“But you are Ross Rockit,” Devyn says gently. “And like Tommy said, you haven’t done anything wrong. There’s no reason to lie.”
“Everyone is going to assume I’m coming out of retirement, and that’s not the case,” Ross says firmly. He looks troubled, and I hate that the light in his eyes from a few minutes ago has faded.
“You came out of retirement tonight, and maybe for a few more nights, to help out your friends until Kingston’s voice is back.”
“We’ve got this, bro,” Z says firmly. “We won’t let them put words in your mouth or push too far. I’m known to get up and walk out of an interview, so journalists know if they go too far, I’m out. Trust me, you’ve got this. Just talk about friendship, King having laryngitis, and being in the right place at the right time.”
Ross slowly nods. “Alright. Whatever you guys think.”
Z turns to Pete. “Let them in.”
I move out of the way and stand off to the side with Harley, Jesse, and Presley.
“How cool was that?” Harley whispers excitedly in my ear.
If anyone comes close to loving Ross & the Rock-its as much as I do, it’s my sister.
“What was that hand holding all about?” Jesse demands from my other side.
“There was also kissing,” Presley says.
Harley arches her eyebrows expectantly.
My cheeks suddenly feel a little flushed but I can’t deny it since everyone saw those things happen in real time.
“It’s very, very new,” I say softly. “Like, hours new.”
Conversation is impossible at that point because the journalists in the room are firing questions at the band faster than they can answer them. I watch as a pretty reporter, who looks to be in her mid-twenties, moves close to Ross, putting a well-manicured hand on his arm. I can’t hear what she says, but there’s no mistaking her body language.
“Breathe,” Harley whispers in my ear, wrapping an arm around my waist. “They get five minutes of attention; we get to go home with them.”
I know she’s right, but this isn’t my world. I’ve skirted the perimeter of this lifestyle as Harley’s sister, but it was never this personal. Harley was the one married to a rock star, and I was just a bystander who occasionally got to hang out with the band.
This is totally different.
Ross asked me out just before he took the stage, which could potentially change everything.
There’s simply no way in hell I could say no.
I’m not a giddy, star-struck teenager anymore, but Ross isn’t really a rock star anymore either.
This is just a few nights, sitting in for Kingston until he’s better. In a couple of weeks or so, Ross will go back to the anonymity of being Onyx Knight’s tour manager. And I go back to… what?
A job I hate.
An empty house.
My very mundane life.
Harley’s elbow digging into my rib snaps me back to the present and I realize a reporter has just asked Ross the million-dollar question.
“…about Ross & the Rock-its?”
It’s the same reporter that’s been hanging on him since she arrived.
Ross smiles even though I can tell it’s forced. “Ross & the Rock-its died nearly nineteen years ago,” he says quietly. “On a highway in Louisiana, just outside Baton Rouge. Tonight was nothing more than a favor to the band.”
“But aren’t you Onyx Knight’s manager?” Someone else asks.
