Page 14 of Diva Pop

Chapter Four

“Jett, you can’t keep going out and partying like this every night. It’s not helping.”

Tory stared at Jett with pleading, Bambi eyes, and Jett downed another shot of Patrón.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He smacked his lips then licked up the remnants of lime and salt. “I refuse to stay home alone every night and contemplate my impending doom.”

Tory took Jett’s hand like a concerned parent. “I told you I’d come over and hang out. We can make popcorn and watch Star Wars or, ooh, our favorite, all the Jurassic Parks. Remember? Dinosaurs! Dinosaurs! Dinosaurs!” Tory pumped his fists as if he was cheering.

Jesus. “Hmm...tempting.” Jett held up his shot glass. “But I think I’ll stick with tequila for now.”

Tory’s shoulders slumped as he fell against the blue cushy, Victorian brothel-style chair that was part of the garish furniture in Sparkler’s VIP section. The Hollywood dance club was Jett’s drug of choice when it came to nightlife. The disco themed nights were his fave, but any night at the modern dance club equivalent of a bacchanal was a blast. He adored the over the top, flamboyant surroundings, crazed crowds of humanity and, most of all, how the management behaved as if Jett was the only customer who mattered.

However, at the rate things were going with Three Trick Pony, that wouldn’t last much longer. He needed to get in his last hurrah before his whole world imploded.

The first week of rehearsal had been a nightmare. For most of it, Jett had been perched on the sidelines, watching and seething, while everyone learned the new steps. The most aggravating part was that for the first time in forever, he’d been itching to join in. Veronica’s routine was like dance magic and not being able to perform the moves wasn’t fair. Undoubtedly, the odious Paul or asshat Crispin would be featured instead of him.

Finally, he’d been declared fit enough to participate. He’d performed the hell out of the routine, and even kept his opinions to himself when she worked the new members into their old choreography. Once they hit the road, they’d have to duplicate the dances from the videos to their hit songs.

“Hey, love!”

Tasha, an impossibly tall, black-haired stunner, and one of the world’s top models, waved at him from the other side of the ropes surrounding his section. The bouncers guarding the area stepped aside to let her through. They were well-versed in who was welcome in Jett’s small part of the universe. Anyone else who sought an audience had to be approved first. Hot guys were almost always invited, although he was careful who he hooked up with. He tried to stick with previous partners, or people in his sphere of the celebrity world.

Tasha leaned down, holding back her long, curly hair as she planted two quick kisses on either of Jett’s cheeks. Originally from Ethiopia, she had exploded on the scene in Paris almost the same time as Jett’s star had risen. She relaxed next to him on the love seat, one of the few people he allowed to occupy his throne alongside him.

“Tell me, my love. What’s new in your world? Rumors abound.”

Jett swallowed hard. He needed to switch from shots to cocktails. Slamming tequila after tequila shot to keep his hands busy, and to create believable pauses so he could compose himself, would soon result in unconsciousness. Daintily sipping on a tiny straw was a much more practical solution.

“Yes, lots of changes.” Jett attempted a not-a-big-deal laugh. “But before I launch into my dreary tale, let’s order some drinks. What are you having?”

Tasha shook her head. “I’m sticking to mineral water. I have a major fashion shoot this week and I need to look my best.”

Ouch. Jett’s thoughts drifted to whether or not he was turning into a hideous troll. How much non-stop boozing could he do before the telltale signs of burned-out-at-thirty showed? The final year of his twenties was evaporating by the second. Jett bit his lip.

How old are the new dancers Silas hired?

The tequila swam around in his stomach in a nauseating dance.

He laughed again, the sound coming out a bit too much on the edge of lunacy than he’d intended. “Good idea! I think I’ll have some too.”

After ordering their drinks and exchanging some idle chit-chat with Tory, Tasha regarded him expectantly. Tory squeezed his shoulder.

“I just spotted Lars. Either he’s on a break from the tour or it’s finished already. Want me to say hi for you?”

Jett considered it. Maybe he should start trying to be nicer to people, even if they were always shitty to him. He might need some more friends soon.

“Sure. Why not?”

Tory’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

Jett huffed. “Don’t act so shocked.”

Tory shook his head as if trying to make sense of it all. “It’s just...you always say stuff like ‘I’d rather lick the floor of a seedy movie theater’ or ‘being eaten by a killer shark sounds more appealing.”

Jett let out an aggravated sigh. “Then why the hell did you ask?”

Tory shrugged. “Habit?”

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