“So.” I tug on the strand Melanie dared me to paint, suddenly feeling shy. “You had a good rehearsal too.”

A deep, unexpected laugh leaves him, and we start heading into the back of the stage. “I think I missed you, Pink,” he says softly, shaking his head as if that’s stunning news. “All this time.” He reaches out, and his silver ring rubs over my chin in a soft caress.

Briefly.

One second it’s there, the next, gone.

My smile falters as the ghost of his touch lingers on my skin. “I think you’re deluded.”

“Yeah, I missed you,” he says, nodding to himself, his smile sincere. “Such a brave, angry little raven . . . hiding the sweetest, warmest little chick inside.”

I roll my eyes, struggling with how genuine he sounds. “Whatever, Kenna,” I say. Like I’ll ever forget he wrote a song basically telling me how much I suck!

“Hey, Kenna!” One of the backstage roadies passes him a red cup of what I assume is water. He grabs it and starts downing it while the twins come toward us with their guitars slung behind their backs. We watch them head for water too.

“How do you guys do it?” I wonder out loud as Mackenna and I watch the Vikings grin at us. “Perform before all those people.” I gesture toward the stage and all the empty seats surrounding it.

He shrugs. “Lex throws up before going up, every time. Jax gets stoned. And me?” He shrugs. “I have a special trick I do.”

“Like what?”

“I tell myself no one out there is you.”

“Really? That’s your trick? So, I’m your jinx, and you’re just relieved I’m not watching.”

He laughs as he heads to his dressing room.

“Hey! Where are you going? We’re having a talk here!” I protest.

“I need to shower, Pink. Look me up later, though, and I’ll be happy to explain,” he says, but something about his gaze tells me he’d like to do more than explain.

For the next hour, movements of all kinds wreak havoc in my stomach.

I tell myself he wanted to get the best of me, or bait me like he baits the Vikings. He’s a pirate luring me into his lair, but I won’t fall into his trap. Who cares what he meant?

But later at the hotel, I’m wandering out in the hall, unsure of which room he’s in, when the delightful Tit and Liv walk by. “You looking for Kenna?” they ask, wearing identical ear-to-ear grins.

Fuck.

“No.”

“Oh. Really?” Liv hooks her arm around mine and spins around, taking me in another direction. “Then want to come to our room? We’re going to watch a movie.”

“I’m a little sore.” I try to pull free.

“Oh, no worries! I’ve got stuff to help with that.”

Since I am sore from this morning’s dance lesson, I bite back my retort and let her lead me into their shared bedroom. The “stuff” she has is an ice pack, and I squirm as she presses it against the muscle above my knee. “Oh, don’t groan and be a boy about it,” she shushes. “The guys are the only ones that complain.”

I go still and frown.

“We sometimes let the boys borrow our packs when they overdo their workouts. Gym every three days. They dead lift and do all kinds of other things.”

“How long have you been dancing for them?” I ask, genuinely curious. They all seem to be friends, but clearly the girls sleep with the men too.

“Me, four years. Tit, two. We love it here.”

“I bet.” I study them. I’m searching for any traces of guilt in Olivia’s eyes, but I can’t quite decipher it. I’m so used to the transparency of Melanie and Brooke. The honesty of real friends. But then again, I’m used to my mother. Closed off. These girls are just like her, and there’s only one way to deal with this sort of people—from a distance. Failing that, you have to be up front. “Why are you being nice to me right now?”

They laugh in unison, exchanging glances. “Oh, don’t be silly. We don’t want you as an enemy. We want to be sure you’re not messing with Kenna.”

“You think you’re protecting him from me? That’s absurd.”

“Is it?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, we don’t know.” Now it’s Tit talking, tapping one manicured nail to her lips—painted in the exact same shade as Liv’s. “Since you arrived, Kenna’s done nothing but stare at you, walk next to you, sit next to you, and sniff around you like some dog with a new bone.”

“He’ll go find another bone soon.”

“Will he?” It’s Olivia again. “Because, can I just say, we’ve talked to the other girls, ones who’ve been with the band even longer, and he doesn’t do that. Women come to Kenna. He doesn’t go to anyone, he’s got like legions. So yeah, we’re concerned. What’s the deal with you two?”

I shrug. “He’s my ex. We have a past. A past which means I hate him—as you’re supposed to hate an ex.”

“But you were dancing with Yola like you wanted to make out. You were imagining she was Kenna.” The words weren’t a question so much as an accusation.

“I . . .” Since there’s really no point in denying the way I got lost in that stupid dance, I shut my mouth.

“One of the camera guys said you two shared a room the other night. That true?” Tit presses.

“Wow, is this high school?”

There’s a camera positioned on a stand in the corner of the room, almost like a live predator, waiting to trap my answer. For a fraction of a second, I want to leave, but I want the information I can garner from these girls too.

“We slept together,” I whisper, really low, “but . . .”

“You guys did it! We knew you had. Those smoldering looks he gives you must be multiplied times five in the bedroom, huh!”

“Oh, no.” I glance back at the stupid camera, suddenly a little too vulnerable. Admit that he didn’t have his way with me? That he didn’t touch me like that? I suddenly don’t want them to know if he did or didn’t. Mackenna is my secret again and I don’t want to share anything about him with anyone.

I get to my feet.

“Good night, girls. Next time let’s get together in my room. I’ve got a little thing that you don’t—it’s called privacy.”

“Hey, Dora,” Liv says as she stops me.

“Pandora. Please. Here’s your ice pack back. My guess is, it’s about the same temp as you two.”

“Tomorrow. Your room. After the concert. We’ll bring the skinny martinis. Deal?”

I look at them, and I realize I don’t know what to make of these two. Maybe they hate me, but I still need somebody to talk to, or I’ll go running back into Mackenna’s arms like I was just about to only minutes ago. He’s the one—not these girls—who can hurt me. Whatever these girls want to do has nothing on what Mackenna can do to me.

It won’t do any harm to remain cautious, though.

I head back to my room and wonder what he’ll do when he realizes I’m not showing up. Will he attempt to seduce me tonight in my room? Is he feeling this same strange anticipation I feel? Wondering what his next step will be? What he’s going to do?

But by midnight I hear his laughter in the hall. The sound is accompanied by that of women laughing too, and I realize the sudden wave of hate I feel is not even for him.

It’s for me.

TEN

CONCERT TIME

Pandora

Concert night is crazy. You need ten eyes when you walk backstage to keep from tripping over anything and crashing into anybody, much less staying in one piece.

I spot Jax in a corner near the curtains, smoking, and I suddenly wish I’d tucked my e-cigarette into my jeans. “Oh, can I get some?” I ask. Jax puffs out a stream of smoke as he hands it over. I give it a hit and cough. “It’s pot?”

“What did you think it was?” He grins and lifts his hand to retrieve it from me, but I quickly move away, deciding to take another quick hit.

Jax laughs and pounds my back when I cough. “Easy, Miss Jones,” he says.

“Oh, puleeze. I’m not Miss Jones.”

“Well that’s what everybody calls you ’round here.” He grins at me, and I notice he has the strangest shade of eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re violet. “We feel like we know you, being that Jones sings about you and him and all,” he drawls out, acting quite brotherly to me now.

“They’re all lies, I tell you. Wait till you hear what I have to say about him.” I nod direly, and he lets out a booming laugh.

From out of nowhere, Lionel grabs the cigarette and stubs it out. “Get rid of this, Jax. Jesus F Christ, how many times must I tell you?”

“Umm. Once more?”

Leo scowls at him and turns to me. “Want to watch the concert from the front row?” Clearly noticing my hesitation, he ushers me toward the doors leading out to the stadium. “Come on. It’ll be fun for you, and one less thing for me to worry about. I don’t want Kenna distracted. He’s already obsessing over what wig to wear tonight.”

“He looks ridiculous either way, so tell him he might as well go for a Mohawk,” I say drolly as I follow him outside.