Chapter 1
The Day It All Began
“Amelia! Are you really wearing that to the BAD concert?”
Bastards and Dangerous, otherwise known as BAD, are all of the above from what I hear. I’m not a fan. I’ve got eclectic tastes in music, but they’re just a little too loud for me. Since I’m not a fan, I don’t feel the need to wear the overly obvious I’m a groupie BAD shirt Belle brought over for me. Instead, I’m wearing my best curve-hugging jeans, my favorite black Converse, and a dark blue V-neck sweater. The concert is at The Greek, an outdoor venue. Our nights have been hovering at fifty degrees all week, which is unusually cold for Southern California, especially for late August. Global warming at its finest, but I’m not going to freeze so I can fit in with the crowd.
“Yes, Belle, this is exactly what I’m wearing. Don’t like it? I’ll happily bow out and you can give my ticket to someone else,” I answer with a smug smile.
“No, it’s fine. You can come like that. I only hope they’re not offended when they meet you and you’re not supporting them,” she says while crossing her arms and giving me her best pouty face.
“I don’t know why you think we’re even going to meet them. They’re the biggest band out there right now. Besides, I highly doubt they’ll care if one person out of the millions they’ve met isn’t branded in something they make a commission off of.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I’ve already told you it’s inevitable. Thanks to my kickass job as music editor at Slammed Magazine, we’ve got great press seats. And they sent VIP backstage passes so I can interview them.”
I laugh, I can’t help it. “Belle, I love you, but their manager said ‘if they have time’ you can interview them. You know as well as I do bands don’t stick around the venue any longer than necessary. By the time we get backstage, they’ll be long gone.”
“Nope.” She pauses to slick on her lip gloss before finishing her thought. “That’s how it usually works, but not tonight. Something big is coming down the pipeline, they’re getting ready to announce something. Everyone is talking about it. Slammed is the biggest entertainment magazine on the market and they want us there. They’ve never had someone hand deliver backstage passes to us before. That’s why I took them instead of giving them to some rookie reporter. And that’s why I want you there, too. Since you’re an author, you can help me craft an amazing story.”
“One book, Belle. I’ve got one book out. Using the word author is reaching a bit.” She has way too much faith in me.
“Amelia Greyson! Stop belittling yourself. You may only have one book out, but I know you have at least ten more on your computer you don’t think are good enough to publish. Your one book has been number one on the New York Times bestseller list for the last three weeks! That’s huge! It’s author status at its finest. You need to be proud of your accomplishment, I know I am. I tell everyone I can about my best friend the author.”
Belle is beaming, her smile is as wide as I’ve ever seen it, and I know she’s right. It is huge for me; it’s a dream come true. But it could also be a fluke, so I’m not planning on moving out of my cozy one-bedroom apartment anytime soon.
“Alright, we’re wasting time being sentimental. Let’s get out of here and go meet your BAD boys.”
She giggles. “I’m hoping I can get one of them to be bad with me tonight!” We both burst into laughter and head down to the limo; at least Slammed sends their staff out to events in style.
Once we’re settled in our seats at the venue, Belle is bouncing around like an excited teenager, but then again, so is almost everyone else here. Thankfully, we’re in the press section, so it’s not teeming with overly excited fans. The people in this section at least pretend to tone it down a bit … that is, until the show starts.
The opening act was good, but for the life of me, I can’t remember what they said their name was. I’ll have to ask Belle later. She’s having a blast, just like everyone else. I’m trying to act excited for her sake, but it’s hard to feign excitement for a band you don’t really like.
When the music begins to blare and the lights start flashing at seizure-inducing speeds, the band runs onto the stage one by one.
How in the world can they even see with all those strobe lights?
“How the fuck are you doing tonight, Los Angeles?”
The crowd’s response is deafening. Another band member picks up a mic. “I don’t think you heard Noah when he asked you how the fuck are you doing tonight, Los Angeles?”
The crowd screams even louder, and I’m wishing I would have brought some earplugs to help take down the decibels a bit. I forgot how loud rock concerts are. Or maybe I just selectively blocked it from my memory.
Another guy walks out from the side of the stage; he’s cute in a tatted up rock star kind of way. “Alright, we’re about to kick this bitch off, but before we do and you all are too drunk and hyped up to remember, Sawyer has some news we want to share with you.”
One of the four takes his spot on the drums, the other guys are assembling themselves with guitars, and Sawyer—I’m assuming—takes the mic. He looks a lot like the cute one who came out first, just a little more sinful. I think Belle mentioned there were brothers in the band. I can’t say for sure from here, but I think he even has dimples. Witnessing their sex appeal up close and personal reminds me of Belle’s earlier wish, and I have to admit I agree with her. I wouldn’t be opposed to being bad with them for a night. Even if their music isn’t for me.
“Los Angeles, are you ready to rock?”
More deafening screams. I think a girl in the front row just passed out. Good God, it isn’t all that, and neither are they. They’re just men. Sexy as sin, granted, but still just men, and self-proclaimed bastards at that.
“First, I want to say thank you all for coming out to see us tonight. There aren’t any other California shows on our tour schedule since we’re winding up our current tour. However, we have some really big news to announce and needed to stop off to give Slammed Magazine an exclusive interview.”
My eyes lock on Belle’s; hers are as wide as saucers. She had no clue the extent of their generosity when they gave Slammed tickets and passes. They must have really wanted to keep this a secret if Slammed didn’t even get a heads up, only an “if they have time” statement. It’s why the passes were hand delivered. They’re smart; they knew the hottest entertainment magazine on the planet wouldn’t flake on them.
“So we figured two birds, one stone. We play for you in our awesome home state and then do the interview before heading back out on the road. Of course, it goes without saying we strongly encourage you to pick up Slammed Magazine in two weeks to read about our exciting news. Or at the very least, go to Slammedinc.com and check out the entertainment updates.”
The crowd explodes into thunderous cheers and applause as the band kicks off the show. Belle has mellowed somewhat, and I know she’s wondering how she’s going to pull this off in just a few short days. I’ll definitely have to help her now. Slammed just went to print with next week’s issue, and it’ll be out in a few days. She’s got a small window of time to write and perfect this article before the following week’s issue goes to print. It’s kind of presumptuous of them to announce when the article will be out, but then again, any magazine worth their readers would do whatever they have to in order to scoop this story. Even if it means putting out a special edition, which is what is likely going to happen.
Whatever her worries are, Belle’s over them in a flash, and she bounces back up to dance and scream the night away. Of course, I’m not a total downer, so I join her dance party and we celebrate her happiness. Even though I’m not a fan of the band, I’m a huge fan of Belle, and this article is going to launch her career even farther. I’m so proud of her.
The band leaves the stage for a quick break, and before they come back onstage for their encore, Belle and I make our way down to the backstage entrance. We’re not the only ones with this idea, but we are the only ones with the passes granting us access to BAD. Thankfully, there are a few bodyguards posted who are able to guide us through the crowd of crazy bitches. I seriously thought one was going to fight me just to get my pass. Little does she know, I’ve been there and done that. I can take down a crazy bitch in a hot second if necessary. I left that all behind me for a reason. Hardcore fans are crazy; they’re constantly throwing their underwear and yelling out crazed delusions of having rock star babies. Or even worse, trying to act out that fantasy by drugging them and tampering with condoms. These women, and even some men, have no shame. Don’t they realize these men are just people? I don’t know how celebrities do it.
People don’t realize all you give up to live out your dreams—the demons you take on, the heavy toll it takes on your life. How can anyone get used to that? How could you ever trust anyone enough to forge a new friendship or fall in love? I’d always question if they truly wanted me or what I have to give them.
We’re ushered down a long corridor, our footsteps echoing behind us. Up ahead of us, the band is huddled together getting ready to go back onstage for their encore. From the looks of it, besides the normal crew and staff, we are literally the only people back here with passes.
Interesting …
We’re greeted by a large man with a security all-access badge about halfway between the entrance and where the band is standing. I wouldn’t ever want to wind up on this guy’s bad side. He’s intimidating. “We have to go past the band to get to the green room where they’ll meet with you later. Please, don’t make me get rough with you two. If you have fangirl shit to get out of your system, do it in the green room. Don’t say anything to them as we pass, and don’t freak out or try to grope them. You’re here in a professional capacity, and I hope you’ll continue to act that way.”
Belle and I exchange knowing glances, and I know she’s thinking exactly what I am. This guy is a dick. But he’s doing his job, and I’m sure it’s a difficult one. Belle is a fan, but she’s a professional first. As for me, I don’t fangirl over anyone, let alone a band I don’t even like.
As we pass the band, their PA is giving them a two-minute countdown. One of the guys looks up at us as we walk by with an interested look on his face. He’s cute, and from the smirk on his face, he knows it. I still feel his eyes on me as we walk by; however, when I cock my head to the side, I find it’s the one with the dimples who is staring at my ass. These jeans were so worth the price I paid for them.
Mr. Gruff and Serious deposits us in the green room and lets us know we can help ourselves to anything. Then he informs us he’ll be right outside the door as he closes it behind him.
“Amelia! Pinch me! Can you believe this? BAD gave one, and only one, exclusive interview, and it’s mine! Oh my God! This is going to skyrocket my career as long as I don’t screw it up.” Her excitement makes me laugh. She has nothing to worry about; her work is amazing.
“Belle, you’ve got this. Get your squealing out now, take some deep breaths, and get ready for the story of your life. I’m so proud of you, and I’m right here to help take notes, too.”
“Thanks, Mel, I knew I could count on you.” After giving me a quick hug, she does indeed get her squealing out of her system while watching the band on the very large TV mounted on the wall.
I can’t stop thinking about Dimples watching me as we passed by. The thought brings heat between my legs, even if I shouldn’t let it. He’s not relationship material, and I’m not supermodel gorgeous. Besides, all these men have a reputation for one-night stands and unemotional flings. Those are two things I can’t do, not anymore. When I’m sleeping with someone, it’s because I’m invested in them emotionally. Which is probably why I haven’t had sex with a man in over a year.
Don’t believe everything you hear, Amelia. You know better than most how things are blown out of proportion in this industry.
After the encore, the sounds of the thunderous applause echo all the way into the green room. Even the walls are shaking from it. Belle’s nerves are starting to kick in because she’s simultaneously tapping her foot and picking at her nails, both of which are nervous habits of hers. “Belle, you need to breathe. They’re just people. You’ve interviewed tons of musicians before and I’ve never seen you this nervous.”
“I know, Mel, but this is BAD, and they’re the holy grail of interviews. I can’t help but be nervous, and of course their excessive good looks only make it worse.” I can’t argue with her there, they are good-looking men.
The voices resonating from the hallway are growing closer by the second until they’re suddenly upon us and the door is thrown open.
“That was fucking awesome! One of the best shows we’ve done this entire tour. The outdoor venues are so much better. Don’t you guys think so?” As they talk amongst themselves, I’m drawn in by their enthusiasm.
Seeing these men come in on their post-performance high is captivating. Their happiness is almost contagious. Belle and I are taking them in, watching in fascination. It’s been a long time since I was a part of this kind of excitement. I almost forgot how much goes into pulling off a successful show. They’ve got a posse of people with them. The PA I saw earlier is trying to wrangle them up while I assume their stylist is the one carrying a few extra shirts.
The cute one with the dimples takes one of those shirts. When he pulls his sweaty shirt off over his head, I’m absolutely mesmerized by the way his muscles move. His abs are screaming for me to come and lick them, the beads of sweat crying out my name. I want to taste his essence on my tongue. Sadly, as fast as the mini porn played out in my head, it’s over as his shirt goes on. He catches me looking at him and flashes me a sexy smirk again. The flush I feel spreading over my face is nothing, I’m sure, compared to how it looks.
Hoping to suppress the flush, I open my water bottle and try to cool myself down from the sudden heat enveloping my body. He’s eying my lips as they wrap around the rim of the bottle, and I wish I were wrapping them around him instead. I drink as slowly and seductively as possible, knowing he’s watching me. When I raise my eyes back up to his, he licks his lips. Holy hell.
This is foreplay, yet, at the same time, couldn’t be anything further from it. The spell is broken when one of the crew calls for him. It’s just as well, musicians aren’t my thing… anymore.