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13
Seeing the lightsof the Hollywood Bowl lifted Gemma’s spirits a fraction. The outdoor amphitheater wedged into the hills like a giant clamshell sent waves of sound pulsing through the night. She knew by the tone of the voice ringing into the dark when they arrived that Nick’s band was not yet onstage. There must have been two openers. That at least meant they had not missed the start of Nigel’s set, but it increased the chances of running into Nick backstage.
“Ooh, this is so exciting!” Lila squealed from beside her as they approached the back entrance.
Gemma felt the beat of the song vibrating her rib cage the closer they got, and it felt like a drug. She might have worked in a quiet studio where they mostly talked, and she considered herself a connoisseur of recorded music because it ran in her blood, but nothing rivaled a live show. Nothing.
She knew once they got inside, select people would recognize her, ones knowledgeable of her father, but as they passedthrough the initial security, she and Lila were simply another pair of lucky guests flashing their lanyard passes. At the first gate, a burly man in all black wearing an earpiece aimed his flashlight at their passes and let them in with a nod.
Lila squealed again and deployed her mini tripod.
“I don’t know if they’re going to let you stream in here,” Gemma warned.
Lila tossed her hair with a tsk. “Let them ask me to stop, then.” She greeted her followers for what had to have been at least the fifth time that day, and Gemma wondered how many were still tuned in after the scene at the airport.
Her heart dipped at the thought. She shook it away and vowed to enjoy the opportunity at hand.
The song onstage finished off with a frantic rush of drums and guitars. The crowd cheered. Gemma felt it all rising from the ground, pushing in from the air itself, like the energy entered every cell of her body. A small smile spread across her face.
They made it to the next set of doors, where their passes were scrutinized with more care. Another burly man granted them passage. When they crossed inside, the sound waves that had been thundering and sharp outside dulled to a muffled but still strong pulse. The walls vibrated. Gemma could feel it tingling her scalp.
Immediately inside the door, a woman with an earpiece and a tablet looked at their passes and pointed down a long hall. Lila squeezed Gemma’s arm in excitement. The music got louder the closer they got to the stage. Crew and staff hurried up and down the hall talking into earpieces and carrying all manner of items: amp cords, guitars, waterbottles. Gemma saw a bag of Taco Bell go by. The chaos of live entertainment was intoxicating.
They rounded a corner into a new hallway right in time to see a folding chair come flying out of an open doorway. It smashed into the opposite wall, gouging out a chunk of drywall, and clattered on the concrete floor.
Gemma gasped and held out a hand on reflex to stop Lila. Raised voices poured from the doorway; something was obviously not going well inside. They glanced at each other, unsure if continuing forward was safe, when a man draped in lanyards and wearing a headset stepped backward through the door with his hands raised. Another man followed him with his finger angrily pointed at the first man’s chest.
“This isbullshit!” the man with the angry finger said, and Gemma recognized the voice.
Her blood went cold at the same time her heart pitched up into her mouth.
“Listen, I don’t make the rules. I just follow them so that I don’t lose my job,” the man with his hands up said.
They were fully in the hallway now, the man with his hands raised looking both apologetic and agitated. And the other man, a man Gemma knew very well, was beet red with anger. His disheveled hair fell in shiny blond waves to his broad shoulders. He wore a tight black tee shirt and had a sleeve tattoo that Gemma was endlessly thankful did not contain any ink dedicated to her. He had the chiseled cheekbones and jawline of someone created for the spotlight. He looked taller, somehow, but maybe that was because Gemma was stunned to see him. Or perhaps because he was furious and puffing himself up to intimidate the other man.
“Who did this, then?” Nick, the ex she never wanted to see again, demanded, and poked the man in the chest.
The first man stood his ground despite the poke looking like it had hurt. “Someone with a lot more sway than I have,” he said through gritted teeth.
Nick dropped his hand and shook his head with an annoyed groan. “What does that mean? Tell me where this came from!”
The commotion was causing a scene. Other doors had popped open, and a few people leaned out to see what was happening. Another man Gemma recognized came marching up the hall from the other direction with his phone pressed to his ear.
“Billy!” Nick shouted at him. “What the hell is going on? They’re trying to cut us at the last second!”
Gemma stiffened and felt Lila do the same beside her. No one had even noticed them standing in the hall with all the drama.
Billy Jackson, the band’s manager, a man who worshipped Gemma’s father and had played a pivotal role in the destruction of her relationship by getting Nick everything he wanted, joined the standoff. Gemma loathed him, which she realized wasn’t entirely fair since he was only doing his job. But still, she’d cast him and his slicked-back hair, gold watches, and devilish good looks as a secondary villain in the story. He held up a hand to Nick and kept his phone pressed to his ear with the other.
“Nick, I just heard. I’m trying to—” He cut off to listen to whoever was on the phone. He looked up at the ceiling like he was thinking. He nodded. “Shit. Okay, yeah. Yeah, we got it,” he said into the phone. He ended the call with apress of his thumb and shook his head. “I’m sorry, man. It’s not happening.”
“What?!”Nick bellowed.
His bandmates had slowly seeped out of the doorway to join. Gemma tilted her head down when she saw the familiar faces, trying to hide. She held the drummer and bass player in the same esteem as Billy the manager, but the rhythm guitar player, Jimmy, was a great guy with a lovely wife who’d been unfortunately swallowed up in the pool of unpleasantness. Still, running into any of them at all had definitelynotbeen in her plans for this evening.
“What the fuck, Billy,” Nick demanded. “Who is making this call? We’re supposed to go on in ten minutes. They can’t—”
“They can, Nick,” Billy said, holding up a hand to calm him. “Trust me, we gotta let this one go.”
