Page 27 of Backstage

“What’s up, Princess, too cheap for you to party?” He raises an eyebrow in defiance.

I roll my eyes, and gracefully show him my middle finger. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been wearing the same clothes since yesterday. I stink. I can’t go to an exclusive party with you celebrities and scare everyone away because I look like I’ve come out of the barn.”

Damian laughs, and so do my bandmates. Ungrateful traitors! “Sid brought something for you all to change into. It’s over there.” He nods his head down the hallway from where he came.

We follow him to one of the many rooms in this maze that is the record company building. I’ve been here regularly for months now and I still haven’t learned how to navigate between the areas reserved for different purposes, from administration to marketing, to floors of rehearsal rooms of different sizes and importance. I’m sure there are still dozens of floors I have yet to discover.

“Why does Sid have to dress us even off stage? Aren’t we good the way we are?” Luke whispers in my ear.

I turn to him and find him looking worried. He’s not a fan of what the stylist wants him to wear on stage either; he’d much prefer the jeans and t-shirts he always wears.

“Apparently, to tour with the Gods of Rock, we have to dress appropriately. Even off stage,” I giggle as my partner rolls his eyes.

“I’m here. I can hear you making sarcastic jokes about us, you know that, right?” Damian raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, I know, honey. I wasn’t hiding. Did I give you that impression?” I make an innocent face that makes my bandmates burst out laughing.

“You’re gonna drive me crazy,” he whispers, shaking his head like he’s reminding himself.

Less than half an hour later, he gets his revenge when I find myself squeezed into a pair of jeans so tight I can’t even breathe. A top made of shiny black laminated fabric pushes my breasts up to my tonsils, and high heels have me walking like a T-rex. I have no alternative. It’s the only thing Sid left me and, if I don’t want to smell, I’m forced to wear this stuff. I swear, when I find him, I’m gonna choke him.

*

The club is located in one of Midtown’s many skyscrapers. If I walk all the way around inside, which I doubt I can because of my high heels, I’d have a 360-degree view of Manhattan, and it’s nothing short of gorgeous. The huge bar in the middle serves from all four sides and the otherwise open space contains sofas enclosed in small nooks. The lights are so low that someone could have sex on one of the couches and no one would notice. I almost bump into three Hollywood stars and not because this place is crowded. Apparently, this is the kind of popularity the Jailbirds attract. I don’t know if I can ever get used to that.

I see them navigating with enviable ease when I squeal for a good fifteen seconds watching one of my favorite actors approach Damian and take him away. Within a few minutes, I’m left alone like a goldfish in a bowl, watching the world outside the glass, but not understanding much. Even my bandmates seem comfortable in this luxurious environment with a colorful cocktail in their hands and a couple of girls hanging around them. How the hell do they do that? We’ve been here exactly three minutes.

“Do you need a guide?” asks a deep voice behind me, which makes me spin around, staggering so much that the guy has to grab me by the elbow so I don’t end up lying on the marble floor.

It takes me a while to recover as I find myself immersed in blue eyes and a pair of full lips arching in a mischievous smile. His light brown hair is styled to perfection and, to complete his “Armani casual” look, he’s wearing a suit by the aforementioned designer, white shirt slightly unbuttoned at the collar and no tie. Just looking at this guy makes my mouth water, and it takes me a few seconds too long to realize I have to talk to him and not act like the damn goldfish.

“If you’ve got a map, I’ll try to get my bearings.”

He laughs in a quiet way that reflects his elegant, composed air. At least he’s nice enough not to point out how dumb my joke is. “If you want, I can guide you through this maze. I’m familiar with these parties. My name is Archie, in case you don’t talk to strangers.” He holds out his hand and I shake it, intoxicated by his persuasive speech. I think I feel a little drool escaping down the corner of my mouth, but I don’t have the courage or the will to control it.

“Lilly. Nice to meet you...and yes, I need someone to explain how to get to the bar without getting swallowed by quicksand,” I giggle.

Quicksand? I’m really talking about quicksand? Jesus Christ, he’s just a guy, handsome as a Greek god, but still a guy. I gotta calm down and try not to fall in these heels.

He snickers and offers me his arm to get to the bar. A bar we never get close to because Damian’s strong hands rest on my shoulders and spin me around.

“There you are. I leave you alone for two minutes, and you have jackals circling around you,” he says, incinerating Archie with his eyes.

I feel the man bristling next to me and he moves away, almost imperceptibly leaving a space between him and me that feels like the Grand Canyon. How the hell does this man have this kind of power over people?

“Damian, man, I didn’t know she was with you. I wouldn’t have offered to show her around otherwise.” His tone is so fake, it almost creeps me out.

“Sure, right,” says my supposed savior, taking my hand and entwining our fingers. “We’re all over the media, and you know exactly who she is and who she came with.” His voice is a low and deep whisper that makes my insides vibrate.

I have no idea how a caveman claimed a woman back in the day, but this Alpha male vibe Damian is giving off is making me want to say, “Yes, I’m yours, do what you want with me.” I almost bite my tongue not to say it out loud.

Archie raises his hands in surrender and walks away at the speed of light.

I cross my arms over my chest and glare at Damian until he finally lays his eyes on me. “Do you also want to pee on me to mark your territory, or are you satisfied?”

Damian struggles to stay serious, and a corner of his mouth rises slightly in a smile. As much I hate it when men act possessive, I have to admit he’s sexy as hell. “That guy would have fucked you in the bathroom before you’d even finished your cocktail.”

I tilt my head to the side and raise an eyebrow. “Who says I don’t want to get fucked in a bathroom before I even get to the bar?” I would never sleep with Archie, but I like catching Damian off guard.

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