Page 49 of For Eva

Eric pursed his lips. “Yeah. He’s Danny, all right.”

“Anyway, new topic,” I said, grinding out my cigarette.

“Okay, new topic.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I got this fax today. Mandy’s assistant at the label says this person won’t stop calling for you.”

He grinned and snatched the paper from my hand. “Ooh, do I have a secret admirer?”

“Not sure. Do you know a Steve Anderson?”

Eric’s gaze fell flat as he studied the fax. He blinked slowly, covering his mouth with his hand. “I, uh—”

“Oh my God, there you are! I’ve been lookingall overfor you.”

The girl in the tiny jean skirt whom I’d seen at his table earlier that night stood at the door, narrowing her eyes at me. I could’ve sworn she was about to raise her claws and hiss, but Eric spoke first.

“Fuck.” He wadded the piece of paper into a tight ball and stuffed it in his pocket, springing up from the concrete. “I, uh…I gotta go.”

“What? Who’s Steve?”

“He’s no one. You should go find Danny.”

I scrambled to my feet and tossed my hands in the air. “Eric, what did I say?”

“Nothing, Eva. I just gotta go.” He looked around at the empty Chinese take-out cartons, ran his hand through his hair, and sighed before heading through the door with the girl.

TWENTY

Danny

July 1989

Isank into one of the plush chairs in the lounge outside the hotel restaurant and watched as Will and a few roadies polished off a bottle of something or another at the bar. The party had died down, sending people scattering out onto the street or off in pairs, heading up to rooms to have a hell of a lot more fun than I was having.

I’d searched around for Eva earlier but assumed she was tired and had called it an early night, and honestly, I was glad for the reprieve. I remembered when I thought being a rock star would be a carefree, endless party. But it turned out the fastest way to kill that vibe was to have your girlfriend on tour.

“Aaaand you’re an asshole,”I mumbled, taking a sip of my beer.

“Who’s an asshole?”

“Huh?” I turned my head as a woman in white jeans and a tight off-the-shoulder shirt appeared from behind me and brushed her hand against my arm.

She giggled, rolling a cigarette between her red-tipped fingers. “Sorry, was just gonna ask you for a light, and I heard what you said.”

“Oh. Ha. Well,I’mthe asshole, but I will offer you a light.” I held up my BIC as she flipped her long honey-colored curls behind her shoulder and bent down, her dark green eyes meeting mine.

“Mind if I sit?” she asked, exhaling smoke through her full lips and motioning to the chair beside me. “And mind if I ask why you’re an asshole?”

“No reason. And yeah, have a seat.” My voice quavered a bit as she melted into the chair and crossed her legs. I’d seen some gorgeous girls on tour, but this one was a total knockout.

“I’m Shawna,” she said, extending her hand to me.

“Danny,” I said, taking it into mine. God, it was so soft.

Her smile spread slowly across her lips, and her eyes narrowed in a way that told me she knew exactly who I was. “Nice to meet you. And congratulations on your album.”

“Thanks,” I said, running my hand around the back of my neck, which was suddenly damp with sweat. “So, uh, how do you know this crowd?” I motioned to the few people left mingling about.

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