Chapter 4: Rock Stars Are Cocky Bastards

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Trace

I'm sitting in the talent dressing room, waiting my turn for the stylist to touch us all up. Mac takes the most time, then Leed. I don't know why they bother with the rest of us, we sweat off all the makeup halfway through the set.

I'm working the stress ball I keep in my pocket on show days. It's just to warm my fingers up for the show, not for stress. I don't have a care in the world right now, because Kat is coming to the show.

I don't even care that the limo is stuck in traffic, which means Kat isn't going to get here early. She may not even get here by the time we are supposed to take the stage. It doesn't matter if I don't see her before. It doesn't matter that she's bringing the boyfriend. It doesn't matter that she's warring with herself over whether or not to be mad at me. All that matters is she took my call, and she got in the limo.

Lead and Mac, being Atlantans and siblings, are arguing about whether the driver should have taken GA 400 versus coming straight down 85.

"Screwed either way," I say cheerfully as I take my turn in the stylist's chair and sip a water. "They'll get here when they get here." No point in worrying about the delay that the fight over me sending the limo caused. I just hope Kat is enjoying her limo pre-party. I hope the boyfriend isn't being pissy and messing up her good time.

"Christ, can you show a little urgency?" Leed asks. "I'm more excited to see Little Sister than you are. I'm the one that sings about her blood and my soul every night. What do you think, Trace, how will she want it? Should I sing it like I'm a vampire? Or what it's really about?"

"Fuck if I know, I was high when I wrote that shit. Take a Twitter poll," I suggest and the room erupts in laughter.

I was not high when I wrote Little Sister, but I never get too deep with anyone about the lyrics. The only person that could ever compel me to a serious discussion about what I was feeling when I wrote Little Sister is on her way here in a limo.

I always flat-out refuse to confirm theories about the song meaning in interviews. You make one reference to spilling blood and people can't help themselves...they want the dirt. Interviewers often get blunt and ask me if the song is about domestic violence, or kinky shit, or the most common inquiry: if it's a song about taking a girl's virginity. That's what Leed thinks the song is about, for sure. He can think what he wants. So can everyone else. Lyrics are meant to be interpreted in different ways by different people. That's the beauty of song.

All the speculation about the song doesn't bother me, but I do wish Leed would stop attaching Kat to the song in front of a roomful of industry types. Soundcrush's team is loyal, but this is our hometown and we've given out alot of backstage passes, plus there's some press here. This is hardly a private space, and Kat has never publicly been associated with the song. It's on the tip of my tongue to ask Leed not to mention Little Sister to Kat, but part of me thinks that if I did, he would do exactly the opposite.

This isn't about Kat, this is about me and him. He likes to fuck with me sometimes. The band still hasn't quite recovered from the schism that Mac and Adam's hook-up caused. Don't get me wrong, we love each other, but Leed is still bitter that I didn't tell him right away, when I found out about his sister and our bass player. But it wasn't my business. Just like what's between me and Kat isn't his, even though he sings the song I wrote about her.

Kat and I have never talked about the song. I'm sure she knows it's about her, and I'm also sure she understands the different levels on which I meant the lyrics. But I wonder if other people in Kat's world know she's Little Sister. I wonder if she gets asked the same kind of questions I get asked in interviews. There were alot of people at that New Year's party that might have wondered what went on between us that night. Maybe between the drama that people saw that night and the drama they infer from the lyrics of Little Sister...it's possible Kat took some static, socially. I heard from my mom she switched schools her junior year. There were other good reasons she might have done this, after what happened with Ashlynn, but maybe it has to do with the song.

Maybe that's part of why she's angry with me. If so, she has a right. I never asked her if I could put a song about her out there to the world. I had no idea that it would make me and my friends famous, wealthy, put us at the top of the music industry. I never considered what impact it might have on her, if people knew she was my muse. She has more reason than she knows to be angry with me, actually. I'm going to have to come clean. But not tonight. Tonight is just about saying hi, having fun, reconnecting.

Dawes bustles through side stage giving us the ten minute warning. The opening act is about to close down their set, and then the crew will make a few quick adjustments and we're on. I'm just beginning to put thoughts of Kat aside and shift into the set playlist when I hear Riley's clipped accent pitched above the crowd.

"No, no, you are perfect, love—just in time to join the band for the pre-show toast."

My eyes meet Adam's. He winks at me, and together we rise silently and walk out of the dressing room, while the stylist protests we both need more hairspray. She catches hold of Leed before he can join us, and Bodie and Mac bolt around him.

"I wanna see Little Sister, too!" Leed wails as Tamara pushes him into the chair.

They all want to greet Kat. Little Sister was our break-through hit, so in a way, we all owe success to her.

I push through the crowd of people—god, this is the most cramped backstage of any venue I've ever played—and then I see her for the first time in almost three years.

I stop, frozen. Fuck, she looks gorgeous.

In this business, I see a lot of beautiful women. Kat is right up there with the best. She's much more beautiful than I remember, but at the same time, she still looks like the younger version that suddenly got sprinkled with sexy dust at fifteen. The same chestnut brown hair, dark eyes, glowing skin. Maybe a little taller, but still half a foot shorter than me. Christ, what is she wearing? That orangey-pink, clingy jumper thing is sexy as hell, and the color is perfect on her. She's filled out a little more since I saw her last—everywhere that's pleasing. Her legs look toned—she must be working out.

But none of the physical changes account for the new beauty in her. It's her presence that's beautiful, the way she's turning to me and giving me a calm, biding smile at the same time her eyebrow is raised, letting me know she's still got a beef with me. She's my old partner-in-crime, my girl-next-door, but she's this new, mysterious woman, too. She crosses her arms and waits. She's the aggrieved party. She's waiting for me to make the first move.

Without a word, I stride over and pull her to me in a firm embrace.

Then, as if I weren't already sure, her body yields soft against me, and her scent rises from her hair and seals the deal. How is it that I only awoke to that scent one time, but I've remembered it perfectly every morning since?

Ahh, she's pulling away too soon. But she's still smiling.

"Hey," is all I say. I let my smirk say the rest.

"Hey." 

She's all she-devil as she returns the up-and-down, checking me out much more boldly than I studied her.

I chuckle. Yeah, I know you like what you see, Sweetheart. You always did.

Our eyes meet, then her expressions clouds, and her hands jerk abruptly. She fiddles with something on her wrist—a bracelet, maybe? And then she's pulling the boyfriend in between us. Fuck.

Introductions are made. Not just the boyfriend, but the others, too. Colin, Laurel, Maddie she says. Obviously, I pay more attention to the dude. I'm surprised by him. He's friendly to me, though he has got the right idea by now that I'm a rival. He's got his hand on her lower back. Classic this-is-mine signal. I notice that Kat very subtly shirks him off, but then she tucks her arm beneath his, which is kind of the girl version of the same move.

Hmmm. Interesting. Does she really like this guy? I bet he wears his Letterman jacket to school everyday. He looks like a poster child for the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. He seems way too vanilla, for even the Kat I used to know. She used to like edgy guys. She used to like me. But the way she smiles at him...I'd like it if she smiled that way at me. Like she trusted me.

Adam nudges me. Christ, really? Apparently, it's my turn to make introductions—the band this time. Her friends, my bandmates are all saying inconsequential shit to each other. Kat and I are just staring at each other, having a silent communication.

Missed you, Kat, I smile. You look beautiful, I try to tell her with my eyes.

Whatever, her eye roll says. Also, fuck you a little, her squint adds.

Hell, now Dawes is giving us the two minute warning and the catering people are bringing the tray of shots for the pre-show toast. There's a bunch of yelling and blustering and gulping and then it's time. Bodie goes out first. Adams is preparing to follow him, and I'm next. I know I probably shouldn't ignore her boyfriend and her friends, but I take Kat's hand.

"Come on." I pull her toward the stage. "I want you to see what I see, when we do a show." 

 Her eyes are wide as she takes in the ornate theater, the lights, and the excited crowd. Bodie is already thumping hard on his kit and Adam is laying down the rhythm. The sound on the stage isn't just a sound. It's a powerful feeling—even more powerful than the energy in the mosh pit. Kat already feels it. She puts her hand on her chest and closes her eyes.

The she opens her eyes, and her cool facade is gone. Her warm eyes sparkle in stage lights. She's excited. By the vibe, or by me, I'm not sure. "I can't wait to hear you play."

I grin and run my hand up her silky sleeve, wishing I could touch her skin. "You and your friends can stay side stage, for a few songs, have a couple of drinks. Then security will take you to down to the pit." I point to the standing area filled with eager fans. 

"This is...really awesome, Trace," she says. "Thanks."

I shrug. "It's nothing. Kat, listen...the encore...it will be Little Sister. Leed has this stupid idea he's serenading you. I just thought you should know."

Her eyes tighten and she nods. Ahhh, her reaction clues me in. She does not enjoy the song. Damn. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, though.

"Can you and your friends hang after the show?"

Her eyes tighten further. "I...Colin is really anxious to get back. We have to drop everyone off..." She turns and smiles at him. He nods, but he doesn't come forward. Is this guy too good to be true or just dumb? No way I'd be so chill if the roles were reversed.

Adam is giving me the evil eye. He keeps playing the same bars over and over. I'm holding up the show. It's seems like I've said nothing at all to Kat. What if she leaves just as quickly as she came? I have ten seconds to say something important, something that will make sure she sticks around after the show. Fuck, I wanted tonight to be about us. I think if it were just her, she would stay, but I'm panicked the boyfriend will convince her to leave and I won't see her again. So I say the thing I know will hook her.

"Kat...I...I...saw Ashlynn."

Her eyes go wide. "You saw her? Where? When?"

"Three times. She's showed up at two West Coast shows, and then again in Texas, " I look out at the crowd. "I don't think she will show tonight. I doubt she'll want to come this close to home, but security has her picture. If they see her, they'll try to get her to backstage, so we can talk to her."

Kat's face pales. "That's unbelievable. How was she? Why is she coming to your shows?"

She's not good, and I know damn well why Ashlynn is coming to the shows; she made it pretty plain. But, I can't get into it right now. I have to start the show. I give Kat a swift kiss on the temple. "We'll talk about it after, ok?"

Then I take my Schecter from the roadie who has been waiting patiently, and all my worries shift to the back as I begin to finger our opener and the crowd applauds and shouts. I smile at Kat and strut toward Adam, leaning in toward him. The crowd volume raises when I take the stage.

"Sorry to leave you hanging like that," I grin.

"So now you've seen her," he shouts. "And you're really gonna do this?"

I give Adam a giant nod. The crowd, thinking I'm just getting into the jam, roars.

I back up. Adam follows me. "Rock stars don't date jailbait, man. Bad press."

"She's eighteen!" I shout back. "And you can't say shit. You messed around with MacKenna. Actual sister, way worse than Little Sister."

"Yeah, and I learned from my mistakes. That's all over."

As if I summoned her, our lovely and kick-ass keyboardist skips on the stage and hops up to the keyboard platform. The crowd goes insane. I grin. Mac is my songwriting partner. She's as talented as Gwen Stefani, hotter than Halsey, and with a little voice coaching, she'd be as good of a front as Leed, but she's more interested in writing songs that Leed can roar than crafting songs for her vocal style.

As Mac adds the synthesizers to our song, Adam struts over to her and bounces up and down in time with her. The looks they give each other when we are in the moment with the music...they are honest looks. The kind of looks that made our fans give them the ship name Madam, even though there was no press at all about their six month stint as secret lovers last year.

Over, my ass. I think they haven't even really started. I think since they stopped sharing a hotel room, they are realizing they were a helluva lot more than friends who fuck. When they finally get honest off-stage, it's either gonna be amazing between them, or it's gonna be a disaster for the band. But that shit is out of my hands. Soundcrush will survive; I won't let us fail either way.

Adam whips around and we are playing together again.

"Whatcha gonna do about the boyfriend?" he yells.

"Nothing," I say, as I nod and grin, because shaking my head at Adam right off the bat wouldn't be the best stage presence. "I think Kat will figure out what to do about him." I wink.

"Cocky bastard," Adam says.

The crowd goes wild as our red-headed lion of a front man slinks onto the stage and we kick it up and start to play for real.

So what do you think so far? Is Kat going to forgive Trace for dropping out of her life? Are Trace's feelings legit, or is he just obsessed with Kat because he thinks he owes his success to Little Sister? What's the deal with Ashlynn?

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