Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Fern closed her laptop with a satisfied snap, the last of her interview questions finally polished, and leaned back against the sofa, stretching her arms over her head. Beside her, Daniel was already stacking the empty Chinese food cartons into a neat pile.
‘Full?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow as she watched him lean back and rub his stomach.
‘Stuffed,’ he groaned. ‘If I eat another bite, you’ll have to roll me to this gig.’
She chuckled, pushing herself upright and brushing a stray piece of rice from her top.
It was already half-past seven; if they didn’t start getting ready now, they’d be the ones standing behind the velvet rope with the hopefuls, rather than breezing through the side door like the slightly jaded professionals they were supposed to be.
‘I need to quickly change. Bathroom is that way if you need it,’ she said before wandering into the bedroom and opening the small wardrobe where her work-life and social-life outfits awkwardly coexisted.
Black jeans were always a safe option, paired with a vintage band tee and her leather jacket; professional enough for an interview, casual enough for blending in with the crowd afterwards.
Daniel appeared at the bedroom door. Fern was changed and now holding up a shiny laminated card dangling from a lanyard. ‘Your golden ticket. Backstage pass. Don’t lose it, or security will throw you out faster than you can say VIP.’
Daniel flipped the pass over in his hands, clearly trying to play it cool but failing miserably. His smile stretched wider. ‘So this is legit?’ he asked. ‘I’m going to be backstage, like, properly backstage? With the band and everything?’
Fern smirked, reaching past him to grab her bag. ‘Yes, properly backstage. Try not to faint when you meet them, yeah? I don’t think they do autographs for unconscious fans. Are you ready? You’re about to meet Ella.’
‘Ella?’
‘Best friend and work colleague in crime. Known her since primary school and been inseparable since. We work at the same magazine and live in the same apartment block.’
‘That sounds like a hell of a friendship.’
‘It is.’
They headed towards the lift just as Ella stepped out of her apartment. ‘There you are!’ Ella called, swiping her dark hair out of her face with one hand and waving her phone around with the other. ‘I thought Puffin Island had kidnapped you. Is that shop up for sale yet? We need you home, woman!’
Fern shot her a sharp, warning look, the kind only best friends could decode in a split second. One that said: Not. Now.
Ella’s mouth twitched, her eyes flicking between Fern and Daniel with quick curiosity.
‘This is Daniel,’ Fern said, clearing her throat. ‘He worked with Matilda at the shop.’
Ella’s eyebrows shot up, but to her credit, she recovered fast, extending her hand towards Daniel. ‘Hi, it’s lovely to meet you.’
Daniel shook her hand, his grin relaxed but curious. ‘Nice to meet you. So, you’re the best friend trying to lure Fern back to London?’
‘Guilty,’ Ella said brightly. ‘I’m not even subtle about it.’
The three of them left the building and climbed into a cab, the ride across the city threading them through the pulsing streets of London. The closer they got to the venue, the more the crowd swelled on the pavements, and with the window down the buzz was unmistakable, electric.
Daniel gazed out at the queue that snaked around the block. The crowd was full of people in ripped jeans and leather jackets, fishnet tights, heavy eyeliner, denim vests patched with band logos … in short, the unofficial uniform of gig-goers who knew the lyrics before the first note hit the air.
‘I can’t believe we don’t have to queue with them,’ he said, eyes wide, as the cab pulled right up to the side entrance.
‘Perks of the job,’ Fern said, flashing him a smile as she paid the cabbie and took the receipt.
A security guard barely glanced at her pass before unclipping the velvet rope, letting them through the side gate where the low murmur of voices shifted to the thumping bass of the soundcheck echoing through the walls.
Fern noticed Daniel’s head whip back to look at the crowd one last time, as if he still couldn’t quite believe they were skipping the whole cramped queueing experience.
Just as they rounded the corner towards the artists’ entrance, the wave of confidence Fern had been riding stalled in her chest. There, by the loading bay doors, was Jax Devlin.
He was leaning against the wall, Sharpie in hand, signing autographs for a cluster of fans who hung on his every word.
His signature leather jacket was slung across his shoulders, dark hair a deliberate mess, smile cocky and easy, with every girl looking up at him in the hope that he would invite them backstage.
And right before her eyes he flashed his signature wink at a pair of girls in front of him, their voices climbing higher in a chorus of giddy squeals.
Fern felt the sharp pang of familiarity.
Jax’s head turned and his gaze swept the crowd before landing on her.
He had the audacity to give her the same wink; slow, deliberate and very much loaded.
Fern’s heart was thudding against her chest as they passed through the last line of security and slipped into the safety of the building, the fans’ cheers fading behind them.
‘We need to go this way,’ said Fern, leading them down a corridor.
Ella slipped off in the opposite direction after noticing their colleagues from the magazine, telling Fern she’d see them after the interview.
Fidgeting with his backstage pass like a kid unwrapping a Christmas present, Daniel walked at Fern’s side.
His grin was impossible to miss, as if he still couldn’t quite believe where he was going.
‘I can’t believe this is your life,’ he murmured, turning the laminated pass over in his hands.
‘I’m about to see Atlas Midnight live and go backstage.
Then I get to see Lust Theory. It’s surreal. ’
As they made their way to the lift, the excitement wrapped itself tighter around her chest, but not for the reasons it once did.
There was a time when nights like these would have had her heart racing – for the gig, for the music, for the thrill of being in the same orbit as the likes of Jax Devlin.
But she knew now that spark had been extinguished.
In fact, as she thought about it, she actually shuddered at the idea.
Why had she felt so little about herself to even entertain him?
The roar of the crowd grew louder as they moved deeper backstage, the energy pulsing through the concrete walls.
They weaved through crew members, sound engineers and artists in various stages of pre-show rituals.
As they reached one of the backstage lounges, the door swung open to reveal none other than Atlas Midnight, the band that had soundtracked half of her teenage years.
The lead singer, Cole Maddox, looked up from tuning his guitar and grinned. ‘Fern! Been too long.’
Fern beamed and greeted them all like old friends. ‘Boys, this is Daniel. He’s sitting in on the interview tonight,’ she added, waving him over. ‘Be nice. He’s a fan.’
The band made room for him on the battered old sofa, and as Fern pulled out her phone and began to record the interview, she caught the glint in Daniel’s eye as he listened, completely starstruck.
When the last question was asked and photographs were taken, the band excused themselves to warm up.
Fern and Daniel found themselves at the side of the stage, soaking up the electric atmosphere.
Daniel leaned in close, his voice warm against her ear. ‘This is just amazing! Thank you!’
Fern smiled. ‘You’re welcome! I’m just off to use the bathroom. I’ll be five minutes, don’t move!’
As she weaved her way through the backstage corridors, her phone buzzed again in her pocket, but before she could even glance at it, a figure stepped from the shadows, blocking her path.
Jax Devlin.
Before she could react, he pulled her in, lips crashing against hers without a second thought. The scent of leather, cigarettes and that familiar intoxicating aftershave hit her all at once.
‘There you are,’ he murmured against her mouth. ‘Where the hell have you been? You normally come and see me in my dressing room.’
She stepped back, flustered but trying to mask it. ‘Sorry, busy tonight. Work. Life. You know, the usual.’
But Jax wasn’t letting her off that easily. His hand curled around her waist, eyes scanning her face. ‘I’ve missed you, baby. Thought you’d done a runner on me. You’ve been quiet.’
Fern’s pulse was racing for all the wrong reasons. She tried to step back but Jax only tightened his grip. He flicked his cigarette to the floor and crushed it under his boot. ‘I’ve been hearing rumours about you.’
‘Which are?’
‘You haven’t gone and shacked up with some loser who owns an antique shop, have you?’ He smirked.
Fern froze. ‘How do you know about the shop?’
Jax’s grin widened. ‘Ella’s been keeping me up to date. Your mate’s got loose lips when there’s wine involved.’
Her stomach flipped. ‘When have you had wine with Ella?’
Jax leaned in again, voice low and mocking. ‘Whenever you’re not free.’
Fern’s stomach churned. Surely not. She didn’t even want to think about it.
‘Whatever happened to standards?’
Fern couldn’t quite believe he had the nerve to talk about standards. She wrestled herself free and took a step back, the anger bubbling just beneath her skin. ‘Grow up, Jax.’
‘Don’t be like that. You know we have good sex every time I’m in town and tonight won’t be any different. You’ll be there waiting in the hotel room as normal. You know you can’t resist me.’
The arrogance made Fern’s skin crawl. What did she ever see in him? She was about to walk away but he wasn’t done. Another kiss landed on her lips, but this time she pulled away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
A voice crackled over the radio, calling him to his dressing room.
Jax winked, cocky as ever. ‘Same hotel as last time. Same room. See you after, baby, and I hope you’re wearing my favourite underwear.’
Shaking, she watched him swaggering down the corridor like he owned the world.
Thankful he was gone, Fern turned around, only to stop dead in her tracks.
Daniel stood there, eyes dark, jaw clenched. It was written all over his face that he’d heard every word of her conversation with Jax.
Her stomach sank.
‘Daniel…’
‘You’re sleeping with both him and me, and you didn’t think to tell me?’
The words stuck in her throat, lost somewhere between regret and explanation.
Before she had time to explain, Daniel had walked away and disappeared into the crowd. She tried to follow him, shouting his name, but as weaved through the masses of fans he disappeared without trace.
Damn Jax Devlin.