And then he just stands there—like some important biblical figure. Soaking up the energy, waiting until the tension and anticipation are wound up so tightly you can hear the frantic thumping of hearts belonging to every single girl in the crowd.
Another moment passes. Electricity buzzes through me like a live wire. I hold my breath. Clench my thighs. Silently chastise myself for the way my body responds, even though there’s no one on the planet that I hate more than him.
As if sensing my thoughts, he turns his head to the right, where I’m waiting offstage.
Slowly, he peruses my body from head to toe, pausing to give every curve a thorough once-over. Like he’s marking his territory.
Eyes locked on mine, he drags his tongue along his lip ring in such a lewd way it makes my knees buckle and my disdain for him rise to supersonic levels.
I tell myself to ignore the rush of heat that creeps up my vertebra, but I can’t.
Because he’s Phoenix Walker…
Rock god. Cocky asshole.
Thief.
And there’s no escaping his flames.
They’ll consume you long before you get a chance to snuff them out.
Despite already being burned by them once, I straighten my spine. Because although I’m on his stake and he’s ready to light the match, it doesn’t mean I won’t put up a fight.
He might burn me, but I’ll go down like Joan of Arc.
Face impassive, he turns back to the crowd as Memphis’s guitar intro starts.
George—the bassist they hired to fill in for Josh—follows close behind.
A moment later, Storm hits the drums…enhancing the buildup.
They’re so in sync, no one would ever know what’s really going on behind the scenes. Anyone watching them perform for the first time would never guess they lost their band member a little over three months ago.
Another bolt of energy zaps me and the momentum picks up.
And then it stops.
Phoenix was supposed to start singing, but he missed his cue.
Unfazed, Memphis and Storm play the intro again, causing even more cheers from the crowd.
But Phoenix stays silent.
Memphis and Storm play it a third time, but the same thing happens.
Ever the polite one, Phoenix gives the crowd his middle finger.
And then he jogs off stage.
While everyone else in the stadium is confused and disappointed, satisfaction pumps through my veins and I can’t help but smile.
Phoenix Walker was supposed to sing his greatest hit, just like he always does at the end of every concert…but he can’t.
Because I’m here.
“I’m George,” a voice behind me says before I get on the bus.
I spin around. With his red hair and scruffy beard, George isn’t conventionally hot, but he has a nice smile.
I stick out my hand. “I’m Lennon.”
He gives it a gentle shake. “Phoenix’s new babysitter.”
I’d laugh if it wasn’t the sad truth. “Pretty much.”
He makes a face. “Hope you stick around.”
“Me too.”
Only because I need the money.
Shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he glances at the bus. “The other guys don’t really like me, so things get kind of awkward when we’re in the same room. Figured I should give you a heads-up about it so you don’t peg me as an antisocial jerk.”
That’s…messed up. George seems sweet, so I can’t imagine why they’d have an issue with him.
Other than the fact he’s replacing an original band member they were all close with.
However, that’s not his fault.
“Phoenix doesn’t like me either,” I tell him in hopes he’ll no longer feel like a pariah.
Because I know all too well how awful that is.
A rueful grin splits his face. “Then we can be outcasts together.” He jerks his chin at the bus. “We should probably get on this thing before they leave without us.”
“Yeah.”
Although that might not be the worst thing in the world.
My mouth drops open as I walk up the steps because it’s bigger than I thought it would be.
There’s a small kitchen with a table and mini lounge area…one that Memphis and Storm are currently occupying.
Along with three pretty girls, whose limbs and lips are all over them.
They’re both so into their company, they don’t look up when I pass them.
“Come on,” George offers. “I’ll give you a tour.”
“Okay.”
Then I hear it.
“Fire her,” Phoenix barks loudly from somewhere in the back. “Now.”