“Look at these numbers. Ride the Tide is climbing the charts fast.”

Trevor took a paper from Burt, the smile on their band manager’s face infectious.

“Holy shit.”

He wasn’t kidding; the numbers of their latest record were incredible. And each climb of the rank meant more money in their pockets, more fame. More sold-out shows. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and swiveled on the bar stool to seek out his band members. They were scattered and dotted within the crowd of music executives and other artists who’d been invited to Burt’s weekend party. There were more women here than men—go figure—all scantily clad in short skirts and tight tops that left little to the imagination. Burt was a hell of a manager, but he had been married four times and had a bit of an addiction to the ladies.

No wonder he had purchased this sprawling property in the Illinois countryside, the mini-mansion surrounded by trees and birds and shit, and about as far from prying eyes as you could get. You could do anything out here, and no one on the outside would know.

“This is perfect timing for the tour,” Trevor said. He took a shot of whiskey and slid the glass toward the bartender for another. The outside bar set up was pretty nice. Overhead lights strung in relaxed loops over their heads, a massive grill on the side being tended by a caterer who made BBQ look easy, while two bartenders worked behind an impressive, custom-made brick bar with shiny metal top. “What’s our next step?”

Burt raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“To keep this ball rolling. What do we do now?”

“You go on tour, son. There isn’t anything else that will drive this record any farther.”

Trevor turned to face Burt. “Yes, there is. Remember we talked about getting our music in front of movie producers?”

Burt waved him off with a low chuckle. Heat rose along Trevor’s hairline. Being dismissed never sat well with him. Too often growing up, he had been told his ideas were dumb, that his thoughts and plans had no merit. Fuck that.

“Well, I want you to do it.” Trevor caught the older man’s eyes. “I pay you to make things happen. Make this happen. Tell me one time that having a prominent song in a blockbuster movie wasn’t a good thing.”

Burt slid off his stool and signaled for another beer. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Trev. Let the tour do the work for you.”

“Why? So, you don’t have to do it? What’s going on Burt? You’ve been sidestepping my ideas for months now.”

Burt’s eyes narrowed as their eyes held. Trevor stood, raising his chin. The older man had been acting funny lately, nothing specific, but his demeanor had been off.

“Damn, the crickets are louder out here than in the city.” Colton staggered up to them. He gave them both a glance, then leaned his back against the bar with his elbows on top. “What’s up with you two?”

“I was just telling Burt how much I love the country.” Trevor made no attempt to keep the tension from his voice.

“I kind of like it out here,” Colton admitted.

“Yeah.” Trevor nodded and took a swig of beer. “It’s fucking peaceful.”

Burt looked away, and satisfaction welled in Trevor. That’s right, old man, back the fuck down. He raised his drink in mock salute. “Let me know what you find out, Burt.”

Burt gave a small shake of his head.

“About what?” Colton raised his brows.

“Getting our music in front of movie producers.”

Roman and Lucas appeared. “What are we talking about?”

Burt excused himself, leaving tension in his wake.

“What’s going on?” Lucas frowned.

“Just reminding Burt he works for us, that’s all.”

Trevor didn’t meet his friend’s eyes, nor did he offer up anything else. He was putting the topic to bed for now. There was a party going on, with a buffet of beautiful women swaying and twisting beneath the party lights on the outside dancefloor. He had better things to be doing with his time.

A static sound burst through the air, pulling their attention to the stage beside the pool. Burt was there, mic in hand. The smile on his face was devoid of any remnant of the argument he and Trevor had had.

“Everyone having a good time?” He raised his glass to a cheering crowd. “Thank you all for coming to what’s turned into a yearly soiree. This year, we've got an added reason to celebrate as I’m happy to announce the kick off to Infinity Prism’s first US tour!”

The crowd went nuts again, eyes turning to look at the group of them. Burt signaled, and a rush of adrenaline went through Trevor as he sauntered through the crowd. It was time to give them a taste of what was to come. These people, music people, promoters, advertisers were going to get a full taste of Infinity’s power.

The band assembled on stage, Trevor taking the mic. He should say a few words, but why? Music always spoke better than he ever could. He cued the band, and the chords overwhelmed him, morphing him into his rock star persona. Cupping the mic between his palms, he edged the stage and started to sing. Time narrowed down until it disappeared completely. It was just him, the sound, and the crowd. The mass of people jamming beneath the overhead lights, their eyes riveted on him.

He was three songs in about to spin away when movement caught his eye. A woman pushed her way almost to the front. She was singing every word right in time with him, her curvy body moving to the beat as she pushed forward. A glittery top hugged her full breasts, the bottom loose and swaying around her toned middle. Full hips rocked a black leather skirt. He couldn’t see her feet, but he bet she wore spiked heels. Fuck, he hoped she did. Long auburn hair, plump, bright red lips and pale skin that looked sheer and perfect beneath the high/low glow of stage lights. He stuttered mid-line, frowning at the sound. He never stumbled over a performance.

Pulling his eyes away from the distraction, he finished the song and immediately sought her out again. She was still there, clapping and cheering. Her eyes flicked to his, caught across the space between them. Trevor’s heart flipped, and he went completely still. The tune of their next song played behind him, but he couldn’t jump into the intro.

She looked familiar. Really familiar.

Colton slammed on the drums, the band replaying the intro—waiting for him.

How the hell did he know her, and why couldn’t he look away?

Damn it! He pulled himself away and jumped into the song too late. Missing a vocal to catch up, he found his place and avoided that devil woman for the rest of the performance. He didn’t look, but she was there with her eyes on him. Her gorgeous face right there in his memory, somewhere in his past.

He shook it off and time melted away again until they were done. And the lights faded, and the music stopped, and Trevor found himself heaving for breath, standing in the middle of the stage with the mic tight in his hand.

Burt took the mic from him, said some stuff Trevor couldn’t process. He was numb, his mind, his body. This always happened after their set was complete. As if he couldn’t recover from the shock of performing back into his other self.

“Ready to drink yourself to death?” Roman clapped a hand on his shoulder and urged him down. He was the only one who knew about the strange post-performance paralysis or whatever this was. Roman said it was because Trevor was still struggling with guilt over their success. That his mind couldn’t fully process that he deserved to have all this.

Maybe he was right.

Because the guilt was back right now. Hard. Really, fucking hard. It started to creep up when he saw that woman, and now here it was, in full bloom inside his chest.

“Trevor?”

“Drink! Damn, man, that was awesome.”

“You missed the intro like three times. What gives?”

“Trevor?”

He snapped to attention. Colton was on one side of him, Roman on the other, both way too close for comfort. He shrugged them both off and went for a drink. A small group of women walked his way pointedly, and he diverted them. He would come around to the female attention in a minute. Right now, he needed to get his head on straight.

“You don’t want boobs in your face tonight, or what?”

He glanced a look at Roman, who followed close behind.

“Later.”

“You gotta stop being weirded out by chicks wanting you, bro.”

Trevor made a dismissive sound. Being lusted after didn’t bother him one bit. Bring. It. On. “I’m not weirded out. I’m selective.”

Roman playfully nudged him. “Hot chicks are drooling on themselves, begging to get in your pants.”

“Well, it’s a far cry from where I started,” Trevor confessed.

A knowing look glazed over Roman’s expression. His blonde mop of unruly curls flopped in his eyes. He brushed his hair back, and a knowing look passed between them. Trevor didn’t have to explain himself.  Roman knew he was referring to his troubled childhood with abusive parents, eventually moving in with Roman’s family in middle school.

This crazy new lifestyle was all new to all of them, but especially to Trevor. His adrenaline flowed every time someone recognized him on the street. He really loved it when he walked through a crowded party or bar, and people stared at him in awe, whispering as he walked past.

At the same time, he didn’t want fame and fortune to change who he was inside. He did his best to keep himself in check and remember where he came from.

“I’m going to hit the head.” Trevor turned toward the house, cutting through people who tried to get his attention, but he pushed through.

“Oh my God its really him!” A red-haired girl squeaked.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” her friend gawked as Trevor appeased them with a wink as he passed.

He hopped up the step onto the patio, turning toward the sound of a man’s angry voice. A woman responded in hushed tones, but the waver in her voice said she was scared. He had a passing thought of keeping on walking, but he wasn’t one to leave a woman to her fear.

Following the voices, he found himself on another small patio on the side of the house. A woman leaned against the wall of the house, a man trapping her in with an arm on either side of her. Trevor stayed in the shadows, curious if they simply had a lover’s argument or if more was going on here.

“What are you talking about?” The woman hissed defensively and threw her hands up in the air with frustration. “You’re acting like a total ass right now.”

The man growled and slapped his hand against the wall.

“You don’t think I didn’t see you? You practically had a damn orgasm watching that guy sing!”

Trevor sighed. Oh, God. This wasn’t something he wanted to be part of. He took a step back, but the man’s hand suddenly snaked out and wrapped around the woman’s throat. Her hands flew to his, pulling him off.

“What are you doing? Get off me, Grant!” She shoved, but the man didn’t move. “Move, right now.”

“Is this who you’ve been thinking about all this time? No wonder you’ve been so damn happy since I got this contract, you dumb—”

Enough. Trevor stepped forward. “Everything okay, here?”

“Fuck off.”

“I don’t think so.”

The man spun, and from this angle, Trevor got a good look at him in the yard lights. He was shorter, hair close cut military style, eyes severe. Suddenly the man’s face changed, a smile cutting across his thin lips. He came forward, hand outstretched.

“Hey, Trevor. Sorry about that. She’s just being; she’s just— I’m Grant from Shark Productions. Happy to be working with you.”

Trevor didn’t take the man’s hand, but when Grant thrust it forward again, he gave a quick, firm shake. Burt had mentioned he’d be introducing Shark Production tonight, but they’d been late to the point he didn’t think they’d show. Trevor had worried a bit that they’d ghost on the contract and they’d be back to square one without help. But now that he had witnessed Grant’s personal nature, he almost wished the man had ghosted.

Trevor slipped the tips of his fingers in his front pockets. “Why don’t you go find Burt, and we’ll talk contract.”

“Absolutely!” Grant gave an eager nod. “Hey, great set tonight. You guys sounded great!” He hurried off without a backward glance to the woman who was still by the wall, her arms crossed.

She was partially covered by shadow.

“Hey,” Trevor called, not wanting to approach and spook her. “You okay?”

She gave a soft breath and came toward him, peeling the label from her beer as if not wanting to meet his eyes.

His chest squeezed. It was the woman from the crowd. He swept a gaze over her, drinking her in as the blast of familiarity came rushing back. Shit, she was wearing spiked heels.

“None of your damn business.” Her tone wasn’t nearly as aggressive as her words. She was embarrassed, and he didn’t blame her. When she moved past him, he was inclined to follow her but stopped himself.

“Look at me.” The command slipped out of his lips.

“Get lost.”

“I said, look at me.”

She paused, turned slowly with a furrowed brow.

“Seriously?” The hard mask of her expression softened as their eyes caught.

“What’s your name?” He had to know. It was driving him mad. The lushness of her body, the curve of her waist fucking delicious. That pale, perfect skin. A slight smile crossed her lips, her lashes lowering. But then she looked and caught his eyes and bore into his soul.

“Emelia.”

With that, she turned and left, ignoring Roman’s greeting as he passed her. Roman did a double take at her, then another.

“Holy shit,” he said as he came to stand beside Trevor. “I don’t believe it’s her.”

Her.

Emelia.

“What do you mean?”

Roman’s mouth gaped with an exaggerated expression. “Remember that group of girls that crushed on you so hard when you first transferred to North Central High? Their “ringleader,” the one that did all the band write-ups in the school paper, and showed up everywhere you sang?”

“Kind of.”

“Dude, it’s Dumpling. Emelia Green. You know, “Dumpling?”

A sickening heat rushed up Trevor’s entire body. He wavered on his feet, caught himself. Couldn’t be. Dumpling had been blonde, and heavier. And shorter? Roman continued on.

“Her brother is the one who was—”

“Okay. Yeah, I remember her.” Shut up, shut up, shut up. He had to get out of here.

“Dudddddee, she looks good!”

The flash of headlights. The screech of a car careening out of control. Trevor took large strides towards the house, blocking it out.

She looked good. Real good. If he was smart, he would stay out of her way and never lay eyes on her again.