someone she could depend on or use as a human shield against poltergeists was a role I could settle into quite easily. The floating stage floor under our feet rumbled the closer we got to the end of the long stretch. Music and lights strobed, and people milled behind the velvet ropes.
It was familiar and foreign all at once. I hadn’t been much into partying once I’d gone pro. It went stale pretty damn fast when you knew most people were only looking for a free drink or an even longer 18-year free ride. Those parties had been non-existent once I’d been injured.
“I need a drink.” Everest broke off from our group rushing the bar the second the security guard finished checking our credentials. They took this shit as seriously as anyone on the sidelines at the games had. Maybe more. I didn’t expect any streakers to come blazing across the room, though, and if they did, I didn’t think they’d get tackled to the ground. More like handed a drink and helped up onto a table to perform.
The bartender poured Everest a drink. He power-chugged it and made a motion to keep them coming.
Zara slid up next to me. “He’s really thirsty.”
August thwipped his backstage-pass laminate against his palm, keeping his gaze on Everest. “He’s something.”
Hunter took the lead, pointing to the far end of the pop-up room. “Our booth should be over there, I’ll go get us all some drinks before Everest drains the bar.”
We found our booth. Zara slid in and I sat beside her.
“How the hell does Hunter do this?” Zara leaned in close her lips less than an inch from my ear. A flush of desire thumped through my veins. Fuck, that outfit on her was insane. It was an everyday outfit, but on her an award show dress couldn’t have looked better. It hugged her body. Teasing me with a neckline that made me want to run my tongue along the curve of her breast down to the nipple—
My head shot up, and so did my dick. I dropped my hands into my lap to adjust the growing new arrival beckoned by my daydreams about Zara.
“He’s always had a way of getting whatever anyone needed. Asking too many questions would only get us an answer we wouldn’t like, so we don’t. But it was handy for the guys in college. He had a way of opening doors no matter where they went.”
“A modern magician.” She looked around the table at the rest of the guys. “It was a great show, wasn’t it?”
“Amazing.” August said, distractedly scanning the room full of beautiful people, bottles of champagne, and one impressive food display.
Jameson looked around with a huge smile on his face, like a kid out on his first field trip. “They said they’re heading into the studio in a couple months, after a break. Twenty-three months. That’s how long they’ve been on tour. It’s all on the back of our laminate.” He held it up and the mini spotlights from the dance floor caught the heated plastic, nearly blinding us all. We needed to get him out more.
“I’m sure their break will be quite relaxing.” Everest had a death grip on his tumbler. Ballsy of a place like this to have actual glasses. I’d expected plastic beer bottles and red Solo cups, but they’d taken a step up in the world. Were those King crab legs?
I leaned over to Zara. “We should find out who the caterer is.”
She jumped and looked to me. “Are you reading my mind? I thought the same thing when I saw the seafood display.”
I was rewarded with a huge smile. “They’ve kept the club vibe.” I looked up at the exposed rafters, lighting and tech dangling high above our heads. “But a bit of color would’ve brought it all together. Maybe something from their album work.”