Page 120 of One Last Verse

Totally useless inside my mouth, my tongue finally moved. “Hello, Frank.”

A slew of voices drifted at me from across the room. Isabella’s was the loudest. Then suddenly, we were encompassed by a group of raging teenagers. Andy wore a Texas-sized grin. Ashton’s goofy smile peeked out from behind Kit’s dark mop of hair. Slightly intimidated by Frank’s presence and the madhouse on the opposite side of the glass, Story stood back. Their conspiring gazes didn’t escape me.

This felt a lot like treason. Hands were shaken. Embraces were exchanged. Janet was hovering.

“What’s going on?” I cast a threatening glance at everyone. My heart bounced against my ribcage like a tennis ball.

“I’m sorry. I planned on telling you earlier, but things got crazy.” Isabella looked at me innocently through her lashes, then gave me a subtle shrug. “He wasn’t supposed to arrive until after six.” She half-laughed, half-grimaced at Frank.

Something passed between them. Understanding? Familiarity? I didn’t quite catch it, but it was there. In the air. Invisible yet tangible.

“I didn’t want to be late.” He winked at her and returned his attention to me. “Traffic.”

His features remained lax, but his eyes gave away the turbulence of his thoughts.

“Traffic, huh?” I shot him a dubious look and pulled out my phone. “How come he’s not on my list?” My question wasn’t addressed at anyone in particular. First, I didn’t understand why Frank was here. Second, I didn’t understand why no one had informed me about his arrival. Third, I didn’t understand why others knew and I didn’t.

But then we were interrupted.

“The doors are about to open!” Linda hurried us away from the entrance. “Let’s get you somewhere quiet.” She patted Frank’s shoulder and smiled at me.

I needed answers, but there was no time for explanations. The lobby came alive as Roman steered us into the hallway, away from the general admission ticket holders. Frank and I marched shoulder to shoulder, our bodies almost touching. I felt his heat. I caught his scent. I heard his breath. It was the strangest thing, to be able to separate him from everyone and everything else in this ruckus.

We meshed with another group of people. More handshaking, more smiling, moreI’ll catch you laters. Everyone wanted a piece of Frankie Blade. No one cared he’d wreaked drunk havoc at Dante’s party three months ago. He was wanted, adored, and forgiven. Just not by me. I still hurt from all the ugly words he’d said at that party.

I heard Maria and noted Ashton steering Isabella into one of the dressing rooms. A roll of thunder came from the lobby. Soft at first, the footfalls grew stronger and louder, overtaking the crackling walkie-talkies and the background music.

In a blink, Frank was swept away by security and I was escorted to one of the lounges, where Levi was entertaining some of the sponsors and potential donors.

Over-caffeinated and confused, I breezed through the crowd on autopilot, willing myself to concentrate on the present and not the past, but all my mind could think about was Frank. The thought of seeing him again churned my stomach.

Gut up, girlfriend, my inner voice said.You’re the shit. You’re the shit! Screw this rich asshole trying to ruin your night.

Shaking off my unease, I smiled as the people in front of me shook hands. Contrary to Frank’s belief, the world didn’t revolve around him and I wasn’t going to let him steal all the limelight.

“Don’t you own an iron?” I mouthed at Levi as we crossed paths while bouncing between the guests.

“I was in a hurry.” He gritted his teeth and moved on to the next person.

A beat later, we met at the bar. “There’s probably a steamer somewhere upstairs,” I said, shaking my head. “You can’t do Q&A looking like the guy who lives under the bridge on Ninth and 110.”

He lifted his left foot to show off his prized Doc Martens. “Make it Beverly and 101.” Amusement came into his eyes.

“Okay, so you want to be a hipster bum.” I snorted out a quiet laugh. Never a dull moment with my partner in crime.

Levi waggled his thick brows and nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Says a Jewish dude from Santa Monica.”

“That’s how I roll, baby.” He spread his arms and clicked his tongue.

“Let’s go fix this horror show.” I pointed at his chest. “I know you’re going for a Kurt Cobain feel, but my OCD can’t take this.”

All the staff had migrated downstairs and no one except for two guards were on the deck when we went up. My phone squawked as I entered the office.

“I can’t find parking!” my mother shouted on the line.

“Where are you?”

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