Page 5 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

Dashing away a stupid tear, I turned down the next hallway. I wasn’t capable enough to play a bass guitar, or hit four octaves like Lindsey, or break the sonic barrier like Cooper.

I was just a hairstylist who had some talent with a mascara wand. End of story.

And I didn’t even know where I was headed right now, other than away from him. I needed a couple of minutes to regroup. Then I’d be fine. I would shore up my defenses, put my game face back on, and join the afterparty.

Because there was always an afterparty, especially at the end of an MSG show. Home base meant rocking extra hard, onstage and off.

I’d started my partying tonight as part of the fan experience. Had Oz even noticed? I thought he’d looked our way a few times while I was dancing, but he hadn’t mentioned it. Hadn’t seemed to even notice my outfit. It was an eye-catcher, which was how I’d even ended up in that cage. It wasn’t my laminated hairstyle and makeup credentials, that was for sure. Nope, I’d been granted a trip onstage thanks to my skill at shaking my ass.

Kerry and I had honed our talents in that department years ago. To this day, I thought of her when I danced. I remembered her endless energy and that fifty kilowatt smile that could brighten the darkest room.

Oz had the same smile, if he would ever use it. I so rarely saw him do anything but glower these days. Although he seemed to save most of those sneering expressions for me.

When and if he bothered to look my way at all.

The doors on the first two rooms I tried were locked with a keypad. But there was another set of them down the hall, and one of those was open, according to the keypad flashing with an error.

I cast a quick look around. Other than hanging backstage with the others—or getting the hell out of Dodge—I didn’t really have my own space. I wasn’t going to cry in a bathroom stall like some teenager.

No, you’re going to cry in an empty meeting room like a pathetic twenty-three-year-old.

Whatever.

If no one saw me sniffle, it totally didn’t count.

I reached for the doorknob, then recoiled and grabbed the hem of my boy shorts to try to fumble the door open. Not ideal but it got the job done. I slipped into the room and flipped on the light switch with my elbow. It looked like it was mainly a storage space, connected to the room beside it with a door between them, currently closed.

Good enough for my use.

I’d no sooner sagged into an old chair when voices next door caught my attention, growing in volume as if the people were just arriving. Laughter and the hum of conversation had me rising again. I supposed it was just as well. I wasn’t going to eavesdrop, and it looked like I wouldn’t be giving in to my emotions either.

Minus a swipe or two under my burning eyes anyway.

Then Oz’s voice boomed across the small space I was in as if he was standing right in front of me.

“What the fuck is this about? Does anyone know? We never have band meetings after a show. We got shit to do.”

“Oh, you mean chicks to do?” Jamie’s sly laughter had my cheeks flaming to go with the sting in my eyes.

“Hey, if that’s how you plan to spend your night, I won’t judge,” he tossed back. I could picture him lifting his hands, palms out, all innocence.

Yeah, right. Oz Taylor hadn’t been innocent even when we were back in school. Far from it. Not that Kerry and I had been in high school at the same time he was attending. He’d been a freshman in college when we were freshmen in high school, so we’d only seen him at the occasional party. Until the end of our freshman year when those parties had become more frequent, and Oz had been home on summer break so he’d come around more often. Always lurking.

Waiting for us to mess up.

“Not me, jackwit, you. You’re the one who bangs anything that moves.”

“Not sure that’s even nece

ssary,” Cooper chimed in, his voice thick with amusement. “Long as they have a pulse and pretty hair, good enough for old Ozzy.”

“Maybe it’s the name.” This time, it was Zane. “Instead of Prince of Darkness, ours is just Prince of Pussy.”

I shut my eyes. I knew how the band was with each other. Their banter included lots of teasing and inside jokes and a friendly bit of rivalry. Mostly all in good fun. They got along so well most of the time that an outsider could get jealous.

Someone such as myself, for example. Who wanted more than anything to fit in somewhere.

Anywhere.

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