Page 56 of Ticket to the Stars: Part One

Black Sacrament played on religious undertones, twisting them. We became demons, devils, the things that haunted your dreams. It was our thing. It’d always been our thing.

Once I was done, I sat back and looked at myself in the mirror. I saw Bishop, the Bishop I’d been for years now. Learning to go by a name that wasn’t yours took a lot of adjustments, but now it was second nature. Cody had ceased to exist a long time ago.

But, no, that wasn’t completely true, either. If it was, I wouldn’t have any memories of a girl named Maggie. In the days before my parents divorced, I used to spend every waking moment I could with her. In the summers, on winter vacation, on days off school. Living so close together, it was like you had to be friends. I never thought it would change. I didn’t want it to.

What kid expected their parents to divorce? Not me. I’d known they fought a lot, but I’d thought that was normal. I’d thought nothing would change, but I’d been wrong. The move came with no notice, and I never even got to say goodbye.

Could I blame her for not remembering me? No.

Speaking of Angel… I should go check on her, make sure she didn’t need any help with the paint or anything like that. Make sure she hadn’t, you know, run away thanks to her nervousness. So, I finished up and left the dressing room.

All the rooms were small, but they each had their own door. Priest’s was directly across from mine, while Deacon’s was on my room’s left. Angel’s sat across from his, so I made a diagonal, going straight for it. The guys’ rooms were shut, which told me they were still in the process of getting ready. Maybe having a pre-show drink. Deacon, anyway. I think Priest wanted to be in a clear headspace for his first show as lead singer.

I made it to Angel’s door and gently knocked. “It’s Bishop,” I said.

“Come in,” her voice answered, and I pushed in to see her sitting before a well-lit mirror, her face completely painted. She really only needed to paint what the mask wouldn’t hide, but maybe she figured this would be easier to accomplish. A mass-covering of her face, with highlights of extra glitter on her lips and collarbone.

She wore that sexy white dress, her arms painted in white. She’d opted for white leggings beneath the dress, along with white converse so she didn’t have to wear heels or paint her legs. The black leather jacket sat nearby, along with wrist-length black gloves that matched ours.

“I wanted to see if you need any help getting ready,” I said, leaning the dressing room door closed but not latching it. Latching it would give too much privacy, and if we had too much privacy, I might be tempted to do something I shouldn’t.

Like kiss her.

Let’s just say I’d been struggling for a while now. It became harder and harder with each passing day to pretend I didn’t want to do anything like that. Maybe it was because she was so gorgeous, or maybe it was because she reminded me of a better time in my life. Maybe a bit of both.

Angel turned her head toward me, giving me a smile. “I think I got it,” she said. “How do I look?” She stood up and lifted her hands to her face, framing her chin and her cheeks to show off the body paint.

Her arms and the top curve of her tits had been painted white, along with her neck. Her face was white, including her lips. It matched her hair. I couldn’t see a trace of her skin—from the front, anyway. I’d noticed when I’d walked in she’d done all she could to her back. The majority of her body matched her hair now.

Her mask sat on her makeup table. She’d opted to do multiple black crosses on it, varying in size, only one of which would be on her actual skin. Each one was clearly inspired by one of ours. The one that started on her bottom lip, for instance, was inspired by my design. Much smaller than mine, and it ended on the base of her chin, but it was there. On the mask, she’d have two tiny crosses beneath the corners of her eyes—inspired by Priest’s. A slightly bigger cross sat on the mask’s forehead, the length of it running down its nose while the cross’s arms ran over the space where it mimicked a jawline: Deacon’s.

Four crosses of varying sizes, but all a twist on ours and much more dainty. On the white mask and body paint, they stuck out. They didn’t clash. It wasn’t too many. She looked good, and she’d look even greater once we were on that stage together.

“I think you look amazing,” I said, grinning at her. I couldn’t help it.

“I was thinking I’d just wear the jacket the whole time, but what if I get hot up there?” Angel asked, blue eyes the only bit of color on her entire body. The paint around them made their color brighter, fiercer, more piercing. Eyes like that could knock you off your feet. “So maybe you can help me with something.”

She gestured to the white paint, and I put two and two together: “You want me to paint your back?” Angel nodded hesitantly, and I practically leaped on it. She wouldn’t have to ask me twice.

We moved closer to the paint, and she swept her long hair over her shoulder, revealing her bare back to me. The dress clung to her body tightly just beneath the bottom curves of her shoulder blades. Thankfully there were some plastic gloves; I pulled those on after taking my own leather gloves off, so I wouldn’t mess up my own paint.

I tried not to focus on the fact that I was touching her as I began to apply the white body paint. My breath held, and I had to fight the way I wanted to lean closer to her and breathe her in. She had this fruity smell I’d come to love these past few weeks. Strawberries or something.

To try to get my mind out of the gutter, I asked, “Still nervous?”

Angel let out a breathy chuckle, and the sound was like honey falling on my ears. “Yeah. Do the nerves ever go away?”

“Yes and no. What you’re feeling will, but there will always be a little something, nagging away at you.”

“How do you get over it if it never goes away?”

“You have to realize that some shows are just not going to be as good as others. You do your best, and you learn not to think too much about it. You make a mistake? Laugh it off. Let it slide right off you. Don’t let it hang over your head like a raincloud.”

She hummed, her shoulders relaxing. “I’m not sure if you’re making me feel less nervous about the show or not.” She turned her head to glance at me, and when those blue eyes landed on my face, I coughed and tried to hurry.

Didn’t want to spend more time touching her than I had to, for reasons that should be obvious.

I wanted to change the subject, get her off her nerves. “When did you decide you wanted a career in singing?” Hmm. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to ask, given the fact she couldn’t remember me.

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