Page 42 of OctoBEARfest

"Well, whatever. I didn't know."

"That's amazing and wonderful," Gwen told him honestly. "Also sorry I'm a weirdo who used to be famous and didn't tell you."

He shrugged. "It's fine. I looked you up. The really weird part was you having blonde hair. And for the record, I also didn't think I'd be Josie."

A laugh broke over the band before Sandy leaned forward in Bill's chair, making it creak. "So, yeah, Gwen, we knew. And we all respected, respect, that you didn't wanna play on being Emma Hart to break big. But…look, we've talked about this. Especially since we started recording the new album, which we all know is shit-hot. Penny is incredible at the whole social media thing and she can keep us in rotation, especially if you continue with the not doing it at all, but if we get any bigger than we are tonight, yeah, you're gonna be the lead singer, the front man for the band. And Gwen, I mean, there was a reason you were a famous kid. You've gotit." She wet her lips and glanced at the others. Gemma nodded once, encouraging her to keep talking for the rest of them. Sandy's gaze came back to Gwen. "I guess what I'm trying to say is we know the attention is going to turn to you. We've always known that would happen if things went well. We're okay with that."

"It's just the idea of it and the reality of it are really different," Gwen said swiftly. "It's one thing to know it'll happen. It's another to watch and feel all the questions getting directed at me, the promo shots featuring me, the frickin' tabloids talking about me, the media wantingmeon their talk shows. It's…it makes a gulf." She closed her eyes and tilted her head backagain. "I remember when it happened withStarting School. I remember thedayit became obvious I was the breakout star. All six of us were there, being interviewed together, ensemble cast, you know, the whole thing. And something happened, the way the interviewers kept redirecting questions to me even when one of the others was talking. The way the camera focused on me. The way they cropped everybody else out for the promo piece. And the next day after the story was out, they were all mad at me. Nobody wanted to talk to me anymore. I don't want to go through that again."

She opened her eyes to find the rest of the band glancing at each other again, and this time Gemma, who was abrupt and practical at almost all times, spoke. "We're not fourteen, Gwen." She cracked a thin smile. "I can't promise we'll be envy-free twenty-four-seven, but we're not kids. We get what we're signing up for. This isn't a pit fight."

At everyone else's startled laughter, she looked around defiantly. "Oh, come on, I can't be the only one who sees those mega-popular tween shows that way, can I? It's totally Highlander. There can be only one. They throw all these kids into a show together and see who the audiences respond to best, and the rest of them are trashed. Sometimes a bunch of them make it through, but let's be real, Gwen probably had the healthiest self-destruction of any of that crew she ended up in."

Color rushed up Gwen's face, although she couldn't really argue. Shehadself-destructed, but more or less on purpose. Two of her castmates from back then had ended up with serious drug problems, although one had made it through and still worked in film and television with regular but not breakout success. A third had simply not grown up into as cute an adult as he'd been a teen, and had retired. Gwen thought he sold real estate now. The last two had a series of high-profile disastrous relationships, including one with each other, and were stilloccasionally featured in 'where are they now' sob stories. Gwen hadn't fallen apart like that, and, she realized now, had some guilt aboutthat, too. "You're not wrong," she said a bit faintly.

Gemma looked slightly abashed, as if she realized that might have been a little too blunt. She still said, "I know I'm not. I get where you're coming from, G. But we're not kids. It's not gonna be the same." She pulled in a deep breath, held it, then released it, saying, "Assuming you want to do this. I don't want to kid you, if you walk away I'm guessing me and Myles are probably gonna cut loose, but that's not meant as a threat. It's just we're as close to stardom as we're gonna get and it'd be stupid to not take this moment and parlay it for ourselves if you want to stay at this level."

"I don't think I do." Gwen almost surprised herself with the admission, and she could hear the quick intake of breath from her bandmates. "We've worked really hard to get where we are. I know I could have made it easier, but you've stuck with me while I took the hard road. I had stardom handed to me when I was young," she said flatly. "I was a kid and got lucky. This time I feel like maybe I've earned it. And Iknowyou guys have. So, yeah, um." She gave her friends an uncertain smile. "Yeah, I mean, I think we need to talk about the label idea, but if you guys want to shoot for the stars, I'm in. And if that means a little bit of leaning into who I used to be, I can live with that, too."

"I don't think you have lean in," Penny said with a little smile of her own. "Because you're right, they're going to be all up in your face about it, but if you stick to that line—you had stardom handed to you and walked away and now you think, hope, you've earned it, Gwen Booker is the life you've chosen—then you can't stop them from waxing lyrical about Emma Hart, but you don't have to lean into it, either. And we can use Myles's story to really highlight that. Like, he basically didn't know who you used to be until we started recording the new album. Because you're good,Gwen. Becausewe'regood. So the Sixty Pix are a band who look forward, not back."

Gwen burst into spontaneous applause that the others picked up on, laughter filling the little office. "You're really good at that," Gwen said as the clapping ended. "If you ever decide to stop being a rock star, you could probably have a nice job in marketing."

"Oh my God. No thanks. Come on, let's go be rock stars instead. Our fans are calling our names."

That was actually true. Gwen climbed off the floor, grinning, and pulled her bandmates into a hug, mumbling, "Thank you. Thank you all," before they headed out to the stage.

The roar of excitement that met them was too big for the size of the space. Gwen honestly thought the roof might lift off for a moment, and wondered if they should have moved the whole gig outdoors. It was too late now, and Gwen had a sudden moment of wanting to stay in the moment, clinging to it, because it might be the last time they got to play to such an intimate audience. She found Bill in the crowd—not hard, because he'd taken a stance over to one side, where his height didn't block anybody but he could see easily, and sang a couple of songs right to him. His smile lifted her in ways she hadn't known was possible, and when the show was over and he came back to scoop her into a congratulatory hug, she whispered, "You're gonna escort me out and steal me away from all of this, right?"

His laugh was almost inaudible, but she felt it rumbling through her body. "Yeah. But I'm going to bring you back, too, because this is what you're meant to do. I'm just lucky enough to be here to see it."

She beamed up at him. It was ridiculous to think howrightthat felt when she'd only known the man a couple of days, but it felt right anyway, filling her heart with joy. "Perfect. That sounds perfect." A pang shot through her as she realized she was leavingthe next day, although Gwen reminded herself she'd be back next weekend: they already had a date planned. One less chaotic than this weekend had been. At least in theory.

It took forever to get through the waiting crowds, but every minute was worth it. Gwen was still flying with exuberance when they finally broke free, which turned out to mean 'went back to the pub so they could escape out the back door.' Bill's truck was waiting, and he went to the gentlemanly effort of opening the door for her. "Your place or mine?"

"Oh, yours!" Gwen said, startled. "I forgot you lived here. Yeah, yours. That way the hotel won't have any noise complaints."

Bill, beneath his breath but loud enough to hear, said, "Oh my God," and Gwen laughed.

"I can probably be quiet if you want me t?—"

"Nope! No, no thank you, that won't be necessary. But forgive me for being glad I only live a few blocks away." They were more or less at his house by the time the conversation ended, in fact, and he said, "Stay there," in a tone that sounded more helpful than commanding. A moment later he was at her door again, lifting her down from the truck, although nowhere nearallthe way down. He wrapped her legs around his waist, her skirt rucking up around her hips, and leaned her up against the side of the truck, lowering his mouth to hers and kissing her thoroughly before mumbling, "I currently regret my decision to live in town. If I'd gotten that place out in the woods we would already be having sex."

"It's very late," Gwen said hopefully. "I can be very quiet. No one will know."

"Mmm, no, I definitely want someone to know. You. Me. But not the neighbors." He moved away from the truck, still effortlessly holding her, and closed its door before carrying her up to the house. Gwen twisted, trying to get a look as he openedthe door—unlocked it, holding her just as effortlessly with one hand under her ass instead of two—and stepped inside.

It was, of course, dark, and he didn't bother turning a light on. That was fine: Gwen was plenty turned on for anybody or anything. She did grin and murmur, "Nice place," against his mouth, and Bill laughed.

"Thanks. I tidied up just for you."

"And I wore a skirt just for you."

Bill groaned. "I noticed. You didn't warn me about the thigh-high boots. You were the sexiest woman I've ever seen up there on stage. Do you have to take the boots off?"

"Do you want me to?"

He shuddered, grabbing her ass more firmly and pulsing his hips against hers. "I really fucking don't. Bedroom?"

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