Chapter 4
four
. . .
Lizzy
Sound check diffused the tension. Lizzy had no idea what happened after she left the men in the lounge, but once the band was on stage, they left their personal differences aside.
Conversations were strictly about the music.
The music. . . sometimes it smoothed the rough waters between them. Other times, it caused a tsunami.
When they were done, Lizzy headed backstage to the pre-show party. Usually she hated these things—they all did—but tonight was a special event. Maybe the others weren’t interested in giving Blind Fury a proper farewell, but she felt it was well deserved.
The party was overflowing with people, food, alcohol, and music.
She stole a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, stood off to the side and surveyed the room.
It was filled with industry people and the press, who, no doubt, would be cornering her for interviews at any second.
She spotted Dillon walking toward her from across the room and gave him a questioning head tilt.
“Hey,” he said, standing next to her and looking into the crowd. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Why wouldn’t I be here?” She noted that neither Sid nor Zach were anywhere to be seen. “We should all be here.”
“You’re right. I hear what you’ve been saying about tonight being the end of Blind Fury.
I get it. It means something. We had a lot of ups and downs as a band.
A lot of headaches and a lot of arguments, but there were a lot of good times too.
Maybe not these last few years, but our early years were a blast. No one can deny that. ”
She nodded in agreement, memories of happier times filling her head. “I’ll never forget any of it.”
He clinked his beer bottle against her champagne flute. “To Blind Fury. It’s been one hell of a ride.”
Sadness spread through Lizzy’s chest and made her frown. Even though part of her was ready to leave it all behind, despite the fighting and all of Sid’s bullshit, through all of Zach’s drama, and the constant back and forth with Dillon, Lizzy still loved this band, and she hated that it was over.
“Hey.” Dillon tried to read her eyes. “You OK?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” She took a deep breath and surveyed the crowded room. “Do you know any of these people?”
“Some faces are familiar, but I have no idea who most of them are.” Dillon pointed to the far end of the room. “It looks like Zach finally showed up.” He snorted a laugh. “Isn’t that the head of Taylor Records he’s schmoozing with? He’s probably trying to score a new contract.”
“Do you think there’s truth to the rumor that the label offered Sid a deal?”
Dillon nodded. “Yeah. Walter probably had a hand in it. He wouldn’t let Sid walk away without a contract. A contract that surely included a deal for himself as Sid’s manager.”
Her head snapped in Dillon’s direction at the idea of Walter betraying the rest of them. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Not at all. Walter’s smart. I can’t blame the guy for trying to make a buck. He was our manager, but he still only looked out for his pocket.”
She didn’t know why she was surprised or so put out. It was no secret that money was the only thing Walter really cared about. “Where is Walter anyway?” Lizzy scanned the room again. “Shouldn’t our manager be here?”
“He’s probably babysitting Sid. Massaging that huge fucking ego of his.”
A member of the press passed and snapped a photo, flashing a bright light in their faces with a huge camera. Lizzy expected the journalist to ask them for an interview or at least ask a few questions about the band’s break-up, but he just wanted a photo. Were they old news already?
The room was filled with people pretending to bid farewell to Blind Fury, but it was just about money and marketability.
They were a pack of wolves, only interested as long as it brought in a meal ticket.
To Lizzy, it was the end of a dream—the end of life as she knew it.
Everything was about to change. This little party was a farce, and she no longer wanted anything to do with it.
She placed her empty champagne glass on the table. “I’m outta here.”
“Wait.” Dillon caught her by the arm. “Don’t go yet.”
An unexpected surge of heat made her stop dead, and her gaze immediately snapped to his hand. It gripped her forearm high enough so that the back of his index finger skimmed the outermost part of her breast.
She lifted her eyes and met his smoldering stare.
Not only did his intense gaze mesmerize her, but the possessive hold he had on her arm sent a hot chill up and down her spine.
Any other time, she would have tugged her arm free and stormed out, but she was paralyzed.
The way her heart pounded and the way her skin prickled made her eyes widen with newfound wonder and .
. . attraction. She had no fucking idea what the hell was going on.
She never had this kind of reaction to Dillon before, and it unnerved her because, obviously, last night woke something inside her—something she never expected—and it was an unwelcome feeling.
As they locked eyes, he slowly released her arm, and she regained some control over the tirade of emotions swirling through her body. “Why do you want me to stay?” she asked.
“Because we never get to spend one-on-one time together and we may never get the chance again. I don’t want you to run out of here after the show before we get a chance to talk. ”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Us.”
“Us?” She did not want to have this conversation—ever—but, apparently, it was happening.
Right now. In a room filled with the media.
Taking a moment to slowly blink and closing her eyes longer than necessary, she said, “There is no ‘us,’ Dillon. We had one drunken night together. That’s all there is to it. ”
“Is it? Is that really all there is to it?”
His intense black eyes taunted her, and, for once, she had no comeback.
No smart-ass remark came to mind. No sarcastic reply.
Not even a calm rational answer. Her mind was blank, and the only thing she could think about was the way she was struggling to breathe, as if there weren’t enough air in the room.
“It’s OK. You don’t have to say anything.” His lips pulled back into a lopsided smile. “Your eyes are telling me everything I want to know.”
She held her breath.
“Do you want to know what I see in them?”
She didn’t move.
He leaned in, looking deep into her eyes, stopping with only inches between them, and said, in a long, drawn-out whisper, “Fire.”
All the air left her lungs at once, and it blew a tuft of his long hair away from his face.
He let out a short, sexy chuckle, while her face burned red hot.
Flustered and uncomfortable with her reaction, she bolted out of the room.
Her quick departure, as if the building were about to burst into flames, caught the attention of a few photographers, who temporarily blinded her with camera flashes on the way out, and she brushed past more than one journalist calling her name.
Sure, now that there seemed to be an incident, they wanted to talk to her. Fuck them.
She tugged on the roots of her hair as she raced down the corridor back to her dressing room but slowed when she spotted the room Walter was using as an office. She decided she wanted her own flight home. There was no way she was sitting on a plane with Dillon.
She knocked, but no one answered. Walter probably couldn’t hear her over the music that was playing behind the closed door, so she tried the handle. It was unlocked, and she slowly pushed the door open.
The first thing she saw were two blondes, naked from the waist up, sitting on the couch.
Sid sat between them, leaning over the glass coffee table with a mountain of cocaine in the center, snorting lines.
Because what else would he be doing before a show when they were supposed to be at a sendoff with the press?
A wave of disgust burned the back of Lizzy’s throat like acid, and anger made her spine rigid. Walter was behind this, feeding Sid drugs and women. He was probably in the other room having his own celebration.
She watched Sid snort another healthy amount of cocaine, bring his hand to his nose while he breathed in deeply, and his eyes fluttered under his lids .
“Nice,” she said sarcastically. “Real fucking nice. You’re getting high right before our last show?”
His eyes came into focus. “What the fuck are you doing here? This is a private party.”
He sat back on the couch, and that’s when she saw the brunette between his legs, bobbing her head in his lap and sucking him off. The brunette wiped her mouth as she stood up and turned toward Lizzy. She was totally naked and shaved clean, without a stitch of hair between her legs.
“Oh my God,” Lizzy said, disgusted, and averted her eyes. But she really wasn’t surprised because this wasn’t the first time she walked in on something like this.
When the brunette gave Lizzy a provocative smile and started walking toward her, Sid, clearly annoyed that his plaything abandoned him to talk to Lizzy, sneered at the girl. “Where do you think you’re going? You’re not finished.”
The brunette ignored him, so he put his arm behind the blonde to his right and pushed her head down between his legs, and she seamlessly took over.
Lizzy huffed and turned away, about to leave, but the brunette called her.
“Don’t go, Lizzy.” She ran to the door, causing her giant fake boobs to bounce on her chest. “Come inside and join us. Or let me come back to your room. We can have our own little private party. Just me and you.”
A huge smile spread across Lizzy’s face because she would love nothing more than to steal one of Sid’s whores away from him. But chicks weren’t her thing. “Sorry, doll. I’m strictly a meat and potatoes kinda girl.”
The brunette pouted with an exaggerated puffy lower lip.
Lizzy threw her a kiss just to irritate Sid, who was watching their exchange with a clenched jaw and eyes narrowed into thin slits, then she closed the door and went back to her dressing room where she plopped down on the couch and waited for showtime.