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“One fifty,” he said, and as Slade and Jagger whipped their heads around, their jaws dropped, so surprised that they couldn’t get out a word as Dylan said, “Going once, twice, sold to Killian for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
If I’d thought Jagger had given a good shit-eating grin, it was nothing on the victorious smile Killian gave his fellow band members. It didn’t last long, though, because Slade and Jagger both lunged in his direction, and Killian hightailed it off the stage before they could get their hands on him.
Part of me wondered if I needed to go back there and make sure they didn’t kill each other, but one of my staff came over the headset and assured me she was backstage getting them ready to go back on.
Something told me she wasn’t telling me the truth, because I’d seen the way they desperately wanted that prize, but this was a moment I was more than happy to delegate to others.
Ace was wrapping things up, and I was sure Dylan was grateful that he hadn’t had to strip down to his skivvies after all. Damn shame for the rest of us, but c’est la vie.
“Thank you for being so generous tonight. You all still having a good time?” When the audience cheered their approval, Ace gave them a megawatt smile. “It’s only going to get better, because hitting the stage again now—if they’re not beating each other senseless after that bidding war—is Fallen Angel, with special guest Trent Knox!”
Eighteen
Dylan
“I’VE BEEN WAITING for this part of the show all night,” I whispered as Ace and I moved behind the curtain to the left of the stage.
“I know. We’re lucky it’s even happening after that little power mishap.”
“Little?” I slipped my arm through the crook of Ace’s elbow and cuddled into his side. “We almost blew out L.A.’s entire power grid.”
Ace chuckled. “Paige really outdid herself.”
“Right? I still can’t believe there wasn’t a mass exodus.”
“Agreed. Thank God for Trent. That could’ve been ugly.”
“Speaking of Trent…” I gestured to where he was walking onto the dark stage to take up his place next to his old band’s new frontman, Halo. It had to be weird, coming back to the group as an outsider, especially after all of the rumors that had swirled around his departure. But, selfishly, I couldn’t wait to see him up there with Halo. The two of them together were going to be unreal.
Blue and white snowflake spotlights began to twinkle around the crowded arena as Jagger began the familiar keyboard intro to one of my all-time favorite Christmas songs, “Last Christmas.” Then Trent stepped up to the mic and began to croon into it as real snowflakes began to flutter from the ceiling.
The smile on my face was so wide that I was positive it might slide right off it. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause and started to sing along with Trent. The classic rendition had always been my favorite, and I couldn’t have been happier they’d decided to honor it.
Halo stepped forward to sing the first verse, reminiscing over being once bitten and twice shy, and holy wow, talk about a reception. It was clear the audience was as excited about seeing them both on that stage as I was.
Back and forth they switched off, their voices unbelievably in sync. They played off one another in the best ways imaginable, and when Halo made his way over to Viper to tell him that this year he was going to give his heart to someone special—and then added a kiss just so everyone knew who that special someone was—the crowd went wild.
“They’re really incredible,” Ace said by my ear, and I turned to look up at him and nodded.
“They really are. I can’t believe how great they sound together. Hey, maybe they’ll get Trent to go on tour with them sometime?”
Ace smirked and looked back to the stage. “I wouldn’t hold your breath, Daydream. Just because Halo and Trent are getting along doesn’t mean the rest of Fallen Angel is ready to welcome him back with open arms. Check out Viper.”
I zeroed in on the devilishly good-looking guitarist, who was watching Trent with narrowed eyes. Yeah, okay, there was no love lost there, but it was nice to imagine—if you didn’t include the bloodshed that might follow.
When the song came to a close, the applause that echoed around the arena was almost deafening. Halo waved at them all as both he and Trent gave each other a mock bow—to which, I noted, Viper rolled his eyes.
Both men then turned back to their mics as a cozy fireplace appeared on each of the big screens flanking the stage. As the crackling of the wood sounded throughout the hushed arena, the scent of chestnut and pine seemed to fill the air, and I stood there in awe.
