The music started, and we launched into the first song. You could barely hear our voices over the screams of the crowd. That only spurred us on, and we gave a vibrant performance reminiscent of the days when we’d been at the top of the charts. It felt good. Natural. I even tried to pants Bodhi on stage, for old times’ sake.
Looking to my left, then to my right, I couldn’t help but smile. Damn, I’d missed this. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine we were back on the tour bus, exhilarated and exhausted after our first stadium concert—fresh-faced teenagers experiencing our first taste of fame. It was from those humble beginnings that we’d forged our tight bonds. Everything had been so new. So exciting. But somewhere along the way, it lost its shine. Tonight was a reminder of who we were and where we were all going—separately, but never far from one another.
The after-party was a who’s who of Hollywood and the hottest ticket in town. Most who came had no direct connection to the earthquake, nor had they been touched by the destruction it wrought. Yes, they’d felt it and had tweeted about it, but their lives had moved on just like before. Hell, had I ridden out the quake in my mansion, I probably would’ve come to this party, plunking down an impressive amount of money to show I cared—even if I really couldn’t give a shit.
But, hey, I wasn’t knocking these people for coming. Their presence generated publicity for the event, which, in turn, brought in private donations from across the world. And then it would be up to Dani and her team of Lucky Swimmers Club volunteers to dole out the money to those most in need.
Me and the guys made our entrance into the after-party an hour late. As part of the documentary for the band, the camera crew filmed our reunion concert then conducted the final interviews before sending us on our way. When we entered the room, there was a different energy. Instead of snickering behind our boy band backs, our peers cheered us. It was almost as if we’d gone from jokes in the industry to legends overnight. And for a second time in just over an hour, we got a standing ovation.
“What the hell is going on here?” Shawn asked, smiling and waving.
“No clue,” Bodhi replied.
“Are we…” Dane stopped to mull over the words. “Suddenly cool?”
“Either that or they’re mocking us,” Hunter said.
“It’s the natural evolution of a boy band,” I said. “Puberty plus eight, divided by a natural disaster or two, equals legends.”
Dani wasn’t hard to find in her sparkling silver dress and bouncy hair swept to one side, held in place with Swarovski crystal claw clips. When it had come time to pick her outfit for tonight’s gala event, she’d worried it was too much, that glitter and shine was not her, but I’d disagreed. Every ball needed a princess, and there was no one more worthy of the title than her.
She’d saved me a seat at her table, and I squished in next to Parker.
“You made it,” I said, shaking his hand.
“Dani did promise me VIP passes for life, so I figured I’d come collect.”
“And this is Marissa,” Dani said, snuggling closer to me with a teasing smile on her face. “Isn’t it cute? Our little Peter Parker has his first real girlfriend.”
“Again”—Parker laughed—“not a teenager.”
“Sure. Sure.” She winked, her whole face contracting.
“Hey, RJ,” Charlie called from across the table. “Shouldn’t you be at the cool kids’ table?”
I glanced around, and aside from Parker, Marissa, my brother Manny, every other person occupying the seven tables around us was one of Dani’s sperm siblings and their significant others. The Lucky Swimmers Club had taken over my life, and they just kept growing in numbers, thanks to Dani’s notoriety following the earthquake. It had spurred countless articles about her unusual beginnings and pushed the LSC into the forefront of artificially inseminated insanity.
But while they’d become the butt of a good many jokes, The Lucky Swimmers Club was no laughing matter. Not only had they rallied around Dani in her time of need, but they were also at the forefront of the fundraising efforts for the relief fund. These people were more than just friends to me. They’d become my surrogate family.
“Nah,” I replied. “I’m just where I want to be.”
30
Dani: Romantic Gesture
Bing. Bing. Bing.
I grabbed my phone to shut off the alarm, confused by why it was going off in the first place. After last night’s event, this was supposed to be a sleep-all-day type of morning.
A yellow sticky note was clinging to my phone screen. It read, You have fifteen minutes to meet me in the kitchen.
I smiled. Uh-oh. RJ was being romantic again. This ought to be good. I always enjoyed watching him stumble around the art of wooing as if it were such a foreign concept to him. Some of my favorite romantic gestures included ‘chick-flick movie night,’ where RJ suffered through each and every film, or the ‘no strings attached’ backrub that always ended in his favor. He’d even once claimed putting the toilet seat down was a romantic gesture that needed rewarding. But I got it. RJ wasn’t used to trying. Women had always seduced him, not the other way around.
I hopped out of bed and quickly did my business, contemplating getting more ‘picture ready’ for my surprise but sort of liking my fresh-out-of-bed look. After last night’s benefit concert, I’d only managed to get out of my dress and pull on a pair of cute pajamas before collapsing on top of the mattress, never to be heard from again. The makeup I hadn’t removed from my face last night was looking a little rough this morning, but once I wiped the mascara smudges off from under my eyes, I honestly wasn’t looking half bad.
I found RJ in the kitchen exactly fifteen minutes later. He was at the stove, in an apron, making eggs. Overwhelmed with affection for this man, I wrapped my arms around his waist and dug my appreciative head into his back.
“You’re on time,” he said, twisting to kiss me.
“I’m always on time.”
“Well, you definitely slept well last night.”
“Is that code for ‘You were snoring’?”
“If you were, do you think I’d say anything after the last time?” he asked.
RJ was referring to the time he’d woken me from a dead sleep to inform me that I was snoring. I’d replied in a deep, manly roar, “Whaddaya want me to do about it?”
Since then, he’d let sleeping bears lie.
RJ removed the eggs from the heat and put his spatula down. He then turned around to give me a proper hug. I tipped my head up for my kisses, easily falling under his spell. It was hard to believe we’d once been warring neighbors. I couldn’t remember ever not loving him.
“Now, go. Sit down,” he said, swatting my butt. “I’ll serve you.”
“Wow, so domesticated. Who knew all it would take to turn Chad Woodcock into a real live human being was the love of a good woman?”
“Well,” he demurred. “That and a 7.1 magnitude earthquake.”
“Ehh.” I waved off his suggestion. “That too, I suppose.”