Page 61 of Broken Bridges

A reporter in a short-sleeve gray button-down shirt raised his hand. “So, Lewis? You’re the big secret these guys have been keeping in the closet. How do you feel about making such a big jump from playing in a small Brooklyn-come-Boston bar band to a group as popular as The Flintlocks?”

Lewis leaned toward the mic and smiled his magical smile. “First of all, I came out of the closet a long time ago.” Low laughter and chuckles rippled across the room. “And second? Yes, it’s a big jump, but I’m ready. I was born to play with these guys.”

A young male reporter with short brown hair and a tight polo shirt was quick to ask, “Are you touring the album?”

“We sure are.” Slip nodded. “But more detail will be provided when the album is released in May.”

Waving her fingers in the air, a Halle Berry lookalike didn’t even wait for April’s nod before she fired off her question. “Are you all single? I mean...the fans will want to know who’s available and who’s not?” She sat primed on the edge of her seat. Her gaze, unrelenting. My skin prickled. Oh, yeah...tabloid reporter. How did she get in here?

Flint laughed. “I’m well and truly off the market. Sutton is my girl.”

Cole threw the audience a sexy, broad grin. “I’m always single.”

Slip let out a nervous laugh. “Um...not looking at present.”

My interest piqued. He’d spent way too much time texting someone recently. I’d place bets on the fact he was seeing someone, but clearly didn’t want the guys to know who.

“And you, Lewis?” the reporter asked. “Some interesting photos of you and Tia Tanner surfaced on the weekend.”

My breath hitched. A chill ran down my spine. Too many heads turned my way. Shit! I’d wanted to avoid this. But Lewis just grinned and replied with a level tone, “Tia is a good friend. We had a fun night and a little too much to drink. There’s nothing more to it. I’m very single, and very gay, and for now, I’m just putting all my focus and energy into the band.”

As I pasted on a sweet smile for the cameras, and the flashes flickered in my eyes, the hurt in my chest flared. I didn’t need the reminder that the band came first. Or that he was into men. Or that my feelings for him had to be caged. I had a plan to do just that. Now if everyone stopped looking at me, I’d be fine. Ergh. I needed a stiff drink.

I abandoned Sutton and Maddy, headed for the bar, and downed two shots of bourbon.

As I grabbed a third, Gena rushed up to me. Tears streamed down her face. “Tia. I need your help. Come.”

“Shit. Okay.” I downed my shot and hobbled after her as quick as I could. “What’s happened?”

We slipped inside the auditorium and veered toward the control booth. A few feet away, she spun to face me, wiping her tears and perspiration on her T-shirt sleeve. “Promise me you won’t tell Cole and the guys.”

“Tell them what?” Crap. Had some piece of expensive equipment been broken? Something wasn’t working and couldn’t be fixed in time?

“Just promise me.” Her chin trembled.

“I’m not sure I can do that.” I loved Gena—she’d been with the band for years, but Cole and the guys were my family. “I love my brother and if this fucks with him, sorry, no.”

“Okay.” Sniffling, she closed her eyes and nodded. “Just not tonight, alright?”

With an aching heart, I rubbed her arm. I hated dishing out tough love, but my guys came first. “They’re on a high and about to play, then party the night away. It won’t be an issue, will it?”

“I hope not.” The color drained from her face as she rubbed her abdomen. “I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, wow. Congratulations.” A baby? I hadn’t expected that. My ovaries twanged. Past plans to have a family with Rhett rattled my brain, but I was quick to flick them away. They were dead. Stupid ovaries.

“No.” Her voice trembled. “It’s not good. I’m sick. I can’t stop throwing up.”

Panicked, I glanced around the empty auditorium. The black walls, stage curtains, and floor offered no relief to the pressure rising in my chest. “Have you got someone to cover for you?” Surely Tristan, their lighting engineer, could manage. But this was a big show.

“I’ve called two backup crew but they’re already at gigs. I don’t have time to get anyone else here before the guys need to go on stage. Tristan has to monitor the lightning. Kent from the venue is tech support only; he won’t run the show. Can...can you help, please? You’ve been to the rehearsals. You know the set. It’s only if I need to rush to the bathroom.”

“But...” My head spun as I scanned the huge channel mixer, the three monitors stationed throughout the booth, and the flashing audio switches. “Gena, I don’t know the system well enough.”

“Yes, you do.” She clutched my hands. “I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.”

I rubbed at the pressure mounting in my temples. What had happened to no stress? “Everhide is here. I’ll get one of them to help.”

“Tia? You can do this.”

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