Page 69 of The Final Beat

“I feel like a fucking prick.”

She scoffed. “Nothing unusual there, then.” She gave me a side-eyed grin.

Thank god she seemed back to normal. At least the ice had thawed slightly.

“Has he gone?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I think so. Barney texted me to say they took him back to their hotel and watched him as he packed his bag. Then they called him a taxi.”

The crew usually stayed in a budget hotel near the venue, so I made a mental note to check that the staff knew not to let him back in. They only ever came to the band’s hotel if they were invited.

“Why was he here anyway?” The heads of departments, like Barney, I understood, but not the rest of the crew.

She shifted and tried to pull her hand free from mine, but I held on tight. Her body language was distinctly uncomfortable.

“Why was he here with the rest of the crew, Dais’?”

“Stop calling me Daisy,” she grumbled.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” I smirked because it was obviously something that made her feel uncomfortable. “So?”

“It was for Denny.”

“Denny?” The smirk disappeared from my face, because my ego had thought maybe it was a welcome back for me.

“As a goodbye and a thank you.”

Now my heart was thudding, because I didn’t know why that would make her feel uneasy about telling me. It was a perfectly reasonable and recognised thing to do for a guest musician.

“Right.” I bobbed my head. “Shame it was ruined for him.”

“I don’t think it was. He’s still in the bar with a line of drinks. Elliot and Ronnie came back down for a couple apparently.” She turned to look at me. “Didn’t you stay after I left?”

“No. I went up to my room and then fancied some fresh air.”

“Oh okay. Anyway,” she said in a sigh, “the party is still going. Although, I’m going to go and close it down soon. We’ve got an early start in the morning.”

I fished my phone from my jacket pocket and looked at the time. It was almost one in the morning. Early for me back in the day.

“Don’t go over thinking things.”

Her words surprised me. I turned to look at her and frowned. “What do you mean?”

She finally pulled her hand free and shoved it into the pocket of her coat. “Don’t go over thinking about me organising a get together for Denny.”

I hadn’t. Not until she’d said that, anyway.

“I’m not,” I said flatly, suddenly overthinking it. “There’s nothing to overthink, is there?”

“No. Nothing.”

“So why say it?”

She sighed heavily. “Because I know you. You’ll be thinking that I organised it because he and I had a thing.”

Again, I hadn’t, until that moment. I mean, I’d been jealous but deep down I didn’t think anything was going on.

“Is there? Do you?”

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