Page 36 of Fame and Obsession

Gage flashes me a megawatt grin. “No worries, Pheebs. It’s only the opening act You’re not missing anything.” He pads it with a wink. “Not impressed. I’d rather watch you sulk.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Yes, you are. You don’t even like hard rock.”

“Is this where that whole ‘gift horse in the mouth’ saying originated?”

His huge smile fades. “Thanks for tonight, Pheebs. It’s cool being here with you.”

His seriousness startles me. There’s so much I want to say, but I know Gage has given as much emotion as he’s willing to concede. So, I settle for brevity. “Ditto.”

“Besides,” he adds, his voice brittle. “If I didn’t dress that bod of yours, you wouldn’t get laid in a sausage factory.”

I grin. “You’re probably right.”

As soon as the lights lower, the crowd goes insane. High-pitched screams fill my ears while swarms of bodies rush the stage. Apparently needing no introduction, the band walks out to thunderous applause.

I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of the stage. “Are they ready?”

Gage doesn’t answer. He’s too busy kneeling on top of his chair, screaming the band’s name while pumping his arm in the air.

“Gage!”

Turning, he scrunches his face. “What?”

“I can’t see anything. Is the band ready to play?”

His head bobs in affirmation. “Yeah, sorry—too distracted filing images away for my spank bank.”

“You said the lead singer is hot?”

“Jesus, hot is for amateurs, Pheebs. Julian Bale is sex on three legs. He’s my dream fuck.”

“Whoa, dream fuck pole position? I’ve never seen you fanboy over a guy before.”

Disgust blankets his face. “Wanting to bang Julian Bale is not about fanboy’ing! It’s pure animal lust. I know how he does it.” His eyes glaze over as he turns his attention back toward the stage. “But that man screws you nine ways till Sunday with just a look.”

An unwelcome flutter blooms inside me. I’ve seen that kind of look firsthand. My mind starts to drift jus as a hard guitar riff takes command of the venue. Five loud skins crash and a hi-hat hurls from the drum set.

Then everything goes silent.

“What’s happening?”

“Shhh!” Gage hisses, his eyes wide with anticipation.

As soon as I hear it, it’s like a knife to the chest. A low, sultry voice belts out lyrics, and I hold my breath until it burns. A familiar, gravelly timbre brands me with every vibration.

Oh, my God…that voice.

I need to see him, but I can’t move. My legs weaken as an animalistic growl sends my heart into a free-fall. Once the vibrations quiet, the band detonates with an explosion of instruments that shake the room.

People lose their minds—including Gage.

“C’mon, baby doll!” Grabbing my hand, he pulls me off my chair. I barely have time to find my footing before he tucks me close against him and leads me into the crowd. We make it as far as the second row before smacking into a wall of bodies.

The band is on fire, prompting flurries of thrashing limbs and screams as multi-colored lights flash around us. Overhead, a screen plays the band’s recent video.

I glance up to find Gage’s lips curled in a devilish laugh.

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