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“Our meetings are playground taunt sessions,” Michael said easily.

“Enough,” Lila snapped. “I think you’re going to shut up and hear me out for the rest of this meeting. All of you. Let’s try to stay on task for once, all right? “

“Yeah, we’ll do that when you stop telling us about problems. Freaking fan creeping in and—”

“Malachi, it’ll be handled. We have other concerns right now than an unknown female fan.”

Instead of glancing at West this time, Juliet kicked the side of his foot. He shrugged again.

None of them knew much of anything about Mal. She wasn’t sure even Michael had a line on Mal’s recent past, and he was related to him. The elder Shawcross mostly kept to himself.

And apparently possible groupies really freaked him out.

“I’m not going to address today’s latest onstage meltdown,” Lila continued. “We’re moving past it. You know why? You’re playing at The Fillmore next Friday night.”

“The Fillmore?” Molly bolted upright from her practiced slouch. “You’re kidding. How did that happen?”

“In short, sex addiction.”

“Hell yeah,” West said under his breath. “Now we’re talking.”

Ignoring him, Lila continued. “It’s not a secret, and it’s not a joke. Luc Moreau of The Grunge is entering treatment this weekend, and he won’t be able to front his band for the next six weeks. Due to other issues within the band, they’ve made the choice not to find a replacement lead singer. That means a lot of shuffling to fill venues, and a lot of opportunities to step up to the plate.” She waited a beat. “Like a possible headlining concert with Oblivion in December.”

“No way,” Molly whispered. “Really? I’d get to headline with my sister?”

“Oh whoop-ti-fucking-do. We headline with her fuckin’ husband. Watch me cream my jeans.”

Juliet had to give Lila credit. She didn’t even acknowledge Mal. Neither did anyone else.

“First, we have to get through next Friday night. To maximize our time up north, there will also be another show at a smaller venue in San Jose on Tuesday night. The bus leaves Sunday and will return the following Saturday, along with an accompanying bus for the crew.”

As soon as Lila said that, Juliet’s attention blinked out.

Crew bus meant Sparks.

Sparks meant hell yes.

But no Tristan, dammit.

“On show nights, Ripper Records will put you up in a hotel, the rest of the time, you’re on the bus. Any questions?”

Hotel sex with Sparks had definite possibilities. Maybe Tris could drive up and join them for The Fillmore show. It was a Friday, though, one of his busiest nights at the restaurant.

Could she even have sex with Sparks without Tris there? Did she even want to?

Guess she’d be finding out soon enough.

“I have one.” Molly grinned. “Is it too soon for me to start packing?”

Chapter Seventeen

There were worse ways to wake up than sprawled beneath Juliet in her bunk on Warning Sign’s bus. Especially when all she wore was a tiny pair of panties and a half shirt that covered her breasts.

Barely.

Randy nuzzled the back of her neck and filled his hand with her soft flesh. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Hmm, normally I hate the word morning, but it sounds better when you say it.” Yawning, she rolled over on her back. “Hi.” She smiled up at him as she brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Maybe I’ll need treatment for sex addiction soon too, like that guy in The Grunge. Can you imagine?”

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