Page 13 of Follow the Rhythm
“Can I see?” Kieran asked. I looked up, surprised. I had assumed he wouldn’t be paying attention to us at all.
Grace passed over her phone. “She’s super talented.”
Kieran scrolled for a minute before passing the phone back. “You are talented,” he said to me, as if his saying made it an objective fact.
“Thanks.” Didn’t he have somewhere else to be? I figured he’d be finding a groupie to fuck.
The door to the greenroom slammed open and a small, older, ferrety man walked in, his arms open expansively.
“What a show! The label is pissing themselves in excitement,” he said to Kieran, then turned to Grace. “And you, love, you were brilliant! Like Tommy Ramone, back from the dead, but in the body of a lezzo.”
“Thanks?” Grace asked, frowning.
“You can’t call her a lezzo, Johnny. It’s not 1983,” Kieran said.
“Right-o. Sorry, love,” Johnny said with an insincere smile. I hated him already.
Before I could prepare myself, Ellis entered with a beautiful blonde woman at his side, who I recognized from stalking his Instagram as Bea Chamberlain, his heiress girlfriend. She was tall and elegantly thin, the perfect match for Ellis’s rangy grace. She surveyed the room, seemed to dismiss everyone but Ellis, and started looking at her phone.
Ellis met my eyes, and I braced myself. Would he think I was insane for showing up backstage? Think I was trying to stalk him? Somehow stop being a giant dick and apologize?
He looked away, his blue eyes colder than I remembered, dismissing me like his girlfriend had. No alarm, or anger, or even a hint of recognition. My stomach, which had clenched with tension, suddenly dropped in humiliation. Of course, he didn’t recognize me; he probably didn’t even remember me. I hadn’t intruded onhislife with three amazing, Grammy-winning albums.
“Ah, Ellis, the man of the hour,” Johnny said sycophantically. “Beautiful job. The label is pleased and wants to meet with you all next week to talk logistics.”
“Fantastic,” Ellis said, sounding a little bored. “Bea says we’re already trending.”
“All good news. Now, I’ll leave you all to it. But be at the label office Monday by 10, please.” Johnny bustled out.
Ellis didn’t bother to respond, but just headed towards the far wall where a bottle of champagne was chilling. Bea followed him, her nose still in her phone.
As Ellis drew closer, his scent hit me, and I was seventeen again, crying in my room and sniffing the sweater I’d worn whenhe hugged me goodbye. The old hurt boiled up all over again, and I needed to get out andaway.
“Sorry, I need to go,” I said to Austin and Grace, and darted from the room before they could react.
I fled down the hallway towards a door with an exit sign above it. When I burst through it, breathing in the fresh air, I tried to calm my breathing. I wouldnotcry over that selfish, horrible, insanely talented prick.
Sure, listening to his band every day of my life hurt a little, but it was a different, self-inflicted kind of hurt, like plucking out a stubborn eyebrow hair. This felt like a knife in the stomach.
I clenched my teeth and sucked in lungfuls of air, pacing the alleyway into which I’d emerged.
The door banged open, and for a wild moment, I half-expected Ellis to come out and fall to his knees, begging for forgiveness. But it was Kieran. He searched the alleyway until he saw me and strolled over.
“Can I help you?” I asked. I didn’t need an audience for this breakdown.
“Your friend is closing the bar tab,” he said. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
I glared up at him. Why did he have to be so tall?
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Are you?”
“Yes,” I bit out, my arms wrapped tightly around myself. “You can go now.”
“I’m not in the habit of leaving Omegas alone in dark alleyways,” he replied.
Great. My descenter must have worn off and blown my Beta cover. “I’m not interested in helping you live out your Omega-savior complex,” I said.
