Page 11 of A Little Broken

What the hell?

Tate dodges Herb’s attempted grasp but marches toward the curtains while Rory trails behind, casting a quick wave to Dodger before she disappears from sight. It only fuels my curiosity more. Do they…know each other?

Nah. Not possible.

Is it?

Twenty minutes later, the final notes ring through the air as Dodger belts out the last few lines of the song. They mingle with the crowd while everyone joins in, their phones lifted into the air like when we’d finished playingHappy Birthdayto Tate. The familiar buzz ebbs through my veins, and I place my pick between my teeth, giving a few of the girls in the front row my signature smirk before grabbing the pick again and flicking it into the mosh pit. A few people dive for it, but a guy in his early thirties snatches it at the last second. Lifting it into the air, he screams at the top of his lungs while I laugh from the stage, drinking it all in. The sights. The sounds. The smells. Another epic night.

Once we’re finished, we saunter toward the side of the stage when Dodger demands, “How do you know Squeaks and Tatum?”

I shake my head. “Squeaks?”

“Rory,” he clarifies. “Thekidyou dragged on stage. How’d she get in here?”

I squeeze the back of my neck, feeling guilty, though I have no clue why. “I let them in.”

“Youwhat?” he snaps. “Pax, she’s underage. Hell, she’s not even eighteen!”

“Back up, Dodge. And I don’t know them,” I add. “They were trying to sneak in the side door, and I thought it was kind of funny, so I let them in. How doyouknow them?”

“They’re family,” he grunts.

My brows raise.

“From Lockwood Heights.” He hesitates, scanning the back area. “Where are they?”

Good question.

Confused, I search the space, calling, “Danny? Herb?”

The roadie appears from the hall. “The girls were tired of watching from the side of the stage, so I set them up in one of the empty rooms and left Herb by the door to make sure no one bothers them.”

“Good.” Dodger’s head bobs. “Let’s do the encore, then we’ll talk more.”

3

PAXTON

The guys were pulled away by our agent. Not me, though. No one cares what I do, so long as I’m where I’m supposed to be when they need me. Since I’m not a founding member of the band, I get a free pass from bullshit meetings, and tonight, I have no issue taking advantage of it.

As I slip down the hall, I find Herb standing in front of an open door. One hand is clasped over his wrist in front of him. An earpiece sits in his ear as he scans the premises for what’s no doubt the thousandth time since Danny told him to keep an eye on my special…guests. Er, Dodger’s special guests? Honestly, at this point, I’m not even sure, but Iamcurious.

When Herb’s attention lands on me, I lift my chin in greeting. He steps aside, giving me access to the propped open door and the girls inside the room. Tate and Rory sit on one of the couches. The food from before the show has been cleared from the banquet table. Now, it holds different glass bottles, a bucket of ice, a bag of beef jerky, and a tray of pastries.

“At least they have good refreshments,” Birthday Girl notes. She licks some cream from her thumb and picks up a second eclair from her plate. “Happy birthday to me, am I right?”

“You missed the encore,” I announce.

Like a skittish deer, Baby snaps her mouth closed and turns to me with wide eyes. Meanwhile, Birthday Girl looks about as surprised as a doorknob.

Twisting on the green and white fabric couch, she sets her plate in her lap. “Funny. I didn’t think security guards gave encores.”

I give her a sheepish grin. “Hi, I’m Paxton, the lead guitarist for IndieCent Vows.”

“Tatum,” she returns. “Did you know your goon at the door is quite bossy?” She glances at the open door where the silhouette of our head of security stands in the doorway. Not gonna lie, the man’s a brick wall with a military background and a no bullshit attitude the guys respect. Babysitting fans isn’t usually in his repertoire, though.

Closing the last bit of distance between us, I sit on Birthday Girl’s opposite side. “Herb’s a good guy.”

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