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“Remi,” Trudy called, tapping me on the shoulder. “Come with me. I’ll introduce you to Ghost.”
She led me back through the winding backstage maze. It gave me a few moments to compose myself, which I desperately needed. It was hardly professional to be salivating over the lead singer.
Excited anticipation thrummed through my body. I was about to meet the boys of Ghost Parker, including the sexy lead singer, Ghost. We waited a few moments, and then I heard the band approaching before I saw them. The members of Ghost Parker were making a racket, obviously still pretty pumped up from their performance. I glanced over at the guys as they came into view, but my eyes immediately sought out Ghost.
I took a moment to fully absorb his appearance. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular physique. His blond hair was slightly disheveled and still damp from his shower. He wore a tight black T-shirt that showcased his toned arms and chest. His chiseled jawline and piercing blue eyes only added to his magnetic charm, which seemed to pull everyone in his vicinity into his orbit. There was no point in denying it. He was exceedingly handsome. My stomach fluttered with butterflies, and I struggled to find my voice as I stared at him.
The guys in the band paid us little attention, but Trudy stopped Ghost as he was passing by. She introduced us and I wasn’t sure what I said. As soon as Ghost turned his attention to me, I was lost. His stunning blue eyes seemed to hold a thousand secrets, and I found myself yearning to unlock every one of them.
He was gone so quickly, I had to shake myself. I was breathless from our encounter, and my fingers still tingled where he’d touched me. I could barely listen as Trudy explained to me that she had some post-concert business, but that I should feel free to grab food or drinks. People would slowly trickle in and the after-party would be in full swing by the time the band members finished with their post-concert business. She assured me that she would make sure I met all the band members then.
Trudy left me and already the room was filling up with women who were looking me over. They were assessing the competition, but then quickly dismissed me when they saw how I was dressed compared to them. They had come to attract male attention; I had come to be professional. I had dressed attractively, but I wasn’t showing tons of skin.
The atmosphere in the room grew wilder by the minute. Soon, bass-heavy music pulsed through the air, making it hard to think. Alcohol was flowing. Illicit drugs were being passed around. Of course, I’d been around this type of scene at some Hollywood parties I’d attended with Greyson, but those parties had a thin veneer of class to them — at least they pretended to — despite the outrageous behavior. Here, everything seemed ten times seedier. The atmosphere was much more raucous, as partiers flaunted their wild sides and celebrated with reckless abandon.
Bodies writhed together on the makeshift dance floor, some barely dressed, others adorned in various stages of undress. Empty bottles began to decorate every surface of the room, while people laughed and yelled over the music, their inhibitions long forgotten.
I remained as unobtrusive as I could as I stood in a corner waiting for the band to make their appearance. The first guy I saw was the drummer. He was easy to pick out because swarms of girls surrounded him the moment he showed up. I decided to introduce myself before he got too involved in the party.
“Hey,” I said hesitantly as I approached him. “I’m Remi, the reporter who’s going to be on tour with you guys.”
“Ah, Remi!” Bash exclaimed with a friendly smile. He was a tall man with dark, messy hair and a mischievous glint in his stunning green eyes. “Nice to meet you. Trudy mentioned you’d be joining us.”
I didn’t have much more of a chance to talk to him before some girls teamed up to capture his attention. I stood there awkwardly for a moment before I backed away.
As I ventured further into the chaos, my eyes locked on Ryder, the rhythm guitarist. He stood near the bar, nursing a drink while chatting with a few fans. I made my way over to him, hoping to strike up a conversation without revealing too much about the research I’d conducted on him prior to joining the tour.
“Hi, Ryder,” I greeted, forcing a smile as I extended my hand. “I’m Remi.”
“Hey, Remi,” he replied, shaking my hand with a firm grip, calloused from years of strumming guitar strings. “Welcome to the circus.”
“Thanks,” I laughed nervously, trying to keep it light as we exchanged small talk.
I scanned the room, but I didn’t see Ghost anywhere. “Congratulations on the great show tonight,” I told Ryder, forcing my attention back to him. “You guys really know how to bring the house down.”
He tipped his drink in salute. “We do our best.”
I squeezed my notebook tight, thinking about all the research it contained about Ryder. “Speaking of congratulations, congrats on the new baby. It must be tough to be on tour right now without your wife and your daughter.”
His face lit up as he talked about his daughter. “Yeah, Zoe is just amazing. I can’t believe how much having her has changed my life and my priorities. But, yeah, it’s tough leaving them behind. I really miss them both. I keep in touch as much as I can, but it’s not the same.”
“Ryder, didn’t you grow up in Ohio?” I asked casually, hoping to gather more information without exposing my intentions.
He took a sip of his drink. “Born and raised. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, just curious,” I lied, feigning a casual smile while my mind raced with the details I had uncovered during my visit to his hometown. I needed to be careful not to reveal too much too soon; playing this game required finesse and subtlety.
As the party raged on with no sign of Ghost, I excused myself from Ryder and made my way over to Sidney, the bass player. He was chatting with a gorgeous woman, who I assumed was his wife.
“Hi, Sidney,” I greeted him, offering a warm smile. “I’m Remi. I’m writing a piece on you guys for Hollywood Exposé. I heard you just got married?”
“Hey, Remi,” he replied, his arm wrapping protectively around the woman at his side. “Yeah, this is my wife, Kaylie.”
“Nice to meet you, Kaylie,” I said, shaking her hand. It occurred to me that she was Bash’s little sister, but I didn’t want to mention it just yet. I would definitely want to interview her, though. She might be able to give me good insight into both men, her husband and her brother.
“Likewise,” she replied sweetly.
As we continued our conversation, Knox, the lead guitarist, joined us. His presence brought yet another dynamic to the group, and I tried to keep my composure as I studied him. I recalled that years ago, he had been engaged and his fiancée had died in a car crash. The tragedy left an indelible mark on him, one that I hoped to question him more about at a later date.
