Page 52 of Ticket to the Stars: Part One

Those big, blue eyes of hers really were pretty. Such a crisp, clean blue hue, warm and welcoming. It took everything in me to not lean closer to her. “I’m sorry this is so hard for you,” she whispered. “But I understand.” She let out a tiny chuckle, which caused me to furrow my brow. “I think I understand now why you’re always in a bad mood. I guess I never really got how much it all bothered you. I’ve told you before, but I’ll say it again: I don’t want to take your brother’s place.”

In reality, she wasn’t the one taking my brother’s place; Priest was, and then she was taking his place. But that was too convoluted.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just said, “Thanks.” It was about the only word I could get out, maybe because of those damned blue eyes and how close they were to me. She was eight or so inches shorter than me, the perfect height to…

To what? Let’s just say it was a good thing my mind trailed off after that, because whatever thought I may have had after that wouldn’t have been a good one. And by good, I meant appropriate.

She smiled up at me, and something in my gut hardened. I could feel my heart start to beat a little faster, and I struggled with the initial reaction while trying to remain stone-faced.

“Good,” she said. “Now let’s go back out there and do what we have to do.” Angel still wore a smile, even as she slipped her hand into mine. Her hand was small but soft, and I had to swallow the moment she pulled me toward the door. She was totally unbothered holding my hand.

I wished I could say the same, but I couldn’t. Her hand in mine… it was a lot nicer than I’d ever admit out loud.

Angel obviously had a thing for Priest, plus Bishop liked her. I couldn’t go liking her, too. Things were already complicated enough, we didn’t need to all be involved in a love triangle. Or would it be a square, since there were four of us?

No. Not a triangle or a square. More like an arrow… with every line connected to Angel.

Chapter Twenty-Three – Angel

Time was a weird thing. It flew by when you were in a routine, but when that routine was new, it also crawled by. It was both quick and slow at the same time. It felt like an eternity but also done in the blink of an eye. That’s how it felt the next month.

A whole month passed after listening to the demo. We’d decided on what sound we wanted to go for, and in the end, we voted for an arrangement. No two songs would be the same; I’d be backup on one while I’d have my own verse on another. Some songs Priest and I would sing at the same time, different notes.

We chose what songs we’d like to include on the next album—the ones we were redoing with Priest’s and my vocals. We practiced those songs. The guys wrote some lyrics. It was a whirlwind and a snail’s race.

And Priest never once tried to kiss me again—a good thing, since I wasn’t sure I’d be able to resist him after knowing what it was like. I mean, I didn’t have anything to compare Priest to, but I wanted to say that man was a great kisser. Like, too good.

I did notice Priest tended to avoid being alone with me, and I wondered if it was because he regretted kissing me that night or if he didn’t trust himself not to kiss me again. I wanted it to be the second, but logic told me it was probably the former. Why would a guy who could have any girl choose to want me?

I had to get my roots bleached and toned, and it was after my hair appointment that Ramona picked me up.

She was on the phone when I got into her car, but she told whoever she was talking to on the car’s Bluetooth that she had to go. She ended the call and glanced at me, her black eyes taking in my freshly-done roots. “You look great. I got you something. It’s in the back. It’s for next week, actually.”

“What’s next week?”

Ramona did a double-take. “The guys didn’t tell you? Those assholes.” She muttered that part under her breath. “I told them to let you know about your first show together. There was a cancelation at the Aegis Theater downtown. I got you guys in for a surprise show. Tickets go on sale tomorrow. It’ll be your first show, Angel, where we announce you to the world.”

As I listened to her, I couldn’t believe it. I literally couldn’t believe it. Of course, I knew this was what we were heading towards, but man… so soon? Granted, it’d been nearly two months since my life changed completely, but two months didn’t seem like nearly enough time for me to be stage ready.

What if I was never ready?

The nerves must’ve shown on my face, because Ramona said, “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be fine. You’ve been rehearsing with the guys a lot, so it won’t be too different. You’ll just be on stage, in front of a crowd.” She acted like it was no biggie.

But it was, in fact, a biggie.

My heart raced in my chest. I picked at my nails on my lap, biting the inside of my cheek. I didn’t say a word, mostly because if I said something, it might not be coherent, and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of Ramona.

And I didn’t want to do it in front of a crowd, either.

What if I messed up the lyrics? What if my voice was flat? What if I got sick between now and then and lost my voice? What if—

“The guys have played there before. They’ll be able to help you out. You guys won’t be able to get in there to practice beforehand, unfortunately, but that’s all right. I have faith in you guys.”

Instead of talking about that, I decided to ask, “What did you get me?”

“The outfit you’re going to wear on stage,” Ramona replied. “I won’t be able to come up to your room with you, but I need you to try it on immediately. If something doesn’t fit quite right, we need to jump on it and get it fixed before the show. I also bought you the body paint the guys use. I emailed you a few ideas, but ultimately, I want the design to be yours. The guys chose theirs years ago. There’s a blank mask in there you can do whatever you want with.”

We’ve been so focused on honing our sound and practicing the songs we’d redo that I hadn’t even given thought to what kind of design I’d do. Shit. Suddenly I felt like I was running out of time.

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