Page 7 of Speak of the Devil

“Called. Multiple times, but I didn’t want to sound desperate.”

“I think we’re past that point.” Tugging the basket of chips closer, she adds,

“Why rush things? You should enjoy the title of Mrs. for a while.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the chaos of my life.”

“It’s quite exciting compared to your normal day-to-day.”

“True, but I’d rather deal with bickering retirees at Parkdale than be caught up in this mess.” I pluck a chip from the basket, already knowing it’s going to be hard to return to my patients when I’m so close to losing it all. “I don’t need this kind of excitement. I need this resolved, or the house will go to the next highest bidder.”

“Only you would luck into accidentally marrying a rock star and not want to take advantage of the situation.” She smiles from the heart, saying, “You’re too good for LA, Cate.”

“Then why do I always fall for jerks?”

“Because they were fun when you met them.”

“And then they show me who they really are.” The last one sent me an invoice for an Uber because I chose a restaurant in Pasadena, which was too far for him to travel to meet me. That’s his version. My side is that he thought he’d get laid on the first date because he bought me a burger at Hal’s Burger House. I never paid.Asshole. “I’m starting to think Prince Charming doesn’t exist.”

“I gave up on that fairy tale a long time ago, but for you, I hope it comes true. Maybe Shane Faris?—”

“Shane Faris,” I whisper, not meaning to say it out loud as I roll his name around my thoughts. The images of him at the bonfire are still blazed into my memories.

“What are the chances?”

I think about it, toying with the idea of a coincidence. “One in a billion based on his fame. The odds are better, I suppose, that I’ve met him. Still, what are the chances . . .”

Turning to the server, she orders, “I’ll have the chicken tacos with a guacamole salad on the side.”

When a fresh basket of chips is delivered, Luna immediately grabs one, and says, “I can’t resist.” I laugh, though my mind is still on the coincidence that Shane Faris and I were put on the same marriage certificate by accident. Tapping her glass, she pulls me from my thoughts. “We’re having another, right? Because I need to tell you about this date I went on last night, and you need to tell me how you know Shane Faris. You kind of left that very important tidbit out.”

“I took the day off. Might as well make the most of it.” I catch the server’s attention and order, “Another round, please.”

3

Shane Faris

I feellike the center of the fucking universe on stage. I’m a rock god with twenty-two thousand disciples of Faris Wheel singing the lyrics back to us.

No drugs nor alcohol can beat the high of performing live for fans who can’t get enough of you. I have no complaints, but the three months of touring with only a handful of breaks makes it hard on the mind and body.

My hands are blistered and bloody from giving my all every night on the drum kit. I lost a drumstick mid-song when pain shot through my wrist. But there’s no better high than killing it on percussion during the solo to end the show.

I won’t disappoint.I never do.

That’s why the ladies love me. Well, that and my?—

“Shane Faris on drums!” Nikki says, closing the concert. “Thank you, and good night!”

Grabbing the shirt I pulled off halfway through the show, I walk to the edge of the stage and toss it into the audience. Plenty of beauties vie for my attention, but they’ll have to be satisfiedwith my sticks. I give them to security to choose whoever he wants to give them to. He’ll probably get laid. It always works for me. With a wave, I leave the stage, traveling down the steps.

I ruffle my hand over my hair to shake off the sweat dripping from the ends and move into the dark, where a curtain is pushed aside for me.

“Great show,” Nikki says before drinking water. Soaked strands of her hair stick to the sides of her face. “But I lost my hairband on stage.” She lifts her hair and rolls the cold bottle of water along the back of her neck. She kills it on stage every time she walks out there, captivating the audience with her vocal range and the edge she’s mastered to rock our songs.

No doubt she’s been the key, but we all must hold up our part of the show, or it falls apart for the band.

“I sweat my ass off.” I reach for a bottle of water. It won’t be enough to replace the water I lost during the performance, but it’s a start. “These summer tours are brutal.”

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