“Everyone knows that,” Chaser says. “So?”
Val flaps her hands in the air, and my stomach drops. “Kickstart’s developed a bit of a party reputation.” She drops her gaze. “Their sobriety coach doesn’t want you anywhere near them.”
Ouch. If I wasn’t a witness to the constant partying going on in the guys’ apartment, I’d be offended on Kickstart’s behalf.
Chaser glares in Jacob’s direction.
Jacob shrugs. “Hypocrites.”
“Sobriety coach?” Garrett scoffs. “What the fuck is that?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” Val snaps. “They spent an assload of money to get clean, and the record company isn’t taking chances. They sent someone out on the road to keep them away from all chemical temptations.”
“That’s the least rock-n-roll thing I’ve ever heard of.” Jacob slaps his leg and doubles over.
“They’re professionals who want to maintain their career,” Val counters. “Jared almost died of an overdose.” Her prickly demeanor softens. “Please, prove them wrong. Behave this weekend.”
“Whatever.” Jacob shoos her away.
“We’ll be there in a few,” Chaser promises her.
I nudge him with my elbow. I thought we had other plans.
“Well, that was awkward as fuck,” Alvin mutters as soon as Val leaves.
“Andrew fucking Lane actually came through.” Garrett lightly punches Chaser’s shoulder. “Good job.”
“Val can’t even get the guy to return her phone call.” Jacob shakes his head. “But Andrew delivered him on a silver platter.”
“It was cool of him, for sure,” Chaser says. “But Val’s been working her ass off for us for years.”
Garrett and Jacob share a look that isn’t missed by Chaser. “What?”
“Working her ass off? She couldn’t even defend us to some pansy sobriety coach,” Jacob argues.
Chaser just stares at him.
“Forget that. Who cares what those old farts think.” Garrett plops down on the couch and stretches his arms across the back. “Thom Woodworth approached us about managing the band.”
“When?”
“Earlier.” He smirks at Chaser. “You’re not the only one keeping secrets.”
“I wasn’t keeping secrets.” Chaser blows out a breath. “Val’s done a lot for us. We wouldn’t be here tonight if she hadn’t gotten us these shows.”
“Agreed,” Alvin says.
Garrett holds up his hands in surrender. “Agreed.”
Music reverberates through the building.
“Sounds like Shooting Fences has started.” Alvin takes a swig of the brown liquid in his glass. “You going to watch?”
“Yeah.” Chaser grabs a shirt and ballcap, slipping on both before leading me outside.
It’s even more crowded in the hallway now, although the bulk of people seem to be up ahead, watching the band. A few girls rush over to Chaser and ask him to sign various items.
While I’m standing to the side, trying to stay out of the way, something rough skims over a spot on my back left bare by my dress. “He must be riding high,” Andrew says from behind me.
I jump and turn, shaking off his fingers.
He smiles down at me and touches his leather jacket. “Are you cold?”
“I’m fine. It’s hot back here.”
He sweeps his gaze over me. “Yes. It is.”
My jaw drops, but before I come up with a response, shrill screams pierce the air.
“Andrew Lane! Oh my God!” One of the girls Chaser had been signing an autograph for rushes toward us.
“Fuck,” Andrew mutters. “I should’ve waited.”
He genuinely seems stressed to intrude on Chaser’s moment, which erases my annoyance over our encounter.
I stay put while Andrew swaggers over and steers the rogue fan Chaser’s way. “Wasn’t this dude friggin’ amazing tonight?” he asks, slinging an arm over Chaser’s shoulders.
“Yes!”
Andrew signs a bunch of stuff and tolerates a lot of photos before a big guy waddles over and interrupts. “Andrew, they’re looking for you.”
“Thanks, dude.” He slaps the guy’s shoulder.
“Ladies, if you’ll excuse us.” Andrew motions for me to join him and Chaser.
“Where are we going?” Chaser asks.
“That photographer I told you about is here.”
“Do you want me to grab Alvin and the others?” I ask, tripping over my heels to keep up with Andrew’s long-legged pace.
“I sent Benny to fetch them.”
Even though Andrew’s not playing tonight, he somehow managed to procure a room for himself backstage. Vinnie and a woman with a camera around her neck are chatting when we enter.
“Oh, wow. Chaser Adams.” She rushes over. “Judy Herlands. Big fan of yours. Great performance tonight.”
“Thank you.” Chaser shakes her hand.
“Mallory Dove, right?” Judy extends her hand to me. “So great to meet you.”
“Uh, thank you.”
“Judy’s with HIT Magazine,” Andrew explains.
“Well, I just started…” She blushes and taps her camera.
“Yeah, so we thought it would be cool if she got like shots of us hanging together backstage.” Andrew’s so excited, I’m expecting him to blast through the roof any second now. “Something different than their usual pieces to help Judy stand out at her new job.”
She blushes, and, once again, I’m struck by how thoughtful Andrew can be at times.
“Our readers love stories about friendships between their favorite bands.” Judy gestures toward me. “And rock star romances are always huge, of course.”