Page 34 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

“Then what happened after I left?”

“She came?—”

“Bet she did,”Goldie mutters.

I ignore her. “She returned my robe. And she left.”

They wait for more. I give them nothing.

“That’s it?” Tesla asks, disappointed.

I nod.

Still unsatisfied, she exhales sharply and drops it. “Well, either way, don’t let Priscilla catch on.”

We all nod in silent agreement. Records deals and contracts come with all sorts of perks. A full-time manager was one of them in our case. Before this summer’s tour, we managed ourselves just fine. But Sugar Sound prefers their talent focus on talent, not logistics.

So, we got Priscilla.

We were lucky they let Tesla keep designing our clothes—a passion of hers I wasn’t about to sacrifice. Asking for anything else would have been pushing it, so… we have Priscilla.

“What trouble did you two get into last night?” I ask, shifting the target off my back.

Goldie huffs. “Nothing. The hotel bar was closed for a private party, so we had to drink alone in our room.”

“Is that a complaint I’m hearing?” Tesla asks, her voice a dripping tease.

Goldie’s cheeks darken. “No.”

“You know, thereareother bars,” I point out as they eye-fuck each other. “ThisisVegas.”

“Yeah, but…” Goldie shrugs. “We wantedthisone.”

“All those rich boys lying around,” Tesla muses.

“Willing to open their wallets,” Goldie finishes.

They dissolve into giggles as I grab my things and disappear into the bathroom.

After a quick shower—Tesla and Goldie’s chatter a near-constant hum in the other room—we pull ourselves together, gather my notes, and head to Priscilla’s rental house for practice.

She could’ve stayed at the Botsford Plaza with the rest of us. Every opportunity was there. But the thought of running into her twin? Yeah, that was a deal breaker.

“Don’t exactly feel like riding the awkward train of pain this week,”she’d said.“And we need a practice space.”

Hard to argue with that logic.

There are fourteen days left until Halloween. Until the Battle of the Bands against Criminal Records. Not “plenty of time.” Fourteen days, each one needing to count if we’re going to beat them.

No. Notif.There’s noifin this plan.

We’re going to win. Full stop.

“Wehaveto win,” Priscilla says as Goldie and I shove the couch back against the living room wall, clearing space for Tesla to set up our gear.

“We’re going to win,” I say, eying the loveseat next. I nod at Goldie, and she grunts, already moving toward it.

“Good,” Priscilla mutters, chewing her bottom lip. Her wavy black hair is yanked up in a high ponytail, and her foot taps out her frustration against the hardwood floor. “I just wish we knew what songs they were debuting.”

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