As Dust Dances (Play On 2)

I glanced up at him without really looking at him. “I’m fine.”

“If you’re worried about my staff recognizing you, they already know about you. They signed a confidentiality agreement. No one from my office will leak your whereabouts to the press.”

That was something, at least.

The elevator doors opened before I could respond and then I jolted a little at the feel of his hand on my lower back as he led me out into a huge open-plan office filled with people. This room wasn’t cold. There were music posters and artwork decorating every available space on the walls. The reception desk was directly across from the elevator.

“Mr. O’Dea,” the young man behind the reception desk greeted us without a smile. I reckoned it was because Killian wasn’t a smiley guy and the receptionist knew it.

“Justin, this is Skylar. Skylar, Justin is our receptionist.”

“Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand across the desk and I shook it, still feeling dazed. “May I offer you a drink? Water? Tea, coffee? We have hot chocolate.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Is Oliver in the recording studio?” Killian asked. “I want to start the tour there.”

“Let me check.” Justin picked up the phone and pressed a button. After a second he said, “Ollie, Mr. O’Dea is here with Miss Finch and would like to know if you’re happy for them to come see you first? . . . Great, I’ll let him know.” He hung up and nodded. “Booth Two is free.”

“Good. Tell Eve she’s needed.”

“Mr. O’Dea, I’m here!” A young woman of Asian descent scooted around the reception desk from our right. She grinned as she skidded to a stop in front of us. Her dark hair was piled high into a messy bun and she wore thick-framed, green cat-eye glasses that sparkled with a few strategically placed crystals. Her Killers T-shirt hung off one shoulder and was short at the hem on the opposite side, showing a glimmer of her pale waist. She’d matched the casual tee with skinny jeans with turn-ups and a pair of battered green Converse.

She looked about sixteen but had to be older.

“I heard you’d arrived,” she said a little breathlessly, like she’d run from one end of the floor to the other. I suspected she might have.

Killian gestured to her. “Skylar, this is Eve, my assistant. She’ll be happy to help you with anything you need.”

“Hi.” I stuck out my hand and her eyes lit up as she shook it, holding it in both of hers. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” She refused to let go of my hand. “I promised myself I wouldn’t fangirl but your music was the soundtrack of my life for a while there.”

A complicated flush of delight and agitation traveled through me. It was the greatest compliment in the world but also a horrible reminder that I was no longer just Skylar: Busker Girl. I was definitely, one hundred percent, Skylar Finch again.

I gave her what I hoped was a warm smile. “That means a lot. Thanks.”

“Eve,” Killian warned, and the smile fell off her face as she dropped my hand.

“I didn’t mean to be forward. I’m sorry.”

I shot Killian a quelling look and fell into step beside Eve as her boss led us down a hallway on the left side of reception, taking us past a bunch of closed doors. “You’re fine,” I promised her.

She gave me a grateful smile.

The silence among the three of us felt awkward, and I needed to distract myself so I wouldn’t faint from my overwhelming emotions. “How old are you, Eve?”

“Twenty-one. I graduated from Glasgow Uni this summer and was lucky enough to get this job.”

“What’s the goal?” I hoped I didn’t sound interrogative. I just needed her to keep talking, keep distracting me.

“Goal?”

“Producing, A&R, publicist . . . ?”

“Oh. A&R. I love music.” Her hands fluttered in front of her body in nervous excitement. “It would be, like, absolute heaven to spend my days finding raw talent and then watching it grow into something mature and successful. I mean, like, imagine being the person who found Tellurian. Music is what matters, you know. It’s the soundtrack to every important moment in life. Your music helped me through so much my last year at high school and then uni. My parents’ divorce. The guy I lost my virginity to breaking up with me and then sleeping with a girl in my dorm the very next day. My turtle dying. All of it.”

I smiled at the pained look Killian threw me. So his assistant was a “wear your heart on your sleeve” type of girl. She couldn’t have been more his opposite.

I loved it.

“I’m sorry you went through all that,” I told her. “But it means a lot that my music helped.”

“Oh, it did. You were the soul of that band. Macy has a good voice but it doesn’t have that thing that makes you feel what she’s singing, plus the songwriting isn’t nearly as good. It’s no wonder their sales aren’t great.”

The mention of my band and their new lead singer made the breath catch in my throat and Killian whipped around, halting us. He glared at Eve. “You want to keep your job, keep your mouth shut. Get Skylar and me a coffee and meet us at Booth Two.”

Two bright splotches of pink appeared on her cheeks and her dark eyes widened as they glimmered with embarrassed tears. She turned and darted back down the hallway as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her feet.

I turned to Killian.

“She knows better than to get familiar with the artists,” he said defensively.

“I asked her the questions.” I shook my head, grateful for this reminder. “You can be such a dick, O’Dea.”

He walked away, hiding his expression as he said over his shoulder, “Try to watch your language while you’re here. Oliver’s waiting.”

Oliver turned out to be the recording studio manager. He was a big guy in his late forties who sported a very impressive beard. He wouldn’t have looked out of place on Sons of Anarchy.

After we exchanged greetings, he shot a questioning look between Killian and me, seeming to sense the current chill between us. Killian ignored him and let me into the sound booth so I could get a feel for it. Memories flooded in as I stood inside, staring out at Killian and Oliver on the other side of the glass.

Recording with the band felt like a lifetime ago. As I looked around, I could see them on the other side of the glass, watching me work on the vocals. Brandon couldn’t sing but Austin and Micah could, so sometimes they were in the booth with me doing backing vocals. Their deep laughter filled my ears. I could almost feel Brandon hugging me and telling me, “good job, Sky.”

I didn’t know what I felt for Micah anymore, but I was absolute in my feelings for Austin and Brandon. I missed them. I missed them so much it hurt.

Once upon a time, they were my family. They were sometimes the only thing holding me together when we were out doing all the publicity and marketing shit that I hated.

How would I be able to do this without them?

My chest tightened, and I felt like the glass wall was closing in on me. By the time I hurried to the door, Killian was already there, pulling it open.

“Skylar?” He reached for me but I pushed past him, needing air.

As I threw open the studio door, I collided with Eve and gasped as hot coffee soaked the front of my cashmere sweater.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Eve’s hands flailed above my chest, as two now-empty coffee cups rolled at our feet.

“You okay?” Killian grabbed my shoulder, turning me toward him.

I pulled the sweater away from my body. “I’m fine. The sweater shielded me from the worst of its heat.”

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, Mr. O’Dea.”

“Eve,” I put a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her, “I collided with you.” And the collision had stopped what had felt like the beginning of a panic attack. “We’re good.”

She still looked slightly terrified of Killian, so I glared at him, trying to communicate with my eyes that he needed to reassure her. His lips pinched together for a moment but then he offered, “Eve, it wasn’t your fault.”