Page 95 of Fractured Rhythm

Cassie giggled.

“Goddammit, Jax is a pain in the ass,” I grumbled.

“Yeah. Let me duck into the bathroom and clean up and then we can go,” she said.

“Might as well rinse up in here before we head to the meet and greet,” I said, following her into the bathroom and quickly cleaning off the sweat from the stage and her.

A few minutes later, we walked out of the dressing room and straight into Jax.

“There you are. What were you two getting up to?” he asked, wagging his finger at us.

“Leave it, Ellie,” I muttered.

“That damn name. Can we kick her out of the band for that? She should respect her elders,” he said with a grimace, and it made me love Charlie even more.

“Nope. She rocks behind that kit, and the fans already love her, Ellie.”

Turnabout was fair play, and it was amazing. After years of being called Wolfie, a name that should only be reserved to my mother, I took great joy in watching Jax squirm.

“I deserve a much better nickname than that. I’m open to Rock God, Master of the Mic. Hell, I’d even accept Jax-of-all-trades.”

“No. I think I like Ellie the best,” Cassie said, her grin infectious.

“So mean, Cassiopeia. I give you a nice nickname and you side with this nonsense.”

“Oh man, Jamie would’ve loved it,” she said, and we all fell silent.

Jax tugged her out of my arms and into a hug. “Yeah. He would’ve. Now I probably shouldn’t touch you since you’re covered with Wolfie germs, but we have a meet and greet to start and you two can’t be left to your own devices.”

Then he spun on his heel and headed toward our dressing room, his arm still around Cassie. I had no choice but to follow. God, I hated meet and greets. I got that they were good for fan engagement and promotion, but there were always a handful of overzealous fans, and more than a few had creeped me out over the years.

Thirty minutes later,I’d lost sight of Cassie. I stared out across the room. We were almost done, just a few straggling fans and more than a few hardcore groupies left. I’d said no to signing breasts at least half a dozen times in the last half hour. I’d thought Charlie was going to lose it when a guy started to drop trou so she could sign low on his hip.

Not that I blamed her at all. Hell, I didn’t want to sign that close to some guy’s dick.

“Hi, Bash. You were awesome tonight. Oh my god, it’s so great to meet you,” a woman, probably only a few years younger than me, said as she handed over her ticket stub for me to sign.

“Thanks for coming out. Glad you liked the show.” It was my standard response.

“Oh my god, you are so hot on that guitar. You should always play with your shirt off like Jax,” her friend said. “Would you sign my shirt?” she asked, pointing to a spot above her right breast.

At least it wasn’t her skin. I leaned in and scribbled my signature and handed the pen back to her.

“Thank you. Yeah, you were so amazing. I just started taking guitar lessons,” she continued.

“That’s great.” I attempted to make my tone less wooden, and apparently, it worked because she beamed at me and sidled in closer.

“Can we get a picture?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said, leaning in as her friend stood on the other side of me. She roped in one of our crew members to snap the picture. I didn’t pull back when she kissed my cheek way too close to my mouth. It happened, and it was just for the picture. We were used to it.

The woman giggled and gushed her thanks, taking the phone from the crew member’s hand. “This is perfect. Hopefully, we’ll make it to another show. I’ve seen you guys perform every time you’ve played in the area. I went to the same high school as all of you. You were seniors when I was a freshman.”

I nodded along as she babbled, wanting to get the hell out of here.

“Well, it was nice to meet you. Maybe we’ll see you at another show soon,” I said, edging away with a wave. I turned to scan the room and finally spotted Cassie on the couch with Tristan and Charlie. They each had beers in their hands. What the hell. How had they escaped faster than I could?

I plopped down on the sofa next to Cassie as security ushered the rest of the fans out of the room. I sighed audibly. “I know they’re necessary, but I hate these things. I want to meet real fans. You know, kids playing guitar in their garages and people who genuinely like music—our music, anyone’s music. Not just the people who have the money to buy the perks,” I said.

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