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The guard swiped a key card through a door marked ‘VIP Entrance,’ and then ushered me inside.
“Right this way, Mr. Durant,” the guard said, his words barely audible over the din of the crowd. We headed down a hall and toward a discreet door marked which was also locked. And that’s where I saw her — Trudy, Ghost Parker’s PR rep, waiting for me with an eager smile.
A woman with a platinum blonde pixie haircut with pink steaks in it waved enthusiastically, rushing over to meet me.
“Mr. Durant, it’s such an honor to meet you! I’m Trudy, the PR representative for Ghost Parker.” She gushed, shaking my hand vigorously. “I’m a huge fan of your show, and I’ve been following your career since the beginning.”
“Thank you, Trudy. And please, call me Greyson.” I smiled, hoping to calm her obvious excitement. “It’s always nice to meet someone who appreciates my work.”
She beamed, clearly thrilled by my response. Her professionalism wavered as she hesitated for a moment before blurting out, “Do you think ... would it be okay if we took a selfie together?”
“Of course,” I agreed, putting on my best celebrity smile as she fumbled with her phone, positioning it just right to capture the moment.
As the flash went off, I couldn’t help but wonder how many more times I’d have to plaster on that smile tonight.
“Thank you so much, Greyson!” Trudy exclaimed, her face flushed with excitement. “I promise I won’t take up any more of your time. Here is your backstage pass. I’ll walk you to the VIP section or you could watch from the wings. Whatever you prefer. Ghost Parker’s set will begin in about 20 minutes.”
I took the pass from Trudy. “I was supposed to meet Remi Sutton here. Would you be able to help me find her?”
She nodded eagerly. “Of course! Remi would have come with me to meet you, but she’s tied up with a photographer from Hollywood Exposé right now. I’m sure she’ll join you as soon as she can. I can take you to the perfect spot to watch the band while you wait for her.”
“Thank you.” I placed a hand on her arm and her entire body visibly shuddered. Suppressing a laugh, I removed my hand. My fame always elicited strange reactions from fans. “Lead the way.”
We walked together toward the heart of the stadium. I could feel the energy of the unseen crowd pressing in around us, stoking the fires of my anticipation. Ghost Parker’s spellbound throng was waiting, and so was I — ready to confront the feelings that had long lain dormant, ready to embrace whatever fate had in store. My thoughts raced, flickering between the need to see Remi’s warm smile and the enigmatic allure of Ghost.
“The band would love for you to join them after the show.” She slid me a hopeful glance. “They’re heading to one of Boston’s hottest nightclubs, District 10. Security has been set up, and they assured me that they were well prepared to accommodate your needs should you join us.”
Talking to Remi was my first priority, but I wouldn’t mind the chance to hang out with the band. “We’ll see, Trudy. Thanks for the invite.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
The backstage area bustled with activity. We sidestepped several crew members rushing around, dodging the ordered chaos of cables and equipment scattered everywhere. “I’ll let Remi know you’re here. If you need anything else, please let me know. Enjoy the show!” She grinned and hurried off, no doubt to post our picture on social media.
I stood in the shadows watching the crew preparing for the show, fiddling with the technical-looking equipment, and instrument techs passing by handling various guitars. No one noticed my presence; they were so busy.
I recognized Ryder’s voice first and then I heard a response to Ryder in a distinctly Scottish accent. That was Knox. The band was heading this way. Nerves had me rooted to my spot in the corner. I stood in the wings, my pulse racing, as the band gathered in a huddle — their apparent ritual before each show.
Ghost was blocked from my sight by the others, but his distinct voice carried over the din of the crowd. “Ride or die.”
They all echoed the phrase before breaking apart and heading onto the stage. The cheers were deafening as Bash stepped on to stage first, followed by Sidney clutching his bass guitar.
Just before Ghost strode onto the stage, he turned and locked eyes with me. A shiver ran down my spine at the intensity of his gaze. In that fleeting moment, a thousand unspoken words passed between us that set my blood aflame.
Then he was gone, the crowd swallowing him whole. I leaned against the wall, my knees weak, and watched as he dominated the stage. The way he moved, utterly uninhibited, stirred something primal in me. His voice was sex and sin wrapped in a single, raspy note.
I was captivated, possessed, and owned in both body and soul. No one had ever affected me the way he did. As much as I’d hoped my strange obsession had faded over time, there was no denying that it was as strong as ever.
Ghost prowled across the stage, a predator on the hunt, scanning the crowd until he turned his head, his gaze locking onto mine again. A slow, knowing sneer spread across his lips and my heart stuttered.
I was lost, willingly drowning in him, with no desire to break the surface. At that moment, I knew nothing would ever be the same. I had stepped into the inferno willingly, eager to be consumed by the flames. There was no turning back.
Ghost had me, heart, body, and soul. The only question was — what was I going to do about it?
“Greyson!” a familiar voice called out from behind me. I turned to see Remi, her eyes devouring me from head to toe before she caught herself. A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. It was so good to see her again.
The dim light in the wings cast an ethereal glow on Remi as she joined me to watch the concert. My heart quickened, and I felt a surge of desire course through me as we exchanged overly polite greetings.
“Hey,” I managed to croak out, swallowing hard.
