Page 50 of Ticket to the Stars: Part Two

More like twenty minutes, maybe, but after a while, my ears heard something. I sat up the same moment I realized what the sound was: someone coming in from the hall. I whipped my head around, my feet slower to catch the memo, but once I was up and off the couch, I started to walk toward the door—to, like, bum-rush whoever it was.

Tackle them. Take them down. Do whatever I could to get out into that hallway.

I didn’t make it far, though, because as soon as I saw who it was, I knew there was no way I could take him down. My feet skidded to a stop. I stood next to the island, still a good thirty feet away from the door as he stepped inside and let the door close behind him.

“It’s you,” I whispered, glaring at him hard. Let’s just say my suspicions were correct.

Pope stood near the door, his eyebrows coming together as he saw me, a hard look on his face. He wore the same leather jacket I’d seen him in both times before, along with black pants that hugged his long legs tightly. Not a look many guys could pull off, but Pope had that swagger.

I thought he’d have something smart and, you know, evil to say, since he’d drugged and kidnapped me, but what he ended up saying caught me so off-guard, all I could do was glare at him in response: “What the hell are you doing here?”

We stared at each other, neither one of us saying another word for at least a minute or two. I stepped closer to him, wanting to keep as much distance between us as possible—couldn’t forget how tall and big he was. He could easily overpower me—but at the same time, something about his expression wasn’t adding up.

It was almost like he was surprised to see me here, and that didn’t make sense.

“What amIdoing here?” I repeated. “Why areyouhere? Come to see how crazy I am after you drugged me and brought me here?”

“After I… what the fuck are you talking about?” Pope’s face twisted into a sneer. A slightly confused sneer, but a sneer nonetheless. “I didn’t drug you, and I definitely didn’t kidnap you.” He didn’t sound like a liar, as much as I hated to admit it.

“If you didn’t do it…” I trailed off, studying his face. “Why are you here? How’d you get in?”

Pope held up a room key. “I was sent this, along with a note. Trust me, the last thing I thought I’d see was you.” He strode forward, close enough to me that he could toss down the room key onto the counter with a huff.

“Who was it from?”

I could tell Pope didn’t want to answer. He ground his jaw and looked away before muttering, “Ramona.”

Wait.Ramona? His answer hit me like a physical blow, and I took a step back, desperately trying to think back to last night and the talk Ramona had with me. How she’d wanted it to be private. Had she drugged my water while I wasn’t looking?

But why in the world would she do that?

“I thought she wanted me back in the band or something, but it turns out this is just one stupid prank,” Pope muttered with a scowl. “Whatever. I’m out of here.” He left the key card on the island, turning and heading back toward the door.

I watched, not saying a word, as he tried—and failed—to leave.

“What the fuck is this?” Pope demanded, whirling around to glare at me. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do this. Why the heck would I invite you here under the guise of meeting with you and trap us both in here?” I asked.

Pope prickled, but even he had to concede, “Good point.”

“And, anyway I was supposed to perform at Greenbay Stadium last night—and tonight, and tomorrow night—and I missed our first show.”

“Boo fucking hoo. Nobody cares.” He gave me his back and tried to jiggle the handle again.

That’s what he was wrong. “I care,” I whispered. I cared a lot, a lot more than I ever thought I would. Bishop, Priest, and Deacon; I loved those guys. I loved them and I loved Black Sacrament. It might not be the same as it used to be, but that’s all right, because things didn’t have to stay the same to be great. Change could be good.

Pope wouldn’t let go of the darn doorknob. He kept at it, futile.

I told him, “You know you don’t need Black Sacrament.”

That got him to stop and turn to face me. Again, about thirty feet were between us, but it was like he was right in front of me, staring daggers into my very soul. “You don’t know anything about me,Angel,” he hissed out my fake name. “Black Sacrament is me, and I am it. It wouldn’t exist without me.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I acknowledged, “but things change. People move on. Don’t you think it would be better for you if you did the same?”

He took an aggressive step toward me. “I don’t want to move on. I’m nothing without Black Sacrament. That band is fucking mine! Not yours,mine. I don’t care what you say or how you have the others eating out of the palm of yourhand. Your days in the spotlight are numbered. I’ll make sure of that.”

Again, so threatening.

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