Page 61 of Fire
“Texas,” we answer in unison.
“We’ll spend a week there,” Hendrix elaborates. “Wednesday is Houston, and then we go on to play Dallas on Saturday.”
“And when are you in LA?” Violet asks.
“Two weeks, I think?” I say, and before she can ask, I add, “Yes, I got you a ticket—and a backstage pass!”
“Yes!” She throws a fist in the air. “And don’t worry, Mom. I’ll get you that pic.”
“You’ve always been my favorite.”
“Hey!” I say at the same time Hendrix asks, “What pic?”
“My mom is obsessed with Asher,” I tell him with a sigh. “She’s been begging me to get a picture of him ever since I stepped onto the plane.”
“Oh, well, hell. I can get you one. I have a ton. What’s your flavor, Mrs. V? Hot and sweaty right off stage? Candid? Blooper reel? I’ve got ’em all.”
“Never mind,” my mom deadpans, focusing all her attention on Hendrix. “He’s my favorite.”
Then, I spent the next thirty minutes listening to them bond over their mutual affection for Asher Knight.
Chapter Eighteen
HENDRIX
Something weird is going on tonight.
I noticed it the moment we arrived at the arena. A small crowd of VIPs stood lined up behind a rope to watch us, and as usual, the instant we stepped out of the SUVs, they erupted with excitement.
They screamed and cheered. I swear some people were even sobbing as if the Messiah himself had just arrived. Girls held up glittery homemade signs with Asher and Zander’s names surrounded by hearts. Darius paused to take photos with a kid holding drumsticks. Manic Fanatic shirts were on display everywhere.
And then it happened.
“Hendrix!”
“Oh my god, it’s the hot new bass player!”
“Hendrix! Over here!”
“Sign my shirt!”
“Sign my tits!”
And it didn’t stop there. All the backstage pass holders suddenly seemed to notice I existed, pausing to take selfies withme and ask for my autograph. One girl even slipped her phone number into my pocket.
That quickly went in the trash.
On stage, I heard my name called more times than I could count. It felt like I was living in some sort of parallel universe.
Finally, after we finish the last encore and everyone has left the stage, I turn to Darius and Asher before they head to their dressing rooms to change.
Zander is already long gone.
Probably balls deep in his wife, no doubt.
“Did something happen?” I ask as techies seamlessly move around us like a well-oiled machine. I kind of feel bad being in their way, so I need to make this quick.
“What do you mean?” Asher asks, chugging a bottle of water.
