Chapter One
CHELSIE
NOW
It was Beatlemania all over again.
Fans were crying, screaming, fainting, undressing, and pulling each other’s hair just to get closer to the four men on stage.
The crowd consisted of hormonal college girls, soccer moms, grandmothers, men, and a pair of disabled women using their wheelchairs as weapons as they weaved through the masses.
It was pure hysteria, and I couldn't wait until the night was over.
I inched down the skirt of my waitress uniform as I made my way over to a corner table, holding a tray of refreshments high above my head. The noise level at The Pit Stop bordered on painful, and I adjusted my handy ear plugs when I passed by a table of twenty-somethings.
A girl in a scandalous pink tube top squealed over the music. "Oh. My. God. He looked at me. Devon Sawyer just looked at me. You saw that, right?"
Her friend nodded with excitement. "He totally looked at you! Scratch that—he totally checked you out."
Both girls shared in a girl-bonding-giggle-fest, and I held my tongue as I walked by the Scandalous Twins.
My fake smile was firmly in place, my pleasantries—well, pleasant—while I passed out drinks to another table of college girls.
They handed me a tip, so I upped my smile to an award-winning flash of teeth.
It twisted into a sour scowl as soon as I pivoted and headed toward the kitchen.
I hated my job. I hated the crowds, the loud music. I hated everything from my four-inch stiletto heels to the crooked nametag pinned to my collared shirt.
"Hey, sweet cheeks!"
I hated even more that nobody bothered to read said nametag.
Pushing through the maze of sweaty bodies, I trudged over to a pot-bellied man standing against the wall.
"What can I get for you, sir?" I asked, my voice barely penetrating Devon Sawyer's guitar solo.
"A kiss," he slurred, then puckered his lips.
Gross. I visibly cringed before storming away. Just another reason why I hated my job.
When I reached the kitchen, I set down my empty tray and leaned against the counter with an embittered sigh.
"It's nuts out there, huh?"
I looked up at my friend and co-worker, Lisa, forcing a smile. "It's brutal. Can I go home yet?"
"Fat chance. Freeze Frame is only on their third song. And why would you want to? You're making bank in tips, and these guys are amazing."
"Yeah, they're super. What is it with this band, anyway?” My nose crinkled with disdain. “We’ve never had anyone this famous play here before."
Lisa pulled her scarlet curls back into a loose ponytail. "Jerry is friends with the band’s manager. He did him a solid. We’re just fortunate we were put on the schedule tonight."
"Ah, yes. I'm so privileged to be a part of this history in the making," I said with a theatrical eyeroll, piling my tray high with beer and cheese fries.
Lisa whisked her trays through the double doors with a laugh. "You'll see. You’ll be telling your grandkids all about this one day."
I couldn’t help the snort from breaking through. Okay, so, these guys had a fanbase. Any decent-looking guy with a TikTok had a fanbase these days. Huffing out a sigh, I picked up my tray of orders and followed Lisa out the door.
Before I could exit, Jerry made a beeline in my direction.
Great. What did I do wrong this time? I smoothed out my pencil skirt and checked to make sure my blouse was tucked in.
"Get those kids some more water, will you?" Jerry ordered.
My heart galloped. "Huh? Me?" I glanced at the stage, then back to my boss. I was certain the phrase “deer in headlights” did not begin to accurately convey the stunned look on my face. "The band?"
"Yes, you. Yes, the band. Get them water. Did I stutter?" Jerry snapped.
Gulping, I shook my head. "No, sir. Just making sure."
I took a deep breath and spun back around toward the kitchen, collecting four water bottles from the refrigerator and tucking them under both arms.
"Lucky bitch!”
The familiar voice prompted a glance over my shoulder, and I discovered my other co-worker, Julia, sticking out her tongue. "It is what it is," I breezed with mock importance. "I'm just that cool."
"I would kill to get that close to those gorgeous boys," Julia sighed. "Every girl here would."
"Oh, please. It's just water. And you know I don't care."
Julia yanked her ponytail tighter and peered down at her ticket order. "Duh, that's why Scary Jerry chose you. You're not some swoony fangirl who's going to faint at the sight of them.”
I chuckled at the thought. "God, could you picture that? Me—actually showing interest in a man."
"You know you have to jump back into the dating pool eventually, Chels. Not every guy out there is like—”
"Chelsie!"
The water bottles nearly slipped from my arms when I spun around to find Jerry glaring daggers at me. "S-Sorry, I'm coming," I called back.
I turned to Julia and held up a water bottle in playful victory.
She flipped me the bird in response. "I hope you fall on your ass up there," she said with a laugh.
"Chelsie!"
I jolted into action. "I'm coming!”
"You're really starting to piss me off," Jerry said, shaking his head with disapproval.
My chin dipped to my chest, cheeks heating as I rushed past him, my eyes fixed straight ahead.
I resituated my grip on the water bottles when I sauntered toward the staircase leading up to the stage.
The security guards moved aside to let me pass, and I couldn't help but succumb to the faint buzz that shot through me, while my sweaty palms betrayed my proclaimed indifference.
I could feel the crowd's eyes on me as I neared the band, and I knew every person in that room wanted to be me.
Don’t fall on your ass. Don’t fall on your ass.
What I didn't expect were the eyes of one incredibly good-looking lead singer to be boring holes into me as I approached. My stomach fluttered in response.
What was that all about?
Swallowing, I held out a bottle of water to the shaggy-haired rock star and offered him a warm smile. "Here you go," I said. I was trying to ooze confidence, but my trembling hand portrayed otherwise.
He smiled back.
And oh, did he smile back. I could almost feel my eyeballs turn into animated cartoon hearts, and hey, was that a cupid flying over my head with an arrow pointing at one unsuspecting Devon Sawyer?
Get a grip! I pried my eyes away from the lead singer and passed out the remaining water bottles.
The drummer and bassist nodded their thanks, but the guitarist snatched the water out of my hand with a sneer, refusing to look at me.
I frowned but said nothing, then turned to walk off the stage.
That’s when a silky, strangely titillating voice made me stop in my tracks.
"Hey… thanks again, uh..."
I twisted around, my heart beating comically out of my chest. Lead Singer Guy was staring right at me, another melt-worthy smile on his face. "M-My name's Chelsie," I replied, cursing myself for stuttering like a lovestruck fool.
"Thanks, Chelsie.”
Another smile, then a wink.
A wink.
Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I returned Devon’s smile with far less charm and bewitchery and almost tripped on one of the steps leading off the stage. I could practically hear Julia laughing at my plight as I pulled myself together and continued the trek back down to the lounge.
Sure enough, Julia was peering through the kitchen doors with a smirk on her face.
"You slut!" Julia shouted when I approached.
"What? How am I a slut?"
"You were totally eye-fucking Devon up there. Look, you're even blushing!"
My cheeks burned hotter than Death Valley in the middle of July. I raised my hands to my face to hide the evidence. "I was not. He's not even my type."
Julia laughed, her raven ponytail swaying back and forth as she shook her head with pity. "Chels, you just found your type, and apparently it's the most lusted-after male in the country."
Crap. I bowed my head with equal parts mortification and infatuation. "He was... attractive, maybe, but it takes a lot more for me to—”
"Melt into a pile of girly-goo and almost trip over your own two feet in front of hundreds of people?"
"So, you did see that?" I asked with dismay, lifting a hand to my neck as the heat from my cheeks traveled south.
"Every minute of your wanton flirting," Julia admitted.
"Okay, first of all, that was not flirting. That was—"
"Eye-fucking. We established this."
“No.” My voice was laced with playful teasing. "Please stop incorrectly finishing my sentences.”
Julia sighed in resignation. "Fine, whatever. You were completely unaffected by his charms."
My eyes lowered as a small smile slipped out. "I never said unaffected."
Well, I supposed I was a little more than unaffected.
Perhaps, maybe… I was utterly and completely under the spell of Devon Sawyer.
Damnit.
Lisa came barreling into the kitchen, tossing her empty tray onto the counter with a clatter. "Chelsie, I hate you!" she squealed. "Oh, but I love you. Tell me everything!"
Our giggles intermingled as I began to speak, but I was cut short when Jerry stormed through the doors.
"What the hell is this?" he blared. All three of us flinched. "There are customers out there waiting. This is our busiest goddamn day, and you three are having a hormone-infused pow-wow in the kitchen? I should fire you all on the spot."
We shuffled to collect our orders.
"Sorry, sir," I muttered.
Lisa and Julia squeaked out an apology and hurried out of the kitchen.
"Hey." Jerry blocked my path before I could make a swift exit. "I expect a little more professionalism in the future,” he said before storming away and pushing through the kitchen doors, muttering profanities under his breath.
I loathed the sting of tears threatening my eyes. Jerry was never lacking in the insult department, but he had never once called me unprofessional. In fact, I prided myself on my responsible nature, and everyone around me knew it. They respected me for it.
Taking in a deep breath, I lifted my head and went back out there to do my job.
It wasn’t long before ten o'clock rolled around and Freeze Frame was on their final song. I’d never worked so hard in my life.
My swollen ankles throbbed, and my ears were ringing with reverb from the bass guitar.
I had spent the evening carrying heavy trays over my head and cleaning spilled drinks and barbecue drippings, while simultaneously trying to dodge the lusty looks Devon Sawyer had been throwing in my direction.
The first time our eyes had locked, I thought my knees would give out and my drink orders would topple onto table number four.
Why had this superstar set his sights on me when the room was filled with glamorous women? What made me so special?
Once upon a time, I might have considered myself special. Pretty, desirable. Unfortunately, Ian Masterson had successfully crushed my spirit and self-esteem a long time ago.
Glancing at my silver watch, I passed out a round of martinis to a crowded table and handed them the bill. When I turned around, I almost collided with a beefy security guard.
"Oh! I'm sorry, sir," I apologized.
"Miss Chelsie?"
I crossed my arms over my chest with a quizzical frown. "Am I in trouble?"
The guard let out a hearty laugh, his authoritative demeanor quickly dissolving. "Quite the contrary. Mr. Sawyer sent me over here to give you a private invitation to a V.I.P. event tonight with the band."
Um… what?
My eyes widened. "Mr. Sawyer? As in…" The words trailed off as I looked over at the stage. Devon’s t-shirt was currently plastered to his sweaty torso, his well-defined abs undoubtedly taunting me.
I gulped.
"Yes, ma'am—that Mr. Sawyer. They’ll be at Marley's tonight after the show. He'd like you to be there."
I was speechless. How was I supposed to respond?
"We'll be there!"
Julia had snuck up behind me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and inciting my drawn-out groan. "Julia, I don't want to go."
She ignored me, grinning brightly at the security guard. "Tell him we'll be there. Our shift is up at eleven."
Julia’s hand snatched mine, dragging me away before I could protest further.
"Jules, that wasn't cool. I have zero interest in being a musician’s one-night stand,” I huffed, yanking my arm away.
"You'll thank me for it one day,” Julia said with a shrug.
Julia was one of those fortunate females who could reel any guy in with her long, obsidian hair, bedroom eyes, and ample cleavage. I was perfectly willing to pass off Devon Sawyer to my more experienced friend.
I think.
Exhaling the doubt, I held firm.
Yes… Devon would only find disappointment and bloody battle wounds beneath the layers of Chelsie Combs.
I was headed home for the night.