“I don’t know you, and I don’t owe you shit. I don’t care if you believe me or not.” She tugged me closer, cupping my ass in one hand and lowering her lashes as she looked at me. “Right, baby?”
Used to playing along with her lies, I smirked down at her. She gave my ass a squeeze, making me giggle. “Right, babe.”
“Fucking dykes everywhere,” the guy grumbled as he stepped into the elevator.
I stiffened, offended. I wasn’t a lesbian, but I had plenty of friends who were. I took two steps after the group, ready to punch the jerk in the balls, but Riley caught me around the waist and locked me in place. “Easy there, killer. No use in breaking your hand on some jackass’s jaw. He’s drunk and stupid. We’ll take the next one,” she called when one of the girls started to hold the elevator doors open for us, unaware that I was about to bring her friend to his knees.
Riley didn’t let go of me until the numbers above the elevator showed it was two floors down. “Take a deep breath and count to twenty, just like we talked about. We don’t want to alert anyone that you’re the one here with me, right?”
I did as she said, breathing in deeply and counting to twenty before exhaling. She was right, and if she hadn’t just checked me, I might have found the guy down in the lobby and throat-punched him on the way out the door. I didn’t need the attention that would come from that kind of publicity. Everyone would have their phones out, snapping picture after picture, and even though I doubted a single one of them would recognize me, if they posted it to Facebook with the facial recognition software the social media site now had, it would tag me in the photo.
Then the press that always stalked my pages would start digging into where I was, what I was doing, and whom I’d assaulted. Which would then get back to my mother, and then it would all be over. I was one more strike away from having to move back home, and I would rather have sold my soul to the devil himself than have to return to that place.
As my blood began to cool, I hugged her around the neck. “I love you, Riles.”
She hugged me back. “Love you more, babe.”
Another elevator opened, showing that it was crammed full of people already. “You two coming?” someone called out. “We can squeeze you two little things in here with us.”
Riley lifted her brows at me. “What do you think? It looks pretty full.”
“No way,” I shook my head. “My claustrophobia is making me dizzy just looking at that death trap waiting to happen.”
She waved them on, and the door closed once again. “We can just take the stairs if you want,” she offered.
“No, I know you and stairs. I want you to have a good time today, not break your ankle before the festival even starts.” I pressed the call button again, and moments later, it opened.
Luckily there were only a few people inside, all of them with bracelets on proclaiming them VIPs for the event. I tugged on my own wristband, noting the difference in colors between ours and those everyone else was wearing. Theirs were dark purple mixed with black, their VIP logos in yellow with white writing. Riley’s and mine were completely black with no writing on the little VIP tag with a chip inside that was supposed to get us into the VIP areas and our free merchandise.
We weren’t just VIPs, though. Riley won the ultimate experience, which meant we got to go backstage to check everything out behind the scenes. We were going to be able to hang out with rockers who had been my salvation during the dark years of my childhood. Guys whose music—their fucking words—had touched and eased something in my soul and made each day I lived under the same roof as my mother and stepfather a little easier.
Downstairs, a black van was already waiting in front of the hotel. Riley walked up to the driver and told him who we were. Opening the door for us, the guy helped us into the back and then got behind the wheel. The drive to the festival should have only taken ten minutes according to my phone, but traffic was already backed up before we even got to the exit.
The driver bypassed our exit and took the next one. Frowning, I didn’t say anything as the man took several backstreets. Riley was busy playing on her phone, not paying attention to what was going on around us, but I was too paranoid to let a stranger drive us without being vigilant.
He stopped at the red light, but when it turned green and he hit the gas, the van barely coasted through the intersection. I heard a sputter, and the man cursed as he pulled to the side of the road.
“What?” Riley asked, finally lifting her head. “Are we here?”
“We’re still about five miles away,” the driver informed her. “But we seem to be having some mechanical issues, ma’am. Let me take a look to see what’s going on.”
Ten minutes later, he was still under the hood of the van, his phone to his ear as he spoke to his boss. I sat in the open door, but the slight breeze did nothing for the sweat already beaded on my brow and upper lip. I could hear every word the driver was saying, but thankfully, none of it made me think this was all a ploy to kidnap us and force us to become sex slaves or some other freaky Criminal Minds kind of shit.
Riley fanned herself with her hand, sweat glistening on her body. “This sucks!” she complained. “We’re going to be here all day and miss all the best newbie bands.”
“Yeah, we probably should have just gotten an Uber.” I pulled up the app on my phone, still keeping my ear open to what the driver was saying.
When he said it was going to take at least thirty minutes for someone to come pick us up, I ordered us a car. I was hot, thirsty, and tired of sitting on the side of the damn road. We could have walked it, but I probably would have ended up with sunstroke before we ever got there.
“She’s only like two miles away. Should be here soon,” I assured Riley. “Keep your eyes open for a green Mini Cooper.”
“Sweet! Loves you, Mar-Mar.”
I shook my head. “Loves you, Riles.”
As soon as the twentysomething purple haired chick pulled to a stop beside the van, Riley was jumping out of the back—much to the shuttle driver’s chagrin. He sputtered out apologies and begged us not to go, but I slid into the back of the blissfully air-conditioned car and gave the man a finger-wave.
“The AC good enough?” the Uber driver asked as we fastened our seat belts. “I can adjust it for you if you need.”
“This is perfect,” Riley groaned as she lifted her shirt to expose her stomach to the air-conditioning vents. “You’re an angel.”
The driver winked in the rearview mirror and merged into traffic. “Hold on to your tits, ladies. I’ll have you there in no time.”
Chapter 2
Amara
The closer we got to the festival grounds, the more congested traffic became. Half a dozen state troopers were out directing traffic. By the time we got to the drop-off area, it was nearly noon. Riley was acting like a squirrel hyped up on Red Bull as she bounced around, trying to see over the crowds and fence to get a look at the stages and vendor tents.
“They’re already doing soundcheck,” she whined as we dropped our phones into the baskets and stepped through the metal detectors.
I snatched up my phone as soon as I was through, checking the time and confirming which stage we wanted to go to first, as two guys dressed in T-shirts cut off well above their belly buttons and matching superhero underwear bumped into us. Their outfits stood out a little more than some of the others, walking around like this was any other day to them. Spider-Man and Deadpool were carrying pretzels, and we had passed a gang of Stormtroopers before we even got in the entrance line.
“If we go now, we can get up front for the Blonde Bombshells show. They go on in twenty minutes,” I told Riley.
“Hell yeah. I’m dying to see those bitches. Roanna gets my panties wet every single time I hear her voice.”
As we walked, I spotted a drinks vendor and grabbed us a huge lemonade to share. I crunched on the ice as we found the stage and pushed our way to the front. Riley climbed the security fence that kept
everyone a good ten feet back from the stage. Men in yellow polos with “STAFF” on their backs stood at attention, glowers on their faces as they watched the crowd behind us.
I was hoping it was too early for crowd-surfing, because I wanted to enjoy the all-female band’s set rather than watching our backs to make sure we didn’t get kicked in the head. Two blond chicks were already doing soundcheck. They were dressed in jeans and the band’s new T-shirts. Riley had bought us each one once their online store had gone live just a few weeks before.
“I love you, London,” Riley called.
London lifted her head, a huge grin on her face. “I love you too, beautiful.”
Behind us, the crowd was getting rowdy as the two bandmembers continued their soundcheck. The majority of the people at my back were male, most of whom were on their way to being drunk and—by the smell of the air surrounding us—high.
“Where’s Roanna?” I heard some guy ask from right behind us.
“I caught a glance of her on the side of the stage,” someone else answered.
“Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to have her deep-throat my cock.” The first guy laughed.
Riley gave me a disgusted look, and I shook my head, silently telling her to keep her mouth shut. It was too early in the day, and we didn’t want to be kicked out for fighting. She gave me a pout, but I only took another drink of our lemonade, chomping harder on the ice.
London and her bandmate, Genesis, left the stage, and a few moments later, the entire band came out. Aubree on drums, London and Genesis with their guitars. The three had the crowd yelling, but as soon as Roanna stepped out onto stage, I became deaf from the roar around us. Riley and I were screaming right along with the rest of them, however.
We’d been following the Blonde Bombshells from the moment we saw them live at First Bass back in Los Angeles during one of our girls’ nights out with Lindsey. From the very first song, we became fans. And even though we didn’t have time to go to the club to see them every Thursday night, we kept up with them on YouTube. They had a growing following and posted videos of some of their live performances regularly. When it was announced the band had been signed by a record label and would be at some of the festivals around the country with Tainted Knights, we had wanted to attend one just to see them.
Two songs into the band’s set, however, Riley and I were regretting getting so close to the stage. The crowd behind us was rowdy, hyped up on booze, weed, and testosterone. There were maybe a handful of other chicks around us, but they were all being pushed aside by the guys who seemed desperate to get as close to the stage as physically possible.
Riley, still standing with her feet on the metal bars of the fence was bumped and fell forward. Even over the drums, I could hear her scream as she toppled over and landed on her back. Two of the guys in yellow polos raced forward, helping her up.
Riley shoved their hands away, dusting off her ass and glaring at the guys behind me.
“Are you okay?” I called, but I knew she couldn’t hear me. Still, she was able to read my lips and nodded.
She started to climb back over the fence to join me, but a huge guy in a black T-shirt appeared and said something to her. Riley’s eyes widened, and she nodded, then pointed to me. Turning, the guy didn’t even say a word as he effortlessly lifted me over the fence. I gulped, but I didn’t bristle in outrage. I had no clue what was going on, but my roommate was smirking so I knew this guy wasn’t going to kidnap and murder us.
I hoped.
Riley grabbed my hand, and we followed the guy around the side of the stage. For the rest of the band’s set, that was where we stayed. We had the best view possible now and no one to ruin it for us.
Roanna said another goodbye to the crowd, who were roaring for one more song, but she zoned them out as she followed the others over to where we stood.
My ears were trying to become accustomed to the quieter sounds around me, so it took me a few seconds to hear what the Bombshells were saying to Riley.
“Are you okay?” Genesis was asking, dusting off a few more smears of dirt that still clung to Riley’s back. “That looked painful just watching.”
“I’m good. Nothing broken.” Riley tightened her hand on mine, the only sign she was inwardly screaming at having the attention of these four badass blondes. “Thanks for telling that scary dude to bring us over.”
“We didn’t,” London told her honestly. “Bruce didn’t give us a chance to.” She glanced over her shoulder. “It must have been her.”
Her was the redhead in a Demon’s Wings shirt and distressed jeans currently giving the team of guys in the yellow staff polos hell. The stud in her nose flashed in the sunlight as she took on the entire group of men. “If you lazy fuckheads can’t keep the girls safe out here, then what use are you?” she snarled as she got in the face of one of the older staff members, her long red hair flying around her shoulders.
The guy, somewhere in his late thirties at least, flexed his hands into fists as if he were aching to hit her. His nostrils flared, but he remained quiet as she continued to dish out abuse. If he touched her, however, he was going to be a dead man. Emmie Armstrong was the one person no one in the music world ever wanted to mess with. Taking her on was a losing battle. She managed some of the hottest bands with her two partners, but she was also the wife of the lead singer of Demon’s Wings, Nik Armstrong, and her brother was the band’s drummer, Jesse Thornton.
I had been following Emmie’s career from the moment I heard my first Demon’s Wings song. The band themselves were freaking amazing, legends in their own rights. But their manager—she was the kind of badass no one ever fucked with. She was my idol, the role model I had always looked up to. Lord knew it had never been my own mother.
“Do you even realize that if this is how the day is starting, by the time my guys go on tonight, the entire godsdamn place will be pure pandemonium?” She poked him in the chest with the clipboard in her hand. “Get your men straightened out, and up the manpower in front of every stage. Because if something happens during any of my other bands’ sets, you will be the one explaining to the coordinators why we won’t even think about accepting the invite ever again.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the guy gritted out.
She threw him one more withering glare before climbing the stairs to the stage where we still stood with the four Blondes. The glare turned to concern when she spotted Riley. “You okay?”
“I’ll live,” she said with a smirk. “Thanks for the muscle, by the way.”
Emmie shrugged. “These idiots have no use running a festival this size if they can’t shell out the manpower for proper security.” Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down at the screen. She typed one-handedly even as she turned her gaze on the rockers standing beside us. “Ladies, remember what we talked about. The rest of the day is your own once the meet-and-greet is over. But no walking around on your own. Either stay together or get Bruce to escort you around. These drunk fucks are just itching to get one of you alone.”
“We’ll be fine,” Aubree told her dismissively.
The look Emmie gave her had both Riley and me shivering. “Look, I realize I’m not your usual handler out here. Natalie had some last-minute issues with her daughter that kept her at home. Otherwise, she would be right here, and she could have dealt with your asses. That doesn’t mean you dismiss my cautions because you think you know better. Trust me, little girl, I’ve been doing this shit a hell of a long time longer than you. So if I’m telling you to be aware of your surroundings at all times and to travel in a group or with the muscle, then I have plenty of reasons to do so. Stay in fucking groups or with Bruce. If I see you walking around here by yourself, I’m not going to be happy. Clear?”
The drummer exhaled dramatically. “Yeah, Mom. I hear you loud and clear.”
Emmie’s lips twitched, but her face blanked over before the grin had a chance to make an appearance. Her huge green eyes sparkled with amusement though as she turned back to us.
That gaze landed on our wrists, taking in the bracelets. “Good gods, you’re the winners of the contest?”
“That would be us,” Riley confirmed. “I guess we get to hang out more later.”
“I was supposed to meet your shuttle earlier. But the damn thing never showed. Did you have issues?”
“It broke down on the way here,” I informed her, pushing down my nervousness and excitement at seeing this woman in the flesh and speaking for the first time now that my hearing was finally returning to normal. “It was too hot and too long a time to wait for a replacement, so we took an Uber.”
“Well, I’m glad you two made it.” She extended her hand, and we each shook it. I caught sight of the huge rock on her ring finger. The engagement and wedding bands both sparkled in the overhead sunlight, nearly blinding me. “Actually, if you want, these four can keep you company throughout the day. It might keep them out of trouble.”
“If you had given us ten seconds, we were going to ask them to hang out with us,” London grumbled, but she gave us a wink. “And they look more like trouble than we do.”
Emmie’s eyes scanned us from head to toe, and I suddenly felt like she could see every one of my secrets and imperfections. Less than a second passed before she was grinning freely. “You might be right. Keep an eye on that one,” she advised, nodding right at me. “I like her, but she’s the troublemaker.”
I laughed, taking her observation as a compliment.
Riley snorted. “You’re not wrong.”
“I rarely am,” Emmie muttered half under her breath. “I have shit to do, but you girls have fun. Your bracelets were activated the minute you were scanned through security. I actually added a little more than the usual merchandise funds to your accounts. Drinks and food are on me anywhere they take festival credit.”
Turning, she walked away without a backward glance, her phone pressed to her ear. Tearing my eyes off my idol’s retreating back, I focused on the four Bombshells. “We really don’t want to bother you. You don’t have to waste your time hanging out with us.”