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“Which friend?” Killian asked.
“You don’t know him.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“A guy in my building.” And that was all I was giving him because I didn’t want Trevor to get into trouble.
His eyes narrowed and lips pursed, appearing annoyed. I had no idea what it was like to be famous, but I guessed it was irritating when random people did stuff like this, and it probably happened often enough with all their fans.
But I wasn’t a fan. I was a girl he barely knew from high school, and here I was sneaking into the band’s charity concert in order to ask a favor. God, that sounded stupid and crazy. But desperation made you do things you wouldn’t normally do, and I was desperate.
“You have a guy in your building making fake IDs for concerts?”
Trevor did a hell of a lot more than fake IDs for concerts, but I decided it better to remain mute on the subject.
“So who are you exactly?” This was from Crisis who was now leaning up against the wall, ankles crossed and intently watching me and Killian.
“A chick from high school,” Sculpt said.
“How come we don’t know her?” Ream asked.
“Because she left town,” Killian replied.
“So you had a phony ID made in order to get backstage to see this asshole?” Crisis said. “Might have been easier to e-mail or even send a Facebook message.”
“Why would she do that? Even you don’t look at that stuff. Jolie does,” Ream said.
“I scroll through them,” Crisis argued.
“When?” Ream was the complete opposite of Crisis in that he had dark hair and an intensity about him while Crisis was playful.
Crisis shrugged. “We’ve been busy with this concert and working on the album.”
“I sent an e-mail.” Two weeks ago to the general inquires e-mail. I hadn’t been specific, only that I was an acquaintance of Kite’s from high school and wanted to speak with him. It was a long shot and as I expected, I’d never heard back.
“We should give them a minute,” Sculpt, who I found out, from Trevor’s research on the band, was really Logan, suggested. “Good to see you again, Savvy.” He offered a subtle smile and a nod then headed back in the direction they’d come.
Ream nodded to me too then followed, but Crisis remained leaning against the wall grinning. Until Killian glared at him. “Fine. But I want details.” He looked at me and winked. “Savvy, come back to my place for the party. It’s casual and no need for a fake ID. We’ll let you in.”
I smiled. “Thanks.” But I wasn’t here to go to a party. I was here to get a recommendation for a job. One I wanted and needed.
“Come on,” Killian said, and before I knew what he was doing, he slid his hand in mine and led me down the corridor to a door and tugged me inside. The door shut behind me with a solid thunk, at least it sounded like a thunk, but was probably more like a click. Regardless, my heart leaped at the sound.
And now, I was alone in a room with the guy who kissed me eleven years ago. My first kiss. A kiss I’d compared with every single kiss since.
The light flicked on, and we were in a large office with a mahogany desk, a leather chair, and a silver filing cabinet, but that was about it.
He smirked. “So Ms. Smith, what do I owe the pleasure of this covert operation?”
Killian with a sense of humor was unexpected, and it was hot. I’d only ever known him as an angry teenager with an attitude that had been really scary. He was still scary, but it had lessened somewhat, maybe because I was no longer fifteen. “You’re different.”
His brow rose. “Mmm, it has been eleven years. A lot has happened.”
I laughed then cringed when I heard the obvious nervousness to it. “Yeah, you’re a famous rock star.” Who had a tongue piercing, tattoos and a hot body.
“Does that have something to do with why you’re here?”
“No. But I’m happy for you and the band. You guys are really good and deserve the success.”
“Thanks.” He leaned up against the door, blocking any escape route. “To say I’m shocked to see you is an understatement, Savvy. And that you went to the trouble to illegally gain entry is even more of a surprise coming from you, and I don’t get surprised often.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No.” Not trouble in that I had drug dealers after me or the police. “I wanted to ask a favor.”
“A favor?” I nodded. “Seems to be a lot of trouble for a favor. What do you need?”
“A recommendation.”
His brows rose. “I haven’t seen you in eleven years. I hardly think I’m the person for a recommendation. What’s it for?”
“A job. I applied, but I was wondering if you could put in a good word for me. I know it’s a lot to ask since you haven’t seen me in… well, a long time.”
