Page 11 of Final Serenade

Oh, and no questions about touring since it was still unclear whether Frankie was able to pull off a ninety-minute set.

“And please”—Linda raised both hands in the air and gave everyone in the tent a tense look—“refrain from staring at Mr. Blade’s face for prolonged periods of time. It will make him uncomfortable and we don’t want that. Understood?”

All heads nodded in unison.

“Great.” She flashed us a smile and glanced at her phone. “We’ll have a house photographer. You’ll be provided images for your editorials. We ask you not to use any other unauthorized images.”

We waited a bit longer before security finally escorted us inside to one of the upstairs lounges.

Levi was wired. I could tell from the dark shadows beneath his eyes. He paced around and talked to people to pass the time while I sat in a velvet papasan style chair and stared at my phone.

I had programmed Jax’s number into my contacts the morning after he’d decorated my shoulder blade, but my gut was being silent and my brain was too busy to help me decide if I should call him. It’d been too long since a man had actually showed an interest in talking to me on a level that wasn’t professional or friendship, and I had no idea how to start this.

“Cassy,” someone said to my right. “How’s life treating you?”

I lifted my gaze from my phone and swiveled toward the sound. Robbie’s doughnut body descended into the chair next to mine. He was wearing a dark blue blazer and his thinning hair looked like it’d been smothered with an entire bottle of gel.

“Life’s been treating me well, Robbie.” I made it a rule to call people I worked around by their names to ensure they remembered me. Although Robbie and I went way back. I’d done some volunteer work forPulse Nationafter my Jay Brodie internship. Sadly, they’d told me the magazine didn’t have a budget to hire another staff writer when I brought up money.

“Surprised to see you here,” he said, straightening his blazer.

“Why? From what I know, three outlets were approved for an interview with Frankie and the rest can sit down with Dante.” I got that info from Linda.

He shrugged. “Did you hear what Smith said?” His voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. “Frankie might not be doing any press today after all.”

I wasn’t sure whether Robbie was simply pulling my leg or his info was legit, but I didn’t like the sound of it. Levi wouldn’t either. Especially since he’d brought his backup gear too. “Really?”

Robbie nodded and ran his large palm over his gel-covered head. “I mean…the man’s been in hiding for seven years. Could be nervous.”

I suppressed my laugh. People like Frankie Blade didn’t get nervous. Getting together with the rest of the band to record and tour after everything he’d been through took guts.

A short, round man in his mid-thirties rushed into the lounge, the crackling of the radio attached to his belt following him as he marched over to our group.

“Do we have”—he glanced at the clipboard—“Rewired?”

“Here!” Levi called, grabbing the gear.

“You’re up. Follow me.”

I rose from the chair and gave Robbie a shit-eating grin.

“My name is Smith,” the man with the radio introduced himself as we walked down the hall. He turned around and scanned the passes hanging around our necks. “We’ll need you to sign a confidentiality agreement first.”

Somehow, this didn’t surprise me at all.

“Do you know if the interview will be on camera or audio?” Levi asked as we got ushered into a small room at the end of the hallway.

“Corey will get you up to speed,” Smith explained, motioning at the man waiting for us inside. He was older, dressed sharply, with streaks of silver in his hair and a deep frown in his forehead, all signs of permanent stress.

The secrecy around the interview format was overwhelming.

“Cassy and Levi withRewired, correct?” Corey shook our hands and led us to the table in the middle of the room. “I’m Frankie’s manager.” He was reserved and very official, and his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yes. That’s us.” I nodded, setting my bag on the floor next to my chair. My dress pants rode up my thighs and my left bra strap was falling down my shoulder. My clothes suddenly felt like they didn’t fit. Was I nervous? I knew all the questions. I knew the band’s history and the lyrical content of all their albums like the back of my hand. This was something else, something I couldn’t put my finger on.

Corey went over the major points of the confidentiality agreement and left the room.

“This is ridiculous,” Levi muttered as he scribbled his name next to the neon pink pointer sticker. “Are we filming or what?”

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