TROY

“Come with me,” I’d murmured, holding her hands and staring into her eyes. I’m lovestruck. Can’t get enough of having her close to me, media circus be damned. “You’ve put a spell on me, Gypsy woman.”

She’d smirked. Rolled her eyes at me. But even so, she hadn’t removed her hands from mine. “So what’s your plan for me while you’re filming, then?”

“I believe you had fun shopping in the FNL souvenir store the last time?”

She laughed. “You don’t think I bought enough stuff? Oh wait, you’re right. I didn’t buy my own body weight in pens with pink ostrich down at the top.”

I’d smiled, picturing even more girly shit filling up our hotel room. “That’d be cool. Everything you own is a part of you to me,” I said, “and I’ll always want more. Basically, there’ll never be enough of you around to sate my need. You’ve turned me into an Aishe addict.”

It’s fucking nice to enter the FNL building with all the pretties around us.

We’ll be playing a couple of songs, Janet says, and we’ll be a part of a few skits. “Nothing crazy,” she assures us in the elevator. “And you have no idea what this is going to do to your careers. FNL has incredible pull in your target group.”

“You realize it’ll be another reminder of the sex video to people, right?” Elias says. He winks at Waris, who responds with one of her angelic smiles.

“You’re weird, man,” Emil says what we all think. “Why would you say that right now? We’ve signed on the dotted line and it’s happening, so there’s nothing more to discuss.”

“Just saying it because of Aishe. She doesn’t like it,” Elias says.

“Ha, I believe there’re a few others in this elevator who aren’t happy about the video either,” Zoe says.

“She’s not going to be in the skits,” I cut them both off. “Nothing has changed when it comes to that.” I send Aishe a side-glance, making sure she’s okay. Calm at my side, she leans her head against my shoulder.

“Really? You’re still not doing it, not even now that you’re”—Emil juts his chin toward me—“dating that jackass?”

Bo snorts, and even Nadia lets out one of her bell-tinkling laughs.

“Thanks, guys,” I say, bobbing my head politely to them for rewarding Emil’s stupidity. “And no. You don’t want any more limelight, right? Tell them what you want.”

She slackens her hold around my waist. “I just want to hang out in the green room. I’ll get drunk or something, read my Kindle, until it’s time for the filming.” She shrugs, settling against the banister of the elevator.

“You’re gonna watch us fuck up on the monitors in there, aren’t you?” Emil points at her like he’s got her all figured out.

“Exactly. That’s the plan.”

“Aishe, you’re a fucking awesome chick,” Elias says. “If I wasn’t busy with a goddess and you weren’t with that asshole, I’d have gone after you myself.”

Nadia, Zoe, and Troll erupt in different versions of “Oh my God” and “Are you for real right now?”

“Chainsaw Massacre,” I say, drawing everyone’s attention to myself. For effect, I let my gaze move creepily from one person to the other until it stills on Elias. “That was a very bloody film.”

Elias rolls his eyes. “You freak. Are you about to tell me I wouldn’t want to star in it, now?”

“Something like that.”

AISHE

Okay, I don’t know why I was worried. This show is super family friendly. Of course, they’d never be crude or gross or overly sexy in general. In the skits I’m seeing, the pretties have a little line each. The guys, the same. Clearly, they’re making it easy for them so they can just go out there and get it done.

The show is live, and I’m getting a prime seat in the front row of the audience, I’m being told. I’ll be sitting next to Troll, and we’ll enjoy the entire show, including the mini concert performed by Clown Irruption.

The more I see of them practicing, the more excited I am to see them film live. This is pretty epic, actually. So epic I text my cousin.

Shandor is in China with Tracing Holland. I swear that band tours as much as Clown Irruption.

Cousin! Clown Irruption is on FNL tonight!

He doesn’t reply, but I’m not worried. These things always get uploaded to YouTube, so if he’s busy, he’ll know what to look for once he has a spare moment.

The dress rehearsal for the live show is at eight o’clock, and the band takes a break for dinner. There’s catering at the TV station, but Clown Irruption’s super-fan pizza-chain owner has a restaurant not far away. He’s sectioned off a back area we sneak into from the alley.

“Selena’s being fussy about napping,” Nadia tells Bo. “I think I’m gonna head to the hotel and take a nap with her.”

Bo agrees, giving her a side-hug at the table. He nods to Troll, who instantly calls a cab and gives instructions for a backdoor pickup in fifteen.

Me, I’m full and sleepy like a little kid. It might be the lack of Hailey’s jealous stare from across the table. Never again do I have to worry about what she’ll say next, what disaster she’ll randomly start up under a thin veil of I-thought-it’d-be-fine or I-was-only-helping.

“Can you tuck me in too?” I ask, blinking heavily.

Troy strokes hair away from my face. “Why don’t you go with her? We have plenty of time before it starts.”

“Yeah, maybe I should.” I nuzzle his shoulder. “What about you?”

“Oh look at the newly-whatevers,” Elias says to Waris.

“This is so crazy, right?” Zoe chimes in. “We’re all paired up now. It’s like, aww.”

“It’s so very ‘aww,’” Emil agrees with his wife. “C’mere.” He twists her face upward, and everyone groans when he starts licking her mouth like they’re puppies.

“Bo and I are heading to Drum ‘n Strum,” Troy says.

“The what, now? A music store?” I guess, and he commits his slow, dancing head-bob.

“Yep. Tiny place. It’s our version of the back-alley bookstores you see on film. Bo wants these strings the guy has there”—Bo waggles his brows, knowing I couldn’t care less about guitar strings—”and he always keeps a stash of the best drumsticks known to man ready for me.”

“And what are those?” I lower my lashes at him, flirting even now. His smile broadens into straight, ivory contentment.

“He’s a sucker for Z sticks!” Emil butts in.

“Z sticks, huh?”

“Yep, and he breaks the shit out of everything you put into his hands. That’s why Rob’s always busy.” Emil fist-bumps Troy’s drum tech. “That and whenever shit happens to one of Troy’s bass drums and Rob has to crawl onstage and exchange the pedal in the middle of a song. Remember London?”

Elias cackles out loud.

“Yeah, he’s an animal,” Troy admits, jutting his chin at Rob, whose ears have gone pink from all the attention. “And Z sticks are awesome, because they’re a hundred percent straight. The feel of the maple variety in your hands is awesome, and the coating at the tip takes the shock out of your stroke.”

I narrow my eyes like I’m in doubt. “Takes the shock out of your stroke, huh?”

Troy leans in and puts his lips against my ear. “Only with my drumsticks.”

Zoe, Nadia, and I head back to the hotel for a break, while Waris remains with her man. There’s never been a better bed in the world than the one I crawl into twenty-five minutes later.

My scent might be here too, but it’s Troy’s I smell when I, in a bubble of euphoria, throw the sheets over my head and giggle to myself. How did life come to this? I’ve never been happier!

I’m enveloped by barely-there traces of tarragon and Artemisia, thyme and cinnamon. I’ve never asked him where his spices come from. It’s like he exudes them, and I’m not ready for that fantasy to burst.

As I close my eyes, I let myself drift off into cinnamon kisses.

A knock on the door.

Another knock. Harder.

“Aishe! Are you there?” Zoe.

Oh boy, what time is it?

I get up, wobble to the door on sleepy feet and open. “What, are we leaving already?”

“Yeah, you didn’t pick up the phone. The cab’s downstairs. Or you wanna skip the dress rehearsal and go straight to the recording?”

The abrupt wakeup makes me queasy. “What time do I have to be there for the live recording, you think?”

“No idea. I can have Troll text you. We gotta run, though, if you want to come now?”

“No, no, go. I’ll be there eventually, at least for the actual show. Break a leg.”

“Thanks!”

I lean against the door, groaning to myself as she leaves. A glance at my watch verifies that I’ve slept for two hours. That’s so crazy.

I get my cell. Four missed calls and a text message. The ringer is off, so no wonder there, but what about the hotel phone? A big, square, blinking light lets me know there’s at least one message waiting.

I call Troy while I get to my knees in front of the fridge. I pull out a diet Coke and crack it open as he gets on.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” I start preemptively. I’m not sure why I feel embarrassed for having overslept when I don’t even have a job to do tonight.

“Hey, my moixcha! We’re back at the set. I’m about to start doing my lines with the chick who’s standing in for the chick who’s gonna be you.” There’s a smile in his voice. I instantly want to kiss him again. Ah the Drago Fuoc being all nice. Who’d have guessed this could happen to me?

“What’s with all the chicks?” I ask.

“The actress who plays you is having scheduling issues, so someone else is stepping in with me. She’ll be there for the recording, though, Janet says. I don’t really care either way. The girl I’m working with is cool.”

“Hot?” I ask, but really, there’s no stir of jealousy at the base of my stomach.

“Not even. But she’s nice. Are you on your way?” he asks.

“Mmm. About that: I overslept.” I sound as embarrassed as I feel.

Troy lets out a warm laugh in my ear. I close my eyes to really enjoy it. Flop to the bed again, burying in Troy spices and the freshness of our morning love.

“My girl was exhausted,” he murmurs. “It’s okay! You’ve had a lot going on lately. I’m glad you slept. Why don’t you just take a bath, grab a little bottle of champagne, and relax. Then, I’ll let people know you’ll be here for the recording?”

I want to be there for him, but this sounds a whole lot like Heaven. “You’ll be busy anyway, right?”

“I will. It’ll just be running in and out for my parts, retakes and such, until the actual dress rehearsal begins. After that, we get a quick breather before it’s showtime.”

“Yesss,” I whisper. “And I’ll be nice and clean for after.”

“Mm-hmm. Although I don’t mind you dirty.”

“Unless it’s soles of people's feet and love-infested hands?” I suggest.

“Now, that’s different, of course. In such cases, I have to wash you myself. Thoroughly. Everywhere. Come to think of it, I might have to do that after the show, just to be on the safe side.”

“Of course.”

The audience is buzzing with excitement. It wasn’t a problem to get in here—Troll sent security down to fetch me, and now, I’m seated next to him. He’s focused but tired after a long shift with the guys.

Clown Irruption’s most dance-worthy songs merge into each other over the speakers in a unique FNL playlist. People wiggle in their seats, happy. I couldn’t have been in a better spot, front and center, just like I’d been promised.

I have jitters for my friends. They’re about to go onstage for a live recording going out to millions of viewers. When the spotlights are turned up and the music fades off, I forget to breathe… until Axton Rush comes onstage!

“Hello my fellow Clown Irruption fans,” today’s number one action film hero murmurs into his microphone. His eyes glide slowly over the front line until they fleetingly still on me.

People around us giggle, because sure, Clown Irruption has shot to fame, but Axton Rush? After five years starring exclusively in big budget films, he’s the new, sexier Chris Hemsworth.

“Yeah!” some guy hollers behind me, and Axton breaks out the panty-dropping grin he’s famous for.

“That’s right. You know what I’m talking about.” The spotlights lead him to the right, seemingly offstage, but then he’s suddenly at a set that looks like a rustic rehearsal room.

“Oh my God—look!” I hiss to Troll. “There they are!” The four of them are tinkering with their instruments, Troy supposedly adjusting his cymbals.

“Du-u-ude,” Axton says, sliding into character. Suddenly, he’s the perfect copy of a stuttering teenaged boy, asking ridiculous questions, wanting to touch Troy’s drumsticks and get Emil to sign a tramp stamp on his lower back with permanent marker. He promises to never wash that part of his body again.

Axton Rush losing his shit over my friends? I’m cracking up.

“Oh man,” I whisper to Troll during the set change. “I didn’t know Axton could be so funny.”

“I know. He killed it. And the guys kept a straight face the whole way. I’m sure they slayed it out there too, with all of America laughing their asses off.”

The production is flawless. Between each take, there’s a frenzy of activity, with all sorts of crew running around, moving lights and microphones, then finally a girl with a film clapper, holding it up and smacking it closed in front of each of the cameras in on the shoot. This is a world I’ve never been a part of, and it’s electrifying.

Clown Irruption skits are wound in throughout the show, with Nadia and Bo enacting “being discovered” by a porn film director. He’s a super-sleezy version of Isaias di Nascimbeni played by Axton Rush. They were right about not having to say much. For the most part, their jobs are to look at each other with incredulous expressions over the director’s colorful suggestions.

At one point, he takes over the restaurant table where they’re supposedly having breakfast, and dry-humps the air in different ways, showing his interpretations of “antelope sex” versus “tiger sex.” By the time he’s done, Bo is laughing in earnest, and it makes the audience roll with laughter.

But midway through the second set, as my moixcho’s skit begins, everything changes.