Page 62 of Final Serenade

“Band stuff.”

I waited. No explanation followed. I didn’t press.

“Hey.” He switched to a whisper. “Do you have any plans for next weekend?”

“I have to check my calendar. I might have a couple of places to go to.”

“Can you move some stuff around? Saturday and Sunday?”

“It depends. What do you have in mind?”

“How about we go to Aspen? Have you ever been?”

“Colorado? No.”

“That’s the one. Unless you know of some other Aspen?”

“Well”—I pulled up Google—“there are also locations in Sweden, Kenya, and Germany, according to the internet.”

“That trip would probably require at least a week of vacation time. Maybe after the tour if you really have your heart set on one of those.”

“Why a week?”

“I’m pretty sure getting to Kenya will require at least a couple of changeovers.”

“Don’t you own a plane? Blade Airlines. Direct flight.”

“Contrary to popular belief, no. I don’t own a plane or an airline. I can rent one, though.”

“Rent? What kind of a rock star are you? I’m dumping your ass for Bruce Dickinson.”

He laughed hard. Then I heard someone calling his name over the chords. It was an intro riff of “Awake.”

“I have to go. Hey, I’m serious about Aspen—it’ll be another first. I’ll call you soon.”

“Have fun at the meeting.”

When he hung up, I needed a minute to absorb the fact that we were developing a relationship. It didn’t feel like an affair to me. It felt like something else.

Because he was making plans. For us.

Chapter Ten

The entire next week was chaotic. Ashton studied for SATs and Levi and I started working on Isabella’s project. We met up with her and Maria on Wednesday night to discuss a plan of action.

One good thing amongst all this madness was that Mom got a raise at work.

Rewirednumbers grew steadily. The interview, though transcribed, still drew in a lot of viewers. At this point, only five other publications had run exclusives with Frankie Blade.Rolling Stonewas one of them.

Hall Affinity dominated the internet because of three surprise shows and a tour announcement, along with a thirty-second teaser of an upcoming November single. The public went crazy when the news broke. The tickets were sold out in under a minute.

Frank called me almost every night at random hours. Sometimes he was alone and we could squeeze in a session of naughty talk. Other times, there were people around, so those conversations were short and a little more tame.

We left L.A. Friday evening.

Roman picked me up from my apartment around nine. I was meeting Frank at the airport. Arriving there separately was just a precaution, but with the paparazzi sniffing around Malibu, we wanted to cover all the bases. The anonymity gave me freedom to lead a normal life and I wanted to keep it that way. At least while Levi and I were working on Isabella’s documentary. The shitstorm in the press that always followed people like Frankie when their affairs became public oftentimes got out of hand. Overly enthusiastic fans, jealous exes, hate mail, Twitter campaigns. Justice Cross and his second wife could probably write a book about it.

No, thank you. I wanted my name to stay off TMZ’s radar.

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