Page 8 of The Music of Love

Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t show up. Then I’ll know for sure that he’s an asshole, and I won’t have to prove anything to anybody.

I take the can back to my seat, but when I look back down at my phone, I see I have a new text message from an unknown number.

Your car has arrived and is waiting downstairs.

I get a nervous twinge in my chest but do my best to ignore it as I stand up and immediately walk to the door.

“Time to go,” I say to Sarah as I grab my keys. I turn and glance at her on my way out and give her the best smug, hot-bitch face I can muster. “And hey, don’t wait up.”

“Oh sure, bitch!” I hear her shout, laughing after me as I tug the door closed behind me and make my way down the stairs.

Outside, there’s one of the nicest cars I’ve ever seen in my life waiting for me. I don’t even have a clue what it is or who makes it. All I know is that it’s black and looks like something a billionaire CEO would ride in.

I take four steps away from my building, and the back door opens automatically for me, causing me to stop dead in my tracks. The driver’s side window rolls down, and a man smiles at me. “Hop in,” he says. “I’ll take you to the venue.”

“Venue?” I ask.

“Where Cal’s performing,” he replies, with aduhtone to his voice. “Didn’t he tell you?”

Ah, so that’s his idea of a date, I realize with a sigh.Going to watch him perform.

“No,” I reply. “He didn’t.”

I almost don’t even want to get in the car at all. I almost just want to go back upstairs, get in bed, and watch Netflix and eat Cheetos for the rest of the night.

Go and watch him perform? Turn me into another screaming fangirl? Yeah, what a fantastic idea for a date.

But Sarah’s upstairs. How embarrassing would it be to go back up there after the way I just stormed out of there?

No. I have to go. If not for any other reason than to see what his great idea for wooing me was.

“Well, you coming?” the driver asks, smirking. I smile back and slide into the back seat of what basically amounts to a tiny hotel room on wheels. It’s just crazy, and far and away from the beat-up sedan I drive to work every day.

There is more leg room than I know what to do with, leather and wood everywhere, buttons that I’m not sure I even want to press. I feel like royalty but at the same time, completely out of place.

The car takes me to the biggest venue at the center of the city. We’re stopped by police at a roadblock, but the driver just flashes a pass, and we’re redirected to a side entrance that takes us into the parking structure.

“VIP access is nice, eh?” the driver asks as he pulls the car right up to an elevator with a few suited men, obviously security, standing beside it.

“Yeah, nice…” We both get out of the car. I can hear, and feel, the thump of bass from above. “So which way do I go to the arena?”

“Arena?” the driver asks, giving me a funny look. “Sweetie, don’t you get it yet? You’reVIP.You have full backstage access, thanks to Cal.”

“I do?” Suddenly, I feel pretty stupid. How could I have missed that given the way I got here and the way I got into the building?

“Yeah.” He grins. “Now come on, let’s get you upstairs.”

6

Reese

I have to admit,when the elevator doors ding and open to a sea of people all running around in a tizzy, something about my attitude to tonight changes.

There are peopleeverywhere, some of them hurrying around trying to get somewhere, others chatting in groups laughing, others talking like there’s something very important going on. The whole time, I can hear the sound of whatever opening act is performing tonight for Cal.

“This way,” the driver says, guiding me through the crowd, one hand on my back. He waves a hand in front of us and calls out, “Hey, outta the way, guys!”

The sea of people crowding the hallway parts for us so we can get through, and we make our way to a dressing room with a plaque with Cal’s name on it. The driver knocks three times, then twice, and I hear Cal’s voice call out from within.

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