Chapter 10
Sloane
He left me standing here in the coffee shop alone.
I’m racking my brain to try and understand what I did to make him grab me like that, to make him look at me like that.
It’s unnerving and also kind of exhilarating.
I’m probably number one on his “do not answer this call” list now, great.
I probably went too far and sounded like a complete lunatic with all the talk of mind control, and then going off on a tangent about Van.
Geez, Sloane, can you not be a normal person for like two seconds?
I’m about to walk out of the coffee shop when I get a text from Lydia.
Lyd: SLOANE! You won’t believe what I just got.
Sloane: Tell meeeeeeee!
Lyd: Reverb is doing a last-minute MEET AND GREET at Sanctum Studios in Hollowcrest, and we were formally invited. Oh, it’s tonight. Be ready for 6 pm. *kiss face emoji*
A meet and greet with Reverb is exactly what I need for my story.
I wonder if they will take questions. Maybe I could try to get the name of the music producer.
Wait. … did she say tonight? Did she say …
invited? That’s weird. Why would I be invite …
shit. I look down at my watch. That leaves me an hour to get ready for this.
I don’t bother with another text, pressing call instead. Lydia answers on one ring.
“Lydia! How did we get these tickets, and why are you just telling me now? What do you mean, we were invited? That’s literally in one hour.”
“Lo, come on. It’s Reverb. Of course I got tickets. I’m their number one fan, duh. Let’s be so for real right now, babe.” She sounds so giddy, and I can’t find it in me to be mad at her. She never second-guesses a single thing in life. It’s probably her best and worst quality.
“I know. You’re such a psycho sometimes. You know that?” I tease.
“I do. It’s one of my finer traits, if I do say so myself.” She giggles. “Your place or mine?”
“Mine. I have to change. I had a meeting with this professor. I …”
“Professor? Um, Lo. Why are you holding out on me? Do tell.”
I laugh. “It’s nothing like that, Lyd. It was a work thing.”
“Mhmm. Sure. I’ve read this book. I know how it ends. Hot professor takes naughty school girl —”
“Lydia! Seriously, it was just an interview for a story I’m working on,” I say, not sure if I’m trying to convince her or myself.
“Yeaaah. Okay, you and your stories.” I can hear the sarcasm in her voice. I imagine her using air quotes around the word stories, and I roll my eyes.
“I’ll meet you at yours. Bye, Lo,” she finishes, ending the call.
? ? ?
I arrive back at my apartment and quickly run upstairs to find Lydia already in my bathroom applying a dark plum lipstick.
She’s got winged eyeliner that accents her ocean blue eyes perfectly, and her dark brown hair is straightened today.
She’s wearing a pair of short, distressed black jean shorts with a cute red corset top.
She’s always been a beauty, both inside and out.
Perhaps slightly crazy, but that’s at least half of her charm.
“Hiiiiiii,” she sings, meeting my eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “Oh my God. You wore that to your interview with the hot professor?”
“Yeah. So? And I never said he was hot.”
She laughs. “Well, I’m sure he’s gonna be wishing you did after fantasizing about you and that hot librarian getup.”
“Lydia! He was not interested in anything like that,” I say, half convinced after the way he grabbed my wrist as he did. My hand rubs over the area.
“Hey, what did you mean when you said we were invited to this thing earlier?”
“I got this official-looking envelope that was addressed to Sloane Keenan and Lydia Aston. I opened it, and it was an invitation to the meet and greet. I didn’t ask questions, okay?
It’s Reverb,” she says, drawing out that last part.
“Whatever, and who cares. We got invited, and we’re going.
” She waves a hand at me. “Change, and hurry. We can’t be late.
” She blows me a kiss as she heads downstairs to wait for me.
I walk down the stairs after quickly changing. I chose a pair of black leather shorts, with a Gothic-patterned, long-sleeved bodysuit. I took out the claw clip, letting my hair fall in natural waves. We take my Volvo and make it to the studio fifteen minutes early.
“You know, if you aren’t fifteen minutes early, you’re late,” Lydia says, as we get out of the car and make our way to the line of people waiting to get inside. Another line.
“What?” I respond, confused. She’s always so random. It’s hard to keep up sometimes.
“I don’t know. That’s what my mom used to say.” She grabs my forearm and starts jogging toward the line to beat a group of people walking up from our left. I don’t even resist. I stupidly jog right along with her.
“Is this strictly a meet and greet, or will they do a question and answer portion?” I ask, looking around at the people in line with us.
“I don’t know. Does it matter? I think they are going to play something, and then we get to touch them for a picture,” she squeals.
“A picture? Of course.” Idiot. I should have figured, but my mind was only focused on finding out more about the frequency theory.
“Ahh, I’m so nervous,” she says, bouncing up and down on her toes.
“Why? They’re just normal people,” I say. I hate raining on her happy parade, but it’s the truth.
“You don’t get it.” She waves me off, and the line starts moving. “Oh, look! They’re letting people in now,” she says excitedly.
We move to the front of the line in about five minutes or so.
When we reach the doors, we’re greeted by a big, muscular guy with a permanent scowl, who I assume is a bodyguard.
He’s standing next to a shorter woman with shoulder-length blonde hair and dark brown eyes.
The woman reaches out to place a familiar-looking armband around our wrists.
“These are your entry bracelets. They allow us to keep a precise head count.” Her gaze meets mine, and her eyes linger, making me slightly uneasy. I’m almost positive that I see a flicker of recognition in the woman’s eyes, before she averts her gaze to look at Lydia.
“Okay, girls. Good to go. We hope you have a wonderful time.” She waves us forward and moves on to the people next in line.
We walk into an open seating area and take one of the chairs up front, like Lydia insists.
I hate being this close to the front of anything.
The unwanted attention is entirely too anxiety-provoking.
It’s like saying, “Hey, look at me. Hey, call on me!” It makes me want to vomit just thinking about it.
“It’s gonna be fine, Lo,” Lydia says, reading the emotions that are likely written all over my face right now.
I sigh. “Don’t worry about me. You know I’d attend a million of these for you,” I say, turning and grabbing her hands in mine. She’s been through a lot, and seeing the smile that’s currently on her face is enough to drag me front row and center every time.
“You’re the best, Lo.” She smiles, turning to face forward as four men in beautiful masks and black cloaks all emerge from behind a large curtain.
My eyes are drawn to one particular masked man as they take their places on the makeshift stage in front of us.
Before I can reach over and ask Lydia what’s going on, the music starts playing.
The song is a slower one that I recognize from their most recent album.
It’s beautiful and devastating, depicting the struggle of finally being seen but wanting to remain hidden.
It flows through the challenges of being in the spotlight and wishing the music were enough.
It makes me think of my conversation with Professor Riven when I went off on that tangent. I feel kind of sad for the band members
. Each note drags along my spine, eliciting goosebumps across my flesh.
When my eyes scan the band members and land on Van, I find that he’s already watching me.
It’s hard to tell if he’s looking at me or just in my direction with his mask on.
Nonetheless, my skin burns from the attention, causing me to shift in my seat.
He seems to notice, tilting his head to the right before averting his attention elsewhere, and finishing the song. He doesn’t look my way again.
They start a second song that’s more upbeat.
I turn toward Lydia, and her eyes catch my attention in an instant.
She has the same dazed look that she did when we were at the concert.
I turn, scanning the faces of the people seated behind me.
They all have the same strange look in their eyes.
Several of them, including Lydia, simultaneously fall to their knees with their hands up as if worshiping in a freaking cathedral.
I feel my pulse accelerate, and I’m internally panicking.
I grab Lydia as the second song ends. Her hands fall to her sides, and she looks up at me, smiling.
I shake her shoulders to get her attention.
“Lydia, are you okay?”
“Mmm.” She hums, swaying on her knees, still smiling like she’s the villain in a horror film. It is so creepy.
“Ly-d-yuh,” I say, looking into her glossy eyes, pupils nearly blown. As I’m about to drag her off the damn floor, she snaps out of it.
“Lo, what are you doing?” Her clear eyes assess my hands on either of her shoulders. I pull them away, assisting her to stand.
“Wasn’t that awesome?” she asks. I run my hands down my face, confused and frustrated.
“Yes, so good,” I say back flatly. “When are the pictures?” I ask, scanning the room.
“Oh my God. Now! Let’s go. We have the first two numbers.” She scrambles to grab her purse and drags me toward the back of the studio. We walk until we come face to face with that blonde woman who put the armbands on us earlier.
“Hi. I’m Lydia Aston, and this is Sloane Keenan. We have numbers 111 and 112 for the photo op.”
The blonde woman smiles, looking at me with that same strange expression from before. She looks down at her clipboard, crossing off two names from the top.
“Ah, yes. There you are. Come on in, enjoy.” She opens the door, and my eyes flick up, immediately looking into the very familiar mask of Van.