Page 54 of Ticket to the Stars: Part Two

“We have a new album coming up,” I offered with a shrug. “Maybe you wanted to drum up more sales.” My mouth was open, and I was going to say more, but Ramona took a step toward me, and let’s just say I didn’t like the dark expression on her face.

Her voice came out deadly, “Do you think these guys would be anywhere if it weren’t for me? Do you think they’d have half the fans they do if it wasn’t for me? You might be the face of the band, but I’m the heart beating behind it. I have the connections. I know what the media wants. You four—” She gestured to all of us. “—are nothing but your voices and the people you pretend to be when you’re on stage. Guess what? All of that will disappear someday, andall you’ll have left is, if you’re lucky, a legacy. Everything I do is to build that legacy.”

Ramona flipped to glare at Deacon and Bishop. “You’re fools if you think you know better than I do. Did I do all this just to put Black Sacrament in the mouths of more people before your next album drops?”

A second went by, then another. At least ten seconds passed before Ramona answered her own question: “Yeah, and so what if I did? At least I’m doing something more than parading around, being in a fake relationship. Black Sacrament will make headlines for this. Now, during the trial, the sentencing—it will go on and on. You four should thank me for everything I do for you. In fact, I don’t think you’ve ever thanked me once.”

Maybe that was true. Maybe no one had ever thanked her—but she was getting paid. She thought she was the heart of this band, but she wasn’t. The lifeblood of Black Sacrament was the passion that ran through their veins—our veins, now—and if she thought she’d get away with this… she was sorely mistaken.

“Ramona,” Priest started, and he picked up his phone before walking around the couch and coming to stand by me. She was surrounded by the four of us, but she didn’t look cowed. Not yet, anyway. “Two things you should know. First, this relationship isn’t fake,” he set his free hand on my lower back. “And, secondly.” He held up his phone, showing that his screen was on and he was currently making a call to Deacon’s phone.

Alarm crossed her face as her eyes widened. “What—”

Priest brought the phone to his mouth, dramatically saying, “Did you guys get that?”

The sounds of two officers stepping out of Bishop’s bedroom and coming down the hall filled the air, heavy footsteps as they emerged and showed themselves. One of them carried Deacon’s phone, which he lowered as he huffed, “Yeah, we heard it alright.”

Ramona couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “You… this was a sting? Are you fucking kidding me?” She whirled around on me. “You’d choose Pope over me?” She sounded as if this ending came so out of the blue for her, she hadn’t prepared herself for it.

“I choose the truth,” I told her, “and right now, I’m looking at a woman who thought she’d use her connections to get away with kidnapping.”

Deacon got his phone back, and the second officer pulled out his handcuffs. The guys stepped aside and let him through, and he started by telling Ramona she was under arrest for charges of kidnapping, and then he listed off her Miranda rights.

She wasn’t listening to him, though. No, instead she glared squarely at me, a look of pure hatred in her eyes. “Who knew a girl from a small town would give me so much trouble?” She practically bared her teeth at me. “Hope you four have fun while you can, because mark my words, it’s going to end eventually, and when it does—”

She didn’t have the time to say anything else, because the officer started to drag her away from us, through the kitchen area, to the door that let out into the Redborne hallway. She huffed and struggled as she went, but in the end, she had no choice but to go.

The other officer told us we’d be needed at the station to give our official statements, but we could come whenever we wanted, the sooner the better. I think he understood we needed some time to unwind after this whole ordeal.

Once the door was shut and we were alone, I collapsed back on the couch and shut my eyes. I heard Priest say, “Well, that’s it, then. Pope will be let go, and we’re manager-less. What the hell do we do now?” He sat down next to me.

I cracked open my eyes to watch Bishop walk around us and take the cushion on my other side as he said, “I don’t know. Call the label and tell them what happened?”

Deacon plopped down on the coffee table opposite us and huffed, “Who do we call, though? Ramona always did that stuff for us. I don’t even think I have anyone’s number from the label.”

“Shit,” Priest muttered with a sigh. He leaned back and lifted an arm, wrapping it around my shoulders. I leaned into him and shut my eyes. Whatever happened from here on out, we’d be together, at least.

“That’s my shoulder,” Bishop remarked, and I had to open my eyes and look to see that Priest’s fingers werelightly running shapes on Bishop’s shoulder instead of mine.

But Priest played it cool and said, “I know,” like he meant to be touching Bishop’s shoulder and not mine.

I smiled to myself. These guys… what was I going to do with these three? They really did complete me in a way I never thought possible. I couldn’t imagine my life without them now. What Ramona said might be true, but I knew, without a doubt, that whatever happened, we would stick together, even if we had to say goodbye to Black Sacrament someday.

But today was not that day. We took on Ramona and won, so I could confidently say we were ready to take on the world.

Chapter Twenty-Two – Deacon

It was actually Angel’s idea to meet Pope at a bar, all four of us. After the police had arrested Ramona, they’d let him go. I’d tried to call him that day, but he’d steadily ignored my calls, sending them straight to voicemail. It’d taken him five days to finally get back to me, and he begrudgingly agreed to see me.

To see us.

I was at the bar, ordering a round of drinks, when Pope walked in. The others were sitting in a wooden booth deeper in the bar, Bishop and Priest surrounding—and crowding—Angel on one side. I didn’t mind sitting across from her, because that meant I got to stare at her beautiful face more.

Pope spotted me immediately and made a beeline to me. It was a Friday night, so the bar was pretty busy. Loudmusic played on the jukebox, and a loud group was currently playing a game of pool.

As the bartender got my order ready—just a few more beers, nothing too fancy—Pope reached me and sighed. He glanced over my shoulder at the others and grumbled out, “I really didn’t think any of them would come. They made it crystal fucking clear they didn’t want to see or talk to me again.”

“Not as you were, maybe,” I muttered. We’d talked about this. Pope wasn’t the easiest person to be around sometimes. When he got angry, he got pissed, and nothing in the world could calm him down.

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