Izzy’s gaze lands on me, questioning if I’m comfortable with her answering him. It’s not like the lineup is a secret, there’s really no sense in hiding it. And if he really is a spy for Dickless, then it would seem like I have things I’m hiding when I really don’t.
With the shrug and nod I give her, Izzy answers him, “The start times seem to be off.”
“So I was thinking about that too. It’s actually why I was coming to find you.” Huh. Maybe that’s why he smiled so big when he saw me.
My thoughts quickly cut off from admiring how stunning he is and focus on the question. A sardonic laugh spills from me. “They decided to have my opener play after me,” I state plainly.
“What?” Izzy shakes her head in disbelief, trying to comprehend what I said. “That doesn’t make sense. You’re the headliner.”
“I stopped trying to make sense of their decisions years ago. The best I can make of it, they’re doing everything they can to boost Carmen into stardom. Probably as a bid to replace me.”
Darius’ smile drops from his face. The dramatic change is startling, almost making me want to take a step back. It’s replaced with anger, a reaction that seems so out of place for someone who only met me a short time ago. He didn’t even show this much emotion when Nash was picking a fight with him.
“That’s not right. You’re not the springboard for someone else’s career.” The instant way he jumps to my defense would draw me to him if I didn’t know he was placed with my band by the man who’s orchestrating the entire thing. “We can switch it back, right? Now that you’re here?”
His question directed at Izzy draws her out of her head where she’s still trying to puzzle out the intentions of the insane. I don’t blame her, I used to do the same thing when Dickless first turned on me. Now it’s simply a fact of life, one I’m hoping she’ll help me change.
A determined fierceness lights her eyes. “Absolutely. I can’t believe that supposed manager the label gave you ever allowed this. But then again, they only have their best interests in mind.”
She turns on her heel and strides down the hall like a woman on a mission. She’s so focused on what she’s doing, she doesn’t even say goodbye.
Darius takes a step closer until he’s able to rest his hand on my lower back. “Can I be straight with you?”
His familiarity throws me off, and I stand frozen in place. “Umm… Yeah, I guess.” I’m not sure why, but I suddenly feel jittery, like I wish I had something to make me calm and collected.
“Your image is crap. Rumors follow you around like flies to shit, and you’ve done nothing to change it.” His words hit me like a bullet to the heart, I wasn’t expecting them, which makes it all the more painful. I can’t argue with him, it’s not like they aren’t true.
When I only blink at a loss for anything to say, he continues on, “It might get past your fans because they don’t know how the industry works behind closed doors, but it’s clear to me that your label is behind it. I can’t work out the reasoning, but you’re just laying down and taking it. I don’t understand why. You could slay anyone who crosses you.”
His words seem to strengthen something inside me, but before I can come up with a reply, the door behind me opens. Keaton immediately eyes where Darius’ hand rests on my lower back and narrows his gaze, pinning our new lead guitarist in place. The longer he stares, the more tension builds in the air until Darius takes a step back.
“If you want my advice, you should start fighting back. As it stands, it seems like you have everything to gain and not much to lose.” He takes a another step back and gives me that heart-stopping smile. “You’re motherfucking Raina Lexington. A pop star icon. Start acting like it.”
He walks away, and a pang pinches in my heart. Why would he give me that advice? Is it a tactic from Dickless? Baiting me to walk into a trap?
It simply doesn’t make sense. Not even a little.
“He’s not wrong,” Keaton says with a grunt. I glance over my shoulder and read how much he hates to admit it written all over his face.
“Maybe,” I admit, but the truth of it makes me question everything. “I’m not sure we can trust anything from someone who says they understand the industry, but still chose to work for someone like Dickless.”
Keaton grunts in agreement. His hand lands on my lower back, his fingers flexing into my flesh like he wants to overwrite the other man’s touch with his own. I get the impression he doesn’t want to trust him either, but I’m not sure his reasons are the same as mine.
Nerves rush through my body like they’re racing in the Indy 500. Although NASCAR has nothing on these speeds. I stand from the couch and pace the room, running a hand through my hair. It would probably be better if I left the room to get more space, but I don’t want to make my stage fright worse by having a pre-audience audience.
Thoughts spiral through my mind. It’s like I can hear the conversation between the angel giving me a pep talk and the devil on my shoulder feeding into the anxiety. I wish I could turn it off, but I’m forced to endure the torture.
You shouldn’t be nervous like this. You’ve already done two shows, and they went off without a hitch.
You call that without a hitch? Tristan disappeared after the first show.
Yeah, but the actual performance was fine.
Only because I didn’t have time to freak out beforehand. I was too distracted.
You sure this new guy is good enough? What if he makes everyone look bad?
He was perfect in sound check. Why would he suddenly fuck up?
