Chapter 19
The pre-show hospitality was way more full-on than I’d imagined. Roka had commandeered a chunk of backstage and turned it into her own personal cocktail party, with a proper bar and queer energy pulsing in the air.
“I thought she wasn’t high maintenance, but she’s got her own cocktail for her show,” I whispered to Eliza as a bartender mixed another Roka Rebellion which was apparently made of gin, vermouth, and something a horrible shade of lime green.
“Does it matter when it’s free?” Eliza accepted a glass from the bartender, who gave her a wink so sultry, I felt the force of it. And then, I wanted to jump the bar and scratch the woman’s eyes out.
Okay, interesting reaction.
Roka walked up to us wearing a black leather catsuit that practically purred. If I’d have tried the same outfit, I would have looked ridiculous. She swigged from a bottle of water, no lime-green concoction anywhere to be seen.
“You’ve got a cocktail, great.” She leaned in.
“Just to be clear, the festival came up with the cocktails for all the headline acts, not me. I’m not that extra, and I never drink before a gig.
” She squeezed my shoulder. Roka was very tactile this time around.
“One thing: don’t get too wasted before my set because I might call you up on stage. ”
I shook my head. “You don’t need to do that.” Panic took every stitch of its clothing off and streaked through me, screaming.
But she just grinned. “I know. But I might want to.”
Holy fucking shit.
When she winked and walked off, I turned to Eliza.
“We might need another drink.”
The act prior to Roka was an all-female guitar band who had great energy and songs to match. The crowd responded with gusto, and from our elevated position to the side of the stage, we saw Roka high-five them all as they came off.
I drank in the view as my eyes wandered the sea of people stretching far back, all watching the stage, waiting for the breakout star of the year.
Roka’s music was the soundtrack to many adverts and film montages, as well as being great songs in their own right.
She’d done so well, and I still couldn’t quite believe we were here as her guests.
Flags fluttered in the warm evening breeze, and the crowd noise swelled every time a technician took to the stage.
“Look at all those people,” I said. “How is Roka not absolutely bricking it?” Because after what she said to us, I was.
Below, Roka was doing an elaborate stretching routine.
“Some people thrive on it. I don’t mind giving presentations, but getting up in front of this crowd is another level.” Eliza’s expression spelt freaked.
Twenty minutes later, a woman with a clipboard positioned us by the side of the stage. “Don’t move, because I’m not sure when she wants you. My guess is she’ll do three songs, then get you on.” She turned up her grin. “Try to enjoy it, ladies. This is a once in a lifetime moment.”
From our new vantage point, we could see everything from stage level. The crowd flexed and swayed, the lighting rig creaked overhead, and Roka paced behind the backdrop like the coolest lioness imaginable.
When she finally walked out, the noise was deafening. I’d been to plenty of gigs, but this was something else entirely: the kind of roar that seemed to come from the earth itself.
Roka owned that stage like she’d been born on it, prowling from one end to the other, stoking the crowd and giving them exactly what they wanted: hit after hit.
Her voice cut through the festival noise, her guitarists were slick, and her drummer hit her drums like she meant it.
By the third song, she had the crowd in the palm of her hand.
Sure enough, after song three, she quietened the crowd.
“I want to tell you about some great women I met recently,” she said into her microphone, chatting like she was in my kitchen and not speaking to 10,000 people.
“Have you heard of Voss Watches? Because if you haven’t, you soon will.
They’re so pretty and cool, and I’m hoping to collaborate with them.
Their owners are queer and we’re releasing a special edition watch to go along with my album, which is sick.
Get out your best queer cheers for Poppy and Eliza! ”
Holy fucking shitbags. Even though she’d told us, I was not prepared for this moment.
“I think I might vomit.” Eliza gripped my arm so hard I was pretty sure she’d left permanent marks.
“On the plus side, I guess this means we’ve got the deal,” I whispered in her ear.
She turned, dropped her eyes to my lips, then dragged them back up to me. “Smile like you mean it,” she told me, then took my hand and pulled me out on stage as the spotlight swung towards us.
The afterparty migrated back to the VIP courtyard, where our favourite bartender was still wielding cocktails like weapons, with a side of that dangerous smile. My head buzzed with post-stage static: I was fairly certain sleep was now a foreign concept.
How did Roka survive nearly two hours under those lights without combusting? No wonder pop stars developed pharmaceutical habits. Standing in front of that crowd was like mainlining pure voltage. Great as a one-off, but I wasn’t born for the spotlight.
But despite commanding a festival stage like she was born to it, Roka moved through the afterparty with zero ego. She worked the crowd of 50-odd people like she was hosting a dinner party, and when she drifted our way, she’d collected the stunning green-eyed woman en route.
“This is Sasha,” she said, making introductions. "Old friend, happened to be in the country, so I persuaded her to come see me.”
The way Roka looked at Sasha, I wondered if she was more than an old friend. Or perhaps she wanted her to be? It reminded me of the way I’d been looking at Eliza of late.
“I am obsessed with your English festivals,” Sasha announced in pure Manhattan vowels and consonants.
“I had two pints of cider earlier, and I’m ready to apply for citizenship.
You simply don’t get drinks like that in the US.
” She paused to sip something alarmingly purple.
“Also, when Roka mentioned your collaboration, I nearly died. I’ve loved your watches since I could suddenly afford shit when my modelling career took off.
Plus, your whole female-dynasty thing? Pure genius. Your family are absolute legends.”
Dead legends, but still.
“How was the stage thing?” Sasha continued. “I watched from the VIP area thinking I’d literally murder Roka if she ambushed me like that.”
We didn’t really have a choice.
Roka’s grin was unrepentant. “Everyone wonders what it’s like behind the microphone, right?
Besides, I’m genuinely excited about this partnership.
We could build something extraordinary: for both of us, and for the planet.
If you agree to my terms, which include giving a percentage of our profits to charity, then we’re on. ”
I raised my lime-green cocktail, which was currently rewiring my nervous system. “To our success, and to saving the planet on the way there.”
We stumbled the few steps to our glamping tent, drunk on the day and the buzz of Roka’s commitment to us.
Up above, the sky was scattered with diamonds, impossibly bright away from the city’s glow.
The smell of baked earth filled my airwaves, along with the taste of potential.
Like the first sip of wine you’ve been saving for the right moment: complex, promising, with notes you can’t quite identify yet, but you want to explore further.
We’d left when the party was in full flow, having had enough green drinks and socialising for one day. Plus, Roka had spent the last half hour snogging the face off Sasha. When they slipped away, it gave us permission to do so, too.
However, other non-green drinks were still fair game, so we raided the minibar with the dedication of people who weren’t quite ready for the night to end, settling on the deck with tiny bottles of tequila.
“I haven’t had a moment like this in forever.
” Eliza’s voice caught as she stared upwards.
“Just completely removed from everything, yet somehow more present than I’ve felt in months.
Living with dad and juggling the renovation hasn’t been easy.
But being away from it all, and being with you? I can breathe again.”
I wasn’t sure being with Eliza was easy, but I knew what she meant. She had this way of making the world feel manageable, of softening the edges.
“It’s all down to you. This whole weekend, New York and shedding Michelle, feeling lighter than I have in months. I’m really grateful Margot and Dad picked me for this job.”
Her profile in the moonlight was magical. “I’m really grateful they picked you, too.” I gulped. I knew I was going to say it.
I couldn’t stop myself.
I didn’t want to.
“And after what happened in New York? I know we said we’d bury it and carry on, but I haven’t thought of much else since. Especially when I’m just about to fall asleep.”
The stars wheeled overhead, indifferent to our tiny human dramas.
She nodded, staring at them, before catching my gaze.
Everything inside me clenched. The trees around us held their breath.
Eliza cleared her throat. “Same. I’ve tried really hard, but I knew this weekend would alter things again.”
I stared at her in the fairy-light glow, and something shifted in the air between us. The space contracted to just this moment, suspended like a question neither of us had dared to ask.
Maybe somebody had to be brave.
Before I could second guess myself, I reached out a hand, and my fingers traced her knuckle. Even that slight touch ripped a low moan from my throat. I felt it everywhere. In my heart, in my veins, in my very soul.
What were we doing? I didn’t care anymore. Because if this was wrong, then why did it feel so right?
It seemed like we had the same thought at around the same time, because soon, our drinks were abandoned, and we reached for each other, the cool summer air pressing us together. Before either of us could think too hard about it, we were kissing.
Last time, it’d started out soft, tentative. This time, there was none of that. Our mouths came together hard, aggressive, with purpose, like this is what we’d been craving forever.
Heat spilled down my body and I knew right then that if this was what the kissing was like, the sex was going to be off the scale.
Was I ready for that? I didn’t have a choice.
As Eliza’s tongue slipped into my mouth and her hand found the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair, the outcome of tonight was writ large.
She groaned into my mouth, which only made my pussy tighten. Everything intensified that fraction more. She tasted like tequila and something sweeter, like the promise of things I’d been afraid to want.
The kiss deepened more. I wasn’t sure how, but she made it happen, urgent and desperate, like we were trying to capture every unspoken thing that had been building between us since time began. Eliza’s hand found my breast, then my nipple, and squeezed. My hand slid between her legs and pressed.
She gasped.
Both our eyes sprang open at the same time.
Her pupils were blown wide.
I grabbed her hand and hauled her up. Then I unzipped the tent, and pulled her inside.