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Kendall
Laney Albright has the kind of rhythm and New Yawk swagger that makes it impossible to keep still when she sings. My hips are wiggling, my shoulders are swaying, and right behind me, standing so close our bodies keep grazing, is Vaughn. At every point of contact, sparks of awareness flare. Then recede. Flare. Recede. It’s maddening in the best possible way.
It’s a good thing he can’t see my face because it’s no doubt glowing pink with adoration.
Tonight is crazy. The past week has been crazy. My ordinary life has changed in ways I never imagined. The hope I held deep down for things to change may have included a guy, but not one like the tall slice of heaven now putting his hands on my hips.
Instantly, my head, my heart, my tummy are all fluttery. These feelings swoop in regularly, so I should be used to them. But I’m not.
We move to the music, the beat a mix of electronic and hip-hop. I’ve been acutely tuned in to Vaughn since the second he knocked on my door and took my hand to lead me to his car. My air space is entirely filled with him whether we’re driving, sneaking into an album release party or getting our groove on. There may be a couple hundred other people here with us, but I don’t see any of them.
I glance to my right. Except for him. Justin Timberlake is five feet away. He’s new to America Rocks this season, taking over as a judge. He shook my hand, which means I may never wash it again, and couldn’t have been nicer when we were introduced. Being in the roped-off VIP section definitely has its perks. Thankfully, Justin has soaked up 90 percent of the attention. While girls have definitely noticed Vaughn, they haven’t approached. A couple of people wearing press lanyards are on the other side of the venue, a safe distance away.
Muted spotlights circling the stage give the event space on Hollywood Blvd. an intimate feel. The friends and fans here for this special night are singing along with Laney as she belts out her most recent hit. Also across the room is a seemingly endless upscale bar, the glass from liquor bottles and tumblers fracturing the stage lights into twinkles of blue, green, and gold. Outside, massive video screens overlooking the street and sidewalk play a constant loop of Laney’s appearances and songs. In the lobby is a lounge with couches and portable shelves filled with shoeboxes from tonight’s sponsor, Adidas. Laney is known for the custom rainbow-striped sneakers she wears—no matter the outfit—and so tonight everyone in attendance is getting a pair.
The music continues to thump loud enough that I can see people’s lips moving, but I’m not sure if any sound is actually coming out. Not until Laney holds the mic out for the audience to fill in the refrain.
When the song ends, the crowd goes wild. Laney gives a shout-out of thanks then brings her hand to her face like she’s covering her eyes from the sun. “Vaughn Shaughnessy? You out there?” she asks, her vowels drawn out long as the Brooklyn Bridge.
“That’s my cue,” he whispers in my ear, having prepared me ahead of time—but only this morning. I almost changed my mind about coming, knowing he was going to take the stage. Since Vaughn is featured in Laney’s music video she thought it would be cool for him to be the one to emcee a quick Q and A. Vaughn agreed—mostly to appease his dad after Vaughn told him he wasn’t going to do the velvet rope photo op. I didn’t like being the reason Vaughn stayed under the radar, but he assured me it wasn’t a big deal.
Not for the first time, I wonder if I might get in the way of his career.
I’m the reason Mason didn’t get to follow his dreams, and it would kill me to be the reason Vaughn missed an opportunity.
Vaughn makes his way to Laney, the girls in the audience squealing like crazy and high-fiving him as he passes. He hops up onstage and strikes up an easy conversation with the pop star that has everyone laughing and sighing. Vaughn is a natural, so at ease in front of an audience. He will absolutely win the hearts of America if he becomes the next host of America Rocks. He may even outshine the contestants. I wonder if he sings?
I look over at Justin again. He’s wearing a baseball cap to keep a low-ish profile. Tonight is about Laney, and it’s sweet that he’s here for her. Vaughn told me Justin is one of the producers on her debut album.
“The album drops Tuesday. Any special plans?” Vaughn asks into a microphone.
“Just chilling with friends.”
“What time should I be over?” Vaughn teases.
“I want to come!” someone in the crowd shouts.
Laney smiles before Vaughn quickly says, “We’ll all be with you in spirit.”
Gah. The America Rocks brass are crazy if they don’t hire Vaughn.
“Thanks, everyone,” Laney says.
“You guys ready for one last song?” Vaughn asks the room. A resounding “yes” is the answer. Laney recaptures the audience’s attention as Vaughn returns to me with a megawatt grin on his gorgeous face. “How’d I do?”
“Fantastic.” I lift up on tiptoes to kiss him.
He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. “What do you say we make our escape now while all eyes are on the stage?”
“I like that idea.” I silently pray no one catches us.
Fingers laced together, we stop in the empty lounge to grab a pair of the complimentary shoes. An Adidas rep asks our sizes, bags our swag, and we’re about to be on our way when a tall, good-looking man wearing jeans, a tight black T-shirt, and a five o’clock shadow approaches. “Vaughn Shaughnessy, are you sneaking out without saying hello?” Whoever this person is, he has a very nice British accent.
Vaughn releases me to shake hands with the man. “Nigel. It’s good to see you again.”
“You, too. I had a call with John earlier today to get caught up on a few things. Your name came up more than once.”
“That’s…good?”
