Page 105 of Beautiful Distraction

I shake my head as a sign that I don’t want anything. “Howare we guests? We only won tickets.”

Josh helps himself to a chilled can of soda and hands one toMandy. “I know someone who knows someone,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Told you.” Mandy shoots me a warning look. “And we’re notgoing to be ungrateful brats, are we, Ava?”

“Of course not,” I mumble.

The place begins to fill with people. Spotlights begin to gooff, bathing the entire place in a dim glow. The first lights of cameras andsmartphones flash all around us.

“Come on. I think they’re getting started,” Josh says.

We follow him down the stairs to a lower level, whereseveral security guys are standing guard, all sporting the same intimidatingexpression. We take our place in front of the barriers just in time before theopening act starts the show.

The crowd goes wild as the lights go on. It’s all so brightI think I need sunglasses.

“TAYLOR! TAYLOR!TAYLOR!”

“Taylor, I’ll give youa BJ.”

“Take me, Taylor. Takeme.”

“K. TAYLOR! I LOVEYOU!”

I’ve never heard so much shrieking in my life.

I’ve never seen so many cameras flashing.

And then Mile High hits the stage, and the crowd erupts incheers. Even Mandy’s shrieking in my ears.

Damn. I wish I had thought of packing some earplugs before Igo deaf.

I stare at the four guys in snug blue jeans and black T-shirts.Their faces are painted white; black traces their eyes; their features arehidden behind beautiful carnival masks that build a dramatic contrast to thesimulated fire burning in huge baskets scattered across the stage. I have toadmit that they look like living art, which I’m sure is the image they’ve beengoing for.

The guitarist strums the guitar in what I recognize as aslow, modern rock version of Mozart’s Magic Flute, while the vocalist standsrooted to the spot, head lowered over the mic, his dark hair swaying in asimulated breeze.

He’s hot.

Mandy got that part right.

He’sreallyhot.Even though the moving shadows cast by the fires make it hard to see much ofhim, I can tell by his muscular body.

With the mask, he’s like a fantasy.

No wonder women all over the world are going bat-shit crazyover him.

They probably think he lives up to their fantasies evenwithout the mask.

“I wonder what would happen if he took it off, you know, themask, the makeup, “ I say, amused, unable to keep back a snort. “He’s probablysome old dude with a good body and nothing else going for him.”

A guy’s walking past, handing out drinks to the VIP guests,AKA us.

“He isn’t that old,” Josh shouts and passes me a Pepsi can.

“How can you tell?” I ask.

“I just know.”

“They always play some part of the Magic Flute at thebeginning of each gig,” Mandy shouts. “It’s their anthem or something.”

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