Best Of Everything (25 page)

“We’ll lock it in the trunk of my rental car,” Ashton says.

“I’m not really dressed for anyplace fancy,” I say, looking down at my usual outfit – all black, of course, my one extravagance the new pair of red Converses I’m sporting.

“Casual’s the new formal,” Ashton intones.

“It is not. You just made that up,” I say.

Melody snorts. “Sage, you’re a frigging rock star. You can walk into a club wearing a burlap sack and set a trend. Relax. If it’s really bothering you, we can swing by the motel and you can wear some of my clothes.” She studies me doubtfully, then considers herself. “I mean, I probably have something that would fit, even though I’m…taller.”

Bruno looks her up and down. “You certainly are.”

She beams like a pageant winner, and I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head. Bruno, Ashton, Sebastian…so many hotties, so little time.

“Hey, if you don’t mind being seen with me looking like I just fought my way out of the closet putting on clothes, no problem. I’m just raising the point,” I say.

“I think you look great,” Ashton says, and blood rushes to my face. I’m totally not fishing for compliments, and I wonder if I’m coming off as all girly and needy. His electric blue eyes meet mine, and I feel a crackle of energy.

“Well, if it’s dark wherever we go, maybe nobody will notice my hobo wear.”

Bruno smiles. “Then it’s settled. How do you want to do this? Pull the car around and we’ll see if we can sneak out? We should wait till the lot’s cleared, though. It’ll be a while.”

We agree to let the crowd thin, and follow Bruno to his dressing room. His band has mostly cleared out, Jerome being one of the exceptions. He’s talking to a stunningly beautiful redhead who can’t be any older than I am. He looks up as we enter, and holds a bottle of beer aloft in a toast.

“Yo, boss man. You forget something?” he asks.

“Nah. Me and some of my friends are going to hang for a while. We got anything left to drink, or did the groupies clean us out?” Every night there are dozens of young women vying for the musicians’ attention. I’ve quickly gotten used to it and mind my own business. Jay and the rest of my band get their share of admirers, and if I were single and male, I can’t say I wouldn’t be enjoying that perk.

Which stops me in my tracks. I can’t help but think of Derek. First show tomorrow night. Sexy as a centerfold and no girlfriend anywhere to be seen. I mean, I know we’re together, and he knows too, but will that matter to some chick who wants to bag him for bragging rights?

The closest I’ve come to agonizing over it was when he was out with Serena at that club – and that was nothing compared to the sea of willing flesh that makes it backstage, I now know. I don’t really care whether a bunch of chicks want to throw themselves at some dude because they saw him in a magazine, but when it’s my guy we’re talking about…

I realize I’m breathing too fast, practically hyperventilating, and I sit down. Jerome’s putting the final close on his new friend, which doesn’t require a lot of effort given that she’s had to pull some amazing stunts to land backstage, if the stories are true. I consider her eager smile and her body language and decide they are.

Which makes me feel sick as I connect the dots on what Derek’s tour is going to be like. I mean, I completely trust him, but he’s only human. And male.

I go to the bathroom and call his cell, but he doesn’t answer. Of course not. It’s probably loud at his release party, or wherever he went after – New York’s three hours ahead, so it’s three in the morning there.

Maybe he’s asleep. That’s probably where he is. His first big show tomorrow, it would be the smart choice.

I can’t believe I’m stressing now over whether Derek will make the smart choice every single night, as I have. I’m supposed to trust him, and here I am condemning him like he’s drooling over every groupie within reach. I’m just talking myself down when a couple more young women poke their heads into the room and smile broadly at Ashton and Bruno as I exit the bathroom.

“Hey, guys! How cool that you’re still here!” one of them says as she struts in, her vinyl pants and Victoria’s corset-top bouncing with her. She glares at Melody, sizing her up as competition, and dismisses me out of hand before doing a double-take as she recognizes me.

Bruno shrugs her off, his attitude all business. “Sorry, ladies. This is a private party. Might want to see who’s out by the bus.”

“We can make it even more of a party,” the girl’s friend tries, but Bruno shakes his head.

“’Fraid not tonight. Like I said, your best bet’s on the bus.” Both girls’ faces fall.

The vinyl pants girl points at Ashton. “Whoa. Aren’t you that TV dude? Ashton, right?”

Bruno moves toward them and speaks in a hushed voice. “Let’s not make me call security, okay? Again, this is a private party, and you weren’t invited.”

They get the message. After ugly looks at Melody, who I can tell they’re sure could have been them if they’d arrived earlier, they click out on impossibly high heels, which snick like pistol shots as they move down the cement hallway.

Bruno twists the lock on the door and shakes his head. “Now, where were we?”

By the time we’re ready to leave, I’ve talked myself down a bit. Derek’s a good man and more than used to having women fawn over him. Just because they do it on the road won’t change who he is. If there’s any male in the world I can trust, it’s Derek. Right?

We wait in the security area while Ashton gets the car. Bruno and Melody take the back, while I ride shotgun. I wonder what the hordes of fans still waiting hopefully by the bus would think if they knew who the anonymous gray Ford sedan was ferrying.

“So where we going, big man?” Bruno asks.

“Down SoMo way,” Ashton says.

“Come again?”

“South of Market. There are some happening clubs there. Should be just starting up by now.”

The club we wind up at is basically a warehouse in a borderline sketchy neighborhood I wouldn’t have gone near after dark when I was living here. When you get into this area of town, it can literally go from okay to war zone in a matter of a block. So I hope Ashton knows what he’s doing. He parks in the packed lot after withstanding the hard glare of a security guard, and we spill out.

Bass is thumping from the building and there’s a line of pretty people waiting to get in. But being Ashton is like having a magic key that opens all doors. The head bouncer recognizes both him and Bruno. Nobody shows any interest in carding us even though Melody and I are clearly not anywhere close to twenty-one, and we slip through the VIP entrance as the spectators watch mutely.

Inside there are about a thousand people in the gloom, glittering like only young money can. A tall man with a shaved head and a headset approaches with a smile and shakes hands with Ashton, who introduces us to him – Jamal, the manager. Jamal guides us to a booth near the DJ, swiping the Reserved sign from the tabletop like it’s offensive.

Ashton slips into the booth, and after a moment’s hesitation I slide in next to him. If I was worried about being recognized even with my 007 bag lady hat on I wasted my time, because Ashton and Bruno are receiving all the attention.

It’s funny to see all the females trying hard not to be obvious as they stare at them. The women toss their hair and glance nonchalantly and preen and pose as Ashton orders a bottle of Dom in an ice bucket.

Colored lights blink and orbit and pulse to a robotic beat, and everyone seems to be having a great time but me. Ashton tries to make conversation, but it’s way too loud and his effort is wasted. Which ultimately leaves us sitting and trying not to stare at the surrounding partiers, who are all pretending not to stare at us.

After an hour of this the champagne is gone, another bottle already ordered, and I’m ready to leave. Melody can’t believe she’s hearing me right and digs in with the stubbornness of a pack mule. We negotiate down to just one more drink, and I order a bottle of water, tired from the adrenaline leaving my system after the show.

And, of course, from my barrage of self-doubt and questioning over Derek.

We leave after another forty-five minutes, and other than Melody dancing with Bruno for two songs, our outing was surprisingly joyless. Or maybe that’s just me. All I can think about is the wave of willing femininity that’s going to be washing up to Derek’s door while on tour.

Starting tomorrow.

Chapter 32

Melody wakes up before me and groans loudly enough to rouse me from a sound sleep. The motel still has the odor of a deteriorating tomb, mostly masked by the clouds of floral scent Melody favors, for which I’m almost grateful. She stretches her arms over her head and her hand bangs into the wall.

“Shit.”

I look over at her on the other double bed. “Welcome to the rock and roll lifestyle, baby. Rise and shine.”

“Maybe in a couple of hours.”

“Nope. We’re checking out. Got an interview, people to see. Up and at ’em.”

“I hate you.”

“You want to shower first?”

“Is it just me, or were we with two of the most desirable men in the country last night and nothing happened?”

“It’s just you.”

She rolls her eyes as she flips the covers off and stares at the carpet in disgust. I have to admit it’s pretty gnarly, but I use my Chucks as slippers and shuffle to the bathroom. “Since you didn’t call it, I’ll go first.”

“Say hello to the cockroaches. There’s one the size of a guard dog in the shower.”

I take ten minutes to wash off and do my morning routine, content with running a brush through my hair, while Melody takes her usual half hour of primping. When she emerges from the bathroom, her hair still wet but makeup perfect, she smells like she bathed in cheap perfume. We pack our stuff and haul it out to where Amber’s waiting by the van.

“We’ve got time if you want to grab breakfast,” she says, holding up a cup of coffee. “The diner next door isn’t terrible.”

Melody and I exchange a look, stuff our bags into the van, and set off for the restaurant. I call Jeremy as we walk, the cold morning air chilling my face. When he answers he sounds giddy.

“Oh, my God! Is this the world-famous diva who rents a room from me?”

“Hi, Jeremy. How’s it going?”

“Couldn’t be better. Show’s still packing them in, the producers gave me a big raise, and I’ve never been richer or thinner.”

“That’s wonderful,” I say as we push through the diner doors. Melody strides to a booth by the window with a view of the bus stop and I slide in across from her. “What else is new?”

“Says Ms. Number Five on Billboard!”

“That’s pretty amazing, huh? Nobody’s more surprised than I am.”

“You sound a little down. Are the shows not going well?”

“They’re great. Really, really good, Jeremy. I’m just a little tired.”

“Then what is it?” He pauses. “Is this more moping over your man?”

“Can’t keep anything from you, can I?” The waitress comes, and I order coffee and tell her I need a few minutes to look at the menu. “I’m just in the dumps because I can’t have what I want, when I want it.”

“Now that’s diva talk, right there! He’s hooking up with you soon, isn’t he?”

“Three weeks. Seems like forever.” A thought occurs to me. “His first show is tonight. Are you going?”

“I wish I could, but unfortunately this working stiff has to sing his heart out from 8:00 to 10:00.”

“Have you seen his video yet?”

“No, but I also haven’t been looking for it.”

“Keep an eye out, would you?”

“It’ll be on YouTube within a few hours, so don’t sweat it.”

“That’s not it. I’m just hoping it does well.”

“With his face in it, how can it not?”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

Jeremy takes a long breath. “Good God, girl, you do have it bad for this man, don’t you? He must have some real magic in those pants of his.”

“It’s more than that.”

“If you say anything about soul mates, I swear I am going to reach through this phone and bitch slap you.”

“We’re pretty serious.” I catch Melody’s look and stick my tongue out at her. “Whatever happened with your Mr. Right?”

“Drama and more drama. I gave him my ultimatum, and I’ve refused to see him since.”

“Really! Good for you. I’m proud of you, Jeremy.”

“Well, you would be if any of that was true.”

The waitress comes and I order pancakes. Melody gets eggs. I hold up a finger signaling I’m almost done and return to Jeremy. “So you didn’t lay down the law?”

“I laid down something, but it wasn’t anything to do with the law.”

“Well, you know best.”

“Don’t patronize me. There’s nothing worse than being patronized by a teenager, even if she is Miss Thang right now. I know I’m blowing it. But I’m weak.”

“Just do what you told me to do that time, Jeremy. Tell him how you feel. That you don’t think what he’s doing is right, and you don’t want any part of it. Simple. Then go on and be your fabulous self. He’ll either step up, or you kick him to the curb. Simple.”

“I know. Part of the reason I wanted to talk to you was to work up my courage. I’m supposed to see him tonight, and I’m planning to do as you suggest. I mean, after, of course.”

“Of course. But it might have more weight before.”

“Don’t lecture me.”

We both laugh. “Good luck. You’ve been agonizing over this long enough. It’ll feel like a relief by the time you’re done.”

“Big talker. We’ll see.”

I hang up and look over at Melody, who’s staring off into space. I snap my fingers, and she gives me a half smile.

“What?” I ask.

“Oh, it’s just that you have Derek, and Jeremy has whoever he has, and I feel like I don’t have anyone.”

“What about Sebastian?”

“That’s my whole point. I mean, I want to feel like we’re together, you know? But I don’t get the sense that he’s trying to move mountains to see me. I listen to you about Derek, and it’s like you’ll do anything to be with him…”

“Well, you haven’t really spent that much time with Sebastian, Melody.”

“I know. Which is why I’m going to move to L.A. before I finish school. I’m looking into transferring.”