As the band kick off the penultimate gig of the tour, I stand guard with Monica at the side of the stage. The atmosphere is good tonight. The crowd’s in full swing and aside from Jay’s initial doubts about continuing with the tour, he seems in reasonable spirts.

As they unleash a fan favorite, the packed venue erupts into euphoria.

A warm glow of pride travels through me. I love watching what Jay does best; well, second best to what he does to me between the sheets. Here comes that urge to pinch myself again.

“Things settled down?” Monica shouts over the loud rumble of guitars and drums.

“I think so, no signs of any stalker yet.”

“Good.” Her brows lower. “I wonder why Greg never mentioned it before.”

“I think Jay wanted to keep it away from most of the band and crew.”

She angles her head. “So how did Mike find out?”

“He was the one who fought the girl off. Jay was wounded pretty badly.”

She shakes her head and blows out. “Weird how it never leaked . . . I mean, the press would’ve gone nuts over a story like that.”

I nod and take a drink of Coke from my paper cup.

Three more songs pass before I get the urge to go pee. I pass my drink to Monica. Reluctantly, she takes it. “Where are you going?”

“The restroom.”

Just before I walk away, she grabs onto my arm. “I’m going with you.”

I roll my eyes. “Monica.”

“Jay’s orders.”

I chuckle. “Babe, take a look around, there’s no one here. Just happy fans enjoying the gig. I’ll be right back.”

She glares at me the same way she did back in high school, when I used to secretly smoke in the gym’s changing rooms and she’d ready herself to give me a lecture.

I huff. “Cut me a break here?”

She chews on her lower lip. “Well, all right then. But be quick. If Jay sees me standing here without you, he’ll lose his shit.”

“I promise. I’ll be five minutes.”

As a slink away she shouts out, “I’m timing you.”

I laugh at my nutty friend as I disappear backstage and navigate the labyrinth of hallways to the restroom.

* * *

Flushing the chain, I tear off a small ream of toilet paper, wipe my nose, and walk out of the stall toward the sinks.

There’s not a soul in the restroom. No one dare move a muscle when Sweet Agony rips up the stage. For once I’m okay with missing out. I have my whole life to enjoy Sweet Agony’s music, more importantly—Mr. Jay Tyler.

As I wash my hands, I stare at the plug and daydream about our vacation. I called mom before the show and told her everything. She gave me the third degree, which of course I expected, but I’m sure deep down she’s happy that I’m happy. Maybe I can use my business degree to help the band? What a dream that would be; twenty-four seven with Jay, professional and personal—very personal.

Just as I take a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, the restroom door opens. I glance to my left and see a blonde girl head straight for the sink, three down from me. She’s smiling, whistling along to the faint sounds coming from the arena.

“What do you think?” I ask her.

“Awesome. It’s my fifth time seeing them.”

I narrow my eyes. She looks . . . familiar. She stares back, her jaw opening slightly.

“The . . . coffee shop?”

She nods quickly. “Yes. Shit. How are you?”

What are the chances I bump into that barista girl from LA?

“What brings you to San Diego?” I ask.

“Visiting my big sister. Thought I’d check out the band while I was in town.”

I toss the paper towel into a steel trash can. “Small world.”

“True.”

As I go walk past her, she grabs the sleeve of my shirt. My eyes round.

“Sorry,” she says with a slight smile. “I don’t mean to bother you, but, you know Jay . . . right?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course, you were with him at the coffee shop.” She rolls her eyes. “I was just wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“Sure.”

“Could you introduce us? Backstage, I mean. I’m a huge fan.”

I pause for a moment. “I’m not sure. Unless you have a pass to meet the band, it’s tricky.”

“It would mean so much.” Her eyes plead with me.

“I don’t know . . .”

Just then, the door swings open. “Krissy.”

“Monica.”

She glances at the blonde girl and then back at me. “Everything all right?”

I look at the blonde super fan. “Everything’s fine. This is—”

“Cassy,” she finishes.

“Cassy wanted to know is she could meet the band.”

Monica tilts her head and shrugs. “I’m sure Jay would be cool with it.”

Cassy almost jumps in place through sheer delight.

After thanking me, I tell her to meet us both in the venue carpark after the show. We’d still have to clear it with Greg and the tour manager, but Cassy seems harmless enough.

She exits the restroom with a spring in her step, leaving me and Monica alone.

“Sure that wasn’t the stalker?” Monica says with a half grin.

“I’m sure. Me and Jay saw her in LA.”

“Hmm . . . you never know.”

“I can assure you, it’s all good.”

She scoffs. “Well, she was pretty weird.”

“I’m pretty weird, but I ended up doing okay.”

Monica’s lips push up at the corners. “Struck gold more like. Come on, let’s get back out there before the band send out an SOS.”

I don’t tell Monica, but my heart was pounding speaking with Cassy. Jay’s story has affected me more than I thought it would.