Page 524 of Rock Me All Night
5
The music poursonto the crowded sidewalk. It's not Sinful Serenade. It's another band, one that is all over the Los Angeles alternative rock radio station, KROQ.
There must be a hundred fans who want in the club. The show is open to the public, but from the frustrated looks, I'm guessing there are a lot of people here without tickets.
I smooth my pink, fit and flare cocktail dress, and brush my hair behind my ears. This is the nicest outfit I own. My makeup is on point. I can go up to that bouncer and tell him I'm on the list. No problem.
Deep breath.
I dig into my purse and pull out my ID, then I march to the burly bouncer. He looks me up and down, assessing my potential. It's the same way I look at people who seem out of place at the bar. Not a good sign.
"I should be on the list," I say. "Jess James. Uh, Jessica technically." I show him my ID.
He looks to the clipboard in his hands then to my ID then back to me. "You're in the VIP section. Stairs are on the right side of the club." He points to the door.
I'm in the VIP section.
How the hell am I in the VIP section?
The club is packed. It looks like it's meant to hold about three hundred people. There must be double that tonight. There are four guys playing on the small stage. I don't recognize them—I can't say I'm up on the alternative rock scene—but I've heard this song a hundred times.
The guys are cast in bright white stage lights. Except for soft purple lamps lining the walls, the rest of the room is dark.
Downstairs is a big dance floor and it's packed. I move around the edges of the club until I find the floating glass staircase.
I take careful steps. My balance in these wedges is questionable at best.
There's another slightly less burly bouncer guarding the VIP area. This time, I say nothing. I simply hold out my ID. He nods, looks to his clipboard, and lets me pass.
Damn. Upstairs is a lot more sparse—people sit at couches and arm chairs instead of packing onto a throbbing dance floor—but it makes up for it in sheer volume of beautiful people. A handful of teen soap stars, a top 40 pop-punk band, and a very famous lingerie model.
Suddenly, my department store dress and my comfort brand wedges feel insufficient. And to think I assumed a soundtrack release party would be full of people in band t-shirts and jeans. Downstairs, that's true. But up here, I'm clearly under-dressed.
"Hey, Jess!" Someone calls me over. Someone in the corner. Oh, it's Willow.
She's in Tom's lap and she's beaming. The girl couldn't be happier to see me.
How am I supposed to lie to her?
I nod a hello and walk over.
It's just her, Tom, and a tall, tattooed guy with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He's not in Sinful Serenade.
"Sit, sit." Willow pats the cushion next to hers. "Pete is talking to someone about—" She turns back to Tom. "What was he talking about?"
Tom laughs. He stares at her with every ounce of love and affection in the world. "He and Drew are fighting over the setlist."
"Pete doesn’t fight. I call shenanigans," she says.
The blue-eyed stranger clears his throat. His piercing eyes fix on me. "Jess, I take it?"
I nod. "Yes."
He extends his hand. "Ethan. Nice to meet you."
We shake. His piercing eyes pass over me. He's handsome. Incredibly handsome. The full sleeves of tattoos don't hurt. His lips curl into a cocky smile.
"You know that's Pete's girl," Tom says. "You better watch it."
