Page 53 of The Rogues

“Oh.” She pauses. “Are you working on something?”

I sigh. “Just a new song, but it’s not fleshed out yet.”

“Cool. Let me know if you need any help or melody inspiration.”

That makes me smile. “I will. I’ll meet you down there in five.”

“I’ve already got us a table.”

We hang up and I move my stuff aside since we won’t be leaving the hotel for a few days. Our concert here in Salt Lake won’t be until tomorrow, but we arrived early and were granted a day to goof off. Not that any of us are doing that. I was under the assumption that we’d all be catching up on rest while we have the chance.

I pull on an old Ed Hardy zip-up and black yoga pants, determined to be comfortable and hidden as I exit the room and make my way downstairs. The elevator goes at a snail pace, and I feel like it stops on every floor. When it stops again at the fourth level, I give a tiny groan, but then a young girl—probably seventeen or eighteen years old—walks in wearing a Vicious Velvet T-shirt. I recognize the design from our last tour and smile.

I wrestle with what to do. On one hand, I could make her day, but on the other, there is no guarantee that she is going to keep this to herself, and then we’ll have to deal with a swarm of fans crowding the hotel. Considering we’ll be here until at least tomorrow night, I’m not sure if it’s a good trade-off.

Turns out, I don’t even have to decide, because the second the businessman from six gets off at two, the girl moves to lean more comfortably against the wall and sees my face. I see the second recognition kicks in, her eyes bulging as they take me in. She looks both surprised and panicked as her mouth parts to speak, but no words come out. I give a little weak wave.

“Hi.”

The girl shrieks, her hand going to her chest. “Oh my god, it is you.”

“Yes,” I confirm, because there’s no point in denying it. “I like your shirt.”

She looks down at it and blinks like she forgot she was wearing it before her gaze meets mine once more. “I saw you guys in Colorado last year. I-I have tickets for your show tomorrow.”

I give her a sincere grin. “That’s awesome. What song are you most excited to hear?”

Her brows raise comedically high. “I—Wow, I’m not sure. Maybe ‘Wandering Widow?’”

“That’s one of my favorites. Nicola worked with our producer for months to get the perfect bass that really tied it all together.”

The elevator gets to the bottom floor and dings, indicating our stop, but the girl looks like she wants to hear more. I start to move out, slowing my pace so I can turn to her when we’re in the lobby.

“Can I…” She coughs, nervous. “Can I take a selfie with you?”

“Of course.” I pull my hood down and fix my hair. She already has her phone out, her arm stretched wide to get as much of us as she can in the photo. We both smile, and she admires the photo, screeching as quietly as she can as she grins with excitement.

“Thank you so much,” she tells me, her eyes sparkling like this is the best thing that could have ever happened to her.

“Thank you for the support,” I respond. “I only ask, can you wait until Monday to post that photo? It could get out of hand if people know where they can find me.”

The girl’s face sobers and she gives an earnest nod. “Of course. Thank you for taking one with me at all. I will respect your wishes.”

I hesitate, but then reach out my arms. “Some people are weird about hugs, but do you… want one?”

Even when I didn’t think it was possible, her smile grows even wider, and she flies into my arms so fast, accepting the gesture and holding tight for a few moments.

When we pull back, I point over my shoulder. “I gotta get going, but I hope you enjoy the concert.”

“Of course! I will, thank you, even with the ratty boys’ set,” she says, but her face is full of tease rather than real malice.

I shrug. “I think some of their stuff is actually pretty cool.”

I move through the hotel bar to get to the restaurant, but luckily it’s not very crowded as I swivel through the bodies. Just as I’m about to break free of the evening guests trying to secure their cocktails, I run right into someone’s back and let out a hmph before pausing to apologize.

“Hi, Petal.” I hear the voice and freeze, my eyes finding hazel ones that pour into my soul. Jamie’s hair is once again tied back, the blond streaks as pretty as always. The bar lighting highlights the soft freckles dancing along his nose, and his shirt cuts off right above his belly button. My eyes trail over his lean stomach and to the tattoo peeking out on the side of his hip. It’s a simple rose done in black ink, but something about it sends my instincts haywire. A shiver runs through me before I settle my gaze back on his face.

He’s lounging with his elbow on the bar, his hand holding a flute with clear liquid that makes me squint my eyes.