Chapter 13
Arock sits in the pit of my stomach.
It’s show night in Denver. In just over an hour, I’ll be on stage with nothing but a mic and a guitar in my hands. For thirty minutes, thousands of eyes will be on me. Thousands of voices will be screaming at me, singing my lyrics, and cheering me on.
But that’s old news.
I tried to kiss Addison Abbey last night.
For a second there, I really thought we were having a moment. How many times have I looked into a girl’s eyes and known exactly what she was thinking? How many times have I simply whipped out the guitar and had co-ed panties thrown at my head? More times than I can count. But Addison isn’t like the college girls back in Chicago. She’s… well…
She’s Addison fucking Abbey.
I look at her across the bus. She’s sitting in her usual seat, looking calmer than I feel, but she’s done this far more than I have. I let my eyes swim in the view of her, taking in her tight pants and even tighter blue tank top. Red lipstick and black boots.
A literal rock goddess.
The rest of the band sits around, all dressed in their usual show gear. Knox and Jonah sport suits with sneakers while Katrina wears a stunning sundress with long, thigh-high white boots. Bronson, much like Addison, prefers to go sleeveless and unencumbered, but so would I if I were a drummer beneath those stage lights.
I push off my seat and walk over to her. She looks up, the force of her eyes nearly dropping me to my knees, but I move forward with a friendly smile.
Friendly.
We’re friends.
“Hey, Addison,” I say as I sit on the next seat over.
“Hey, Harvey,” she says. “What’s up?”
“You’re hot.”
She blinks twice.
“I mean…” The rock grows denser in my gut. “You look really nice tonight. That’s what I meant to say. Not that you don’t always look nice. Because you do. But tonight you also look really… nice.”
For some reason, she smiles. “That’s very nice of you to say. Thank you.”
“Your hair, especially,” I say. “On show nights, you always have that neat windswept look. It’s really neat.”
“Harvey.”
“How do you girls do that? Is it just a hair dryer, or?—?”
“You good, Harvey?” she asks.
“Yeah!” I answer too loudly. “I’m great. You?”
“I’m great.”
“Good. Good. Yeah, that’s… good to hear. Hey, did you know comets are mostly made out of ice?”
“Uh… yeah,” Addison says. “I did know that, actually.”
“I never really thought about it, but space is freaking cool.”
“It is. Literally, too.”
I glance around to make sure no one’s eavesdropping, but everyone seems preoccupied with their pre-show rituals. “After last night, I couldn’t sleep, so I looked up stuff about Hades’ Comet and then I went down a space rabbit hole a little bit.”
“Oh, yeah?” Addison shifts in her seat to face me. “What’d you learn?”
“Like, so much. Well, mostly just stuff about constellations and whatever. Which then took me down a mythology rabbit hole which… led to me watching Disney’s Hercules at five in the morning because I couldn’t stop thinking about Hades.”
“Understandable.”
“That movie is wildly inaccurate, by the way. But I can see why they cut it off where they did. You can’t end a kid’s movie with the hero brutally murdering his wife and kids.”
Addison chuckles. “I can see how that’d be frowned upon.”
I nod. “Oh, yeah.”
“So, it sounds like you didn’t sleep well last night?” she says teasingly.
“I did not,” I confirm. “But I got in a solid nap this afternoon, so I’m all good for the show. You?”
“Same.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“What else did you learn?” she asks.
I nearly bite my tongue clean off, but my curiosity knows no bounds, apparently. “I learned that you have no social media presence whatsoever.”
Addison’s sharp eyes flinch. “You looked me up?”
“I did, yes.”
She studies me quietly and, for a moment, I think she might turn away and tell me to piss off, but then she nods. “I’m not online much,” she says.
“No socials. No embarrassing articles from high school. No nothing. It’s like you didn’t exist at all before Criminal Records.”
She shrugs. “I didn’t.”
“That can’t be true.”
“It is.”
“Where did you grow up?” I ask.
Addison pauses, her eyes scanning the bus and windows. “Why do you ask?” she asks.
“I’m just… trying to get to know my friend a little better. That’s all.”
She sits back in her seat. “I grew up in Vegas,” she says. “Went to school with Bronson. He tapped me on the shoulder one day in history class and asked if I wanted to join his band. I said yes, and that was that.”
“Right,” I say. “That part is well-documented.”
She gives another shrug. “Not much else to add.”
“What about your family?” I ask. “My mom’s a teacher. How about yours?”
Addison pauses, her teeth digging into her cheek.
“Sorry,” I say, sitting back. “I didn’t realize I was treading into the west wing there.”
She raises a brow.
“I watched Beauty and the Beast after Hercules,” I explain.
“Ah.”
“The west wing was the forbidden part of the castle.”
“No, yeah.” Her lips twitch with a short smile. “I remember.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” I say, prepping to leave. “I’ll go back to my seat.”
“No, it’s okay,” Addison says, her hand suddenly on my arm. “You can stay. It’s fine.”
I ease back down, trying not to focus too much on the rush of warmth firing along my skin beneath her fingers.
Her hand falls away, but the tingle lingers. “I haven’t seen my mother in a while, but she is also a teacher,” she says.
“Oh, yeah? Cool! What kind?”
“Music. Piano, specifically. In fact, she was Knox and Katrina’s piano teacher for a minute there until their crazy cult parents found out what she used to do for a living and fired her.”
“What did she used to do?” I ask, hanging on every word.
“She was a showgirl.”
“Was her name Lola?”
Addison doesn’t laugh.
“Sorry,” I say, cringing. “You’ve probably heard that one before.”
“Many times, yes.”
“So, a Las Vegas showgirl?” My eyes widen. “With the naked and the dancing and the feathers and stuff?”
“Yup.”
“Wow. That sounds fun.”
“I’ve seen some fun pictures from that era, yes.”
“Mine just teaches high school biology.”
“Hey. That’s still important. Mitochondria and whatnot.”
I laugh. “Right. Yeah.”
“What’s your dad do?” she asks.
“Oh, well, my bio-dad died when I was five,” I answer.
Her face falls. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I barely even remember the guy at all. But my stepdad is a lawyer. Defense attorney for the rich and heartless.”
“Even assholes have rights,” she says with a shrug.
“So I hear. He also would rather I be doing literally anything at all other than this.”
“Not big on the arts, huh?”
“He is not.” I bob my chin in her direction. “How about your dad? What’s he do?”
Addison swallows. “Uh, I don’t know. Never met the guy.”
“No?”
“According to my mother, he was just some guy who blew through town years ago. He saw her perform, liked what he saw… you can probably figure out the rest.”
“The old bang and run, huh?”
“Pretty much.”
“But she got you out of it,” I say. “I’d consider that a win.”
Addison shrugs.
“So, why haven’t you seen your mom in a while?” I ask.
She pauses with hesitation as she looks down at her hands. “I don’t know. We just… drifted apart, you know?”
Before I can ask anything more, Mac turns the bus off the busy street and into the parking lot of tonight’s venue. As he does, a surge of screaming fans rush through the barricades set up to keep them from doing just that and we lurch to a sudden stop.
Knox grins menacingly and opens the nearest window.
“Knox, don’t—”Jordan warns far too late.
Not that she could ever stop Knox Benton from embracing his adoring fans.
Screams and shouts echo in from outside as Knox and Jonah stick their heads out the window. They give them high fives and handshakes, enjoying every second as Jordan attempts to lure them back inside.
I pop up and reach for my window, too.
“Hey, it’s Harvey Moon!”
My heart leaps. They know me! They know my name, my face. They’re smiling and screaming and reaching out to me, just like them.
Me.
Six months ago, I was nobody.
Now, they know my name.
Grinning from ear-to-ear, I give them a wave. Then Jordan scolds us enough to pull us back inside.
I close the window and sit back down.
“You really love this, don’t you?”
I nod at Addison. “I do,” I answer her, my heart fully ablaze. “What could possibly be better than this?”
She says nothing, but a smile twitches her lips.
Slowly but surely, we roll through the parking lot and safely disembark next to the Criminal Records trucks that transport their equipment. Through the back entrance, a few stagehands lead us through the winding hallways backstage where the roadies have already arrived and set up everything.
With a magnetic grin and a still-pounding heart, I follow behind Criminal Records toward the dressing room, the crowd of thousands sounding louder and louder with each step I take.
Yes, Addison,I answer again.
I seriously can’t think of a better life than this one.
As we reach the dressing room door, I hear Knox’s confused voice in front of me.
“What the fuck is this?” he asks.
I peek through, craning my neck to see over his shoulder.
And see nothing but roses.
Yellow roses.