Page 60 of Ticket to the Stars: Part One

Maybe it was the high of the show, or maybe it was just my body’s reaction, but I kissed him back before I realized what I was doing.

It felt like it lasted forever and was over too soon. Priest kissed me long and hard enough to make my insides twist and turn into molten lava, and then he pulled his mouth off mine, took my hand in his, and called out to the audience: “Thank you and goodnight!” He did a mock bow, and due to the fact that his hand held onto mine, I was forced to bow, too.

Priest was the first to walk off the stage, taking me with him. My lips burned with the realization of what just happened, and as we walked by Bishop, I noticed the shock on his face. I didn’t get a chance to look at Deacon.

We went backstage, and then out into the hall, and not once did Priest loosen his grip on my hand. My thoughts raced, every part of me now jittery. Ramona was in that audience, watching. She wouldn’t be happy with what Priest did.

My sister would find any videos of the performance online and watch them. What if she found one of Priest kissing me? I’d never hear the end of it.

Oh, man. This was going to be bad.

Priest brought me to his dressing room, and he only let go of my hand once we were safely tucked away. Almost immediately he began to pace the length of the room. We were joined soon enough by Bishop and Deacon—the latter of which shut the door behind him to give us privacy. Let’s just say neither of them looked particularly happy after what Priest did.

“What the hell, Priest?” Bishop asked, sending a frown his way. Beside him, Deacon’s painted mouth wore an intense scowl, all you could see thanks to the mask—nothing too out of the ordinary, but with that mask, the facial expression was even more demonic.

And yet they were still hot. It really wasn’t fair.

Priest stopped pacing. His gray eyes were a stark contrast to the black mask covering his face, and they zeroed in on Bishop. “I should be asking you the same question,” he shot back. “I saw you kiss her right before the show.”

That got Deacon to whip his head toward Bishop and ask, “You did what? What the fuck, Bishop?”

“This isn’t about me, this is about Priest and what he did in front of alive audience,” Bishop replied. “You had no right to kiss her in front of all those people, Priest.”

“And you had the right to kiss her when you two were in her dressing room, alone? Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Priest wasn’t going to apologize; that much was obvious. “You thought you could, what, keep it a secret? Please.”

Bishop took a step toward Priest with an aggressive stance. “You’re just jealous I kissed her.”

Priest laughed. “Jealous? I kissed her weeks ago, bro. Those lips of hers were mine first—”

Deacon stepped in the middle of them, about to diffuse the situation, but then he must’ve realized what was said, because his hard glare was on me. “You kissed Priest weeks ago?” When he said it, it dawned on Bishop, and Bishop glanced at me, as if waiting to see me refute the accusation.

Crap. This was getting way too messy.

I figured it was my turn to talk now, since all three guys were staring at me. Bishop and Deacon looked slightly hurt, while Priest only looked smug, the jerk. “Yes, Priest kissed me a while back. I didn’t want to say anything because—”

Because I liked it so much? Because it made me want to kiss all of them? Because then I’d have to admit that I was starting to have real, genuine feelings for the members of Black Sacrament?

I settled with saying, “Because I don’t owe you guys anything, okay? You guys are falling apart, and it feels like I’m supposed to be the glue that holds you together.”

“Glue?” Priest huffed. “You’re not the glue.” I looked at Deacon, and all Deacon did was shake his head. It was enough of a reaction, though, for Priest’s attention turned to him as he asked, “What is she talking about, Deacon?”

Seconds passed, though they felt like minutes. Eventually Deacon muttered, “I want out. I want out of the band. I’ll do what I’m obligated to do, but after that, I’m done. You can replace me just like you replaced Pope. It shouldn’t be too hard. Drummers are a dime a dozen, right?”

“Deacon,” Bishop said, his ire and jealousy over Priest’s kissing of me weeks ago forgotten. Those emotions had been replaced by concern, his eyebrows drawn slightly together, his mouth thinning as he stared at Deacon. “We couldn’t do this without you.”

“Used to think the same thing about Pope, but here we are,” Deacon huffed with a frown. He probably wanted to skulk away, but Bishop was in his way. This dressing room wasn’t really big enough for all four of us, now that I was thinking about it. We all stood less than two feet apart.

Way too close, if you asked me.

The air was so thick with tension, I could tell none of the guys knew what to say. Well, at least Bishop didn’t. Priest, on the other hand, gestured to me and suggested, “Why don’t you try kissing Angel? Maybe it’ll make you feel better. I know it made me feel better after seeing her and Bishop going at it like rabbits—”

“Fuck you,” Bishop spoke with a frown. “We were not going at it like rabbits—”

“And you can’t just offer me up to anybody you want,” I said, chin upturned so I could meet Priest’s eyes. “And back to what you did on stage: you can’t just kiss me like that in front of all those people.”

Priest cocked his head at me in a deliberately slow way, and I’d bet anything he was lifting a single brow beneath his mask. “I can’t, huh? That’s funny.” He took a step toward me, towering over me with a haughty smirk on those devilish lips. “Because, from what I recall onstage, you kissed me back.”

I did, but that didn’t stop me from quickly saying, “I did not.”

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