“No, I want you to stay all day, but I was gonna wait and pitch that over mimosas.”

  Her cheeks burn red. “All day?” she repeats.

  I cup her face, drawing the subtle line of her cheekbones with my thumbs. “All day,” I whisper.

  All day. All night.

  Forever, maybe.

  “Okay,” Harmony says, her eyes bright and shiny once again. “I’ll stay.”

  I kiss her, soft and sweet, as I slowly push my hands into her robe. I wrap my arms around her, happily cupping her bare ass as I pull her against me, lifting her a few inches off the floor.

  Harmony chuckles and kisses me back, helplessly clinging to me as I carry her back to the bed.

  I wish — I could — keep you.

  11

  HARMONY

  Now

  Arockstar’s job doesn’t end at the encore.

  It does for some, I suppose. For artists who don’t care to interact with fans, they rush through the backstage exit and directly onto their tour bus, eager to get far away fast.

  But for Criminal Records, the show is only the beginning.

  After is when the work really begins.

  After a show, that’s when fans become super fans and Criminal Records loves their fans. They don’t leave the venue until they’ve taken every selfie, signed every picture or piece of merch that gets waved in front of them. And they love every moment.

  Even Bronson is all laughter and smiles as he takes photos. A few ladies dare to whisper in his ear, and even fewer are lucky enough to get a reply, their jaws dropping as his words tickle their earlobes. I’ve always had a hunch that Bronson’s dirty talk was legendary, but of course, I have no way of proving so.

  After a few hours, Pam flashes the lights above the bar, giving everyone the signal that they’re closing up for the night.

  Marla and I watch from the side as the band heads toward Pam. They shower her in hugs and well wishes and promises to be back soon. The few remaining fans break away and start heading toward the exit.

  A young woman sneaks away from her friends and shuffles over to me and Marla. She’s dressed in black with thick eye shadow and red lipstick; obviously deep in her goth era, but she wears it well. “Hi,” she says nervously.

  “Hello!” Marla greets her as I give her a wave.

  “Hi. I’m Dierdre.”

  “Hi, Dierdre. Did you enjoy the show?”

  “Oh, it was awesome! Love me some Criminal Records. Real sorry, I don’t mean to bother you guys or nothing, but...” Dierdre looks at me, her grin digging deeper. “I just wanted to tell you how much I love Boom Boom.”

  I blink in surprise. “Really?”

  “It’s our new pump song!” she says. “I mean, you know, the song we play to pump ourselves up. We had it on repeat the whole drive out here. It’s so good!”

  “Oh...” I stutter my words, the moment so wonderfully unexpected. “Th-thank you. Thank you so much! Where, uh... where are you and your friends from?”

  “Flagstaff.”

  “Was it a long drive?”

  “Few hours or so,” the girl says with a shrug. “But always worth it to see CR at the Sin and Sand.”

  “Very true,” I agree.

  “Well, I gotta run. It was nice to meet you!”

  “You, too!”

  “Bye!”

  She runs off to join her friends outside, taking a sizeable chunk of my heart along with her.

  “Holy crap,” I whisper.

  Marla pats my shoulder. “Look at you!” she says.

  “What?”

  “Was that you first awkward fan encounter?”

  “Yeah. It was.”

  I grin, realizing it. I have fans. I have fans! Real fans! People who recognize me from my music and not for being Knox’s crazy ex-girlfriend.

  “Oh, dammit!” I twinge with regret. “Should I have asked to sign something for her? A breast or something?”

  Marla chuckles. “Maybe offer a selfie instead?”

  “Right. Selfies. That’s, yeah...” I nod, then sigh. “That’s smarter.”

  Marla hooks her arm around my shoulder, drawing me in for a friendly half-embrace. Not one you’d expect from someone you only met a few hours ago, but Marla’s just one of those people who can get away with it with ease.

  “Shake it off, Harmony,” she says. “You’ll get plenty more practice over the next three months.”

  I smile. “Right.”

  And I can’t fucking wait.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I follow Chrissy’s voice across the bar. She’s walking out of the backstage area with Jordan by her side, beelining toward the back of the bar, her eyes laser-focused. I follow her gaze toward a woman standing near the back wearing a yellow shirt with long, flowing hair and… hey, wait a second.

  I perform a double-take. That’s the woman I waved at before, the one I thought was Chrissy. I look at her now, and… it still looks like her. Their faces are identical.

  Twins?

  As Chrissy approaches, the other Chrissy quickly puts her phone away, her face locked in a teasing grin. From this distance, I can’t hear them, but Chrissy is clearly upset.

  I walk over.

  “—don’t know what you’re implying,” I hear the other Chrissy say as I wander within earshot. “I’m just here to enjoy the show.”

  “Bullshit,” Chrissy says, taking me by surprise. First time I’ve heard her swear. “What are you doing here, Prissy?”

  Prissy?

  “Oh, calm down, sister,” the woman says, smiling. “I’m just standing here. Is that a crime?”

  “You can’t be here.”

  “I paid my way in just like everyone else.”

  Chrissy releases a frustrated breath. “Leave. Now.”

  “All right. I’ll go.” As she turns, her eyes land on me and her smile digs deeper. “I got what I needed, anyway.”

  She leaves, squeezing out the front entrance with the rest of the lingering crowd.

  “Chrissy,” I say, getting her attention. “Are you okay? Who was that?”

  Chrissy sighs, still clearly upset. “That was my sister, Priscilla.”

  “I saw her earlier. I thought it was you, but…”

  “Yeah, that’s the downside to being a twin — and a really awful one to being her twin.”

  “Some bad blood between you guys, huh?”

  “It’s a long story, but she and I have never really gotten along. She’s very competitive and a little… unstable.”

  “Yikes.”

  Chrissy bites her cheek. She leans in closer and lowers her voice. “I can’t prove it, but I’m pretty sure she’s the reason why Cobraville…”

  Broke up.

  Even I know not to say that part out loud.

  “How?” I ask, curious.

  Chrissy doesn’t answer. She just shrugs it off. “It’s a long story,” she just says again.

  I nod, knowing to let it go.

  A moment later, Knox approaches us, breaking off from the rest of the band. He hovers next to my shoulder, but stays a few inches away, his body language tight.

  I flash my best girlfriend smile. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he says.

  “We all heading back to the hotel?” Chrissy asks.

  “Yes, please,” I say, long past tired.

  “You guys are staying at the Plaza?” Knox asks, as if that’s surprising.

  “Of course,” I answer.

  He doesn’t reply. He just nods.

  Chrissy smiles as she steps back. “I’ll make sure Big Pink makes it home if you want to ride with Knox,” she says.

  “You’re sure?” I ask.

  “Someone has to keep Barry company.”

  I nod. “I’ll catch up with you later, then.”

  Chrissy gives us a wave and leaves us to… stand and stare at each other some more.

  We need to do something about this.

  “Big Pink?” Knox asks.

  “My bus,” I say.

  “Ah.”

  “To the hotel?”

  He clears his throat. “To the hotel.”

  I smile, my veins still buzzing from that fan encounter. It’s a good feeling. A happy feeling.

  And I don’t want it to end.

  12

  KNOX

  “Early rise!” Jordan says, her pen furiously scribbling on her clipboard as she speaks. “I mean it,” she adds with a glare at each of us. “This bus rolls out at eight. If you’re not on it, you find your own way to LA.”

  “You find your own way,” Jonah sings, prompting Bronson to drum a beat on his table, and I chime in with him to finish, “to LA!”

  Jordan glares as we laugh.

  “On the bus by eight,” I repeat, to put her at ease. “We hear you, Jordan.”

  “Before eight,” she says. “We leave at eight sharp. It’s almost eleven right now.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “That gives you only nine hours of rest. Eight if you actually get on the bus on time — and you will be here on time.”

  “I believe we know how time works.”

  Jordan’s arms go limp at her sides as she takes a deep breath.

  “We’ll be up,” Katrina says, firing a warning shot at me with her eyes. “Don’t worry.”

  “Yeah. Hey, Jordan,” Jonah says. “Can you schedule a wake up call to my phone?”

  She nods, offering a smile to him and Marla. “I’ll call all of you myself,” she says.

  “Thank you,” he says, his eyes a little more solemn now that he’s realized that he and Marla only have a few precious hours left together. He kisses above her ear and she smiles.

  The next time they see each other, it’ll be their wedding day.

  Wild.

  “They’re so cute.”

  I flinch. I’ve known this whole time Harmony was sitting behind me. Just... not used to hearing her voice so close to my ear like that.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “She manages the hotel, right?”

  I nod. “Well, she will soon. She’s in training right now. But she’s replacing Oliver in a few months. Do you remember Oli?”

  “I remember Oli.”

  “Right. Couldn’t remember if you two met.”

  “We did. Once.”

  “Oh, well, then yeah. She’s replacing him as building manager.”

  “Damn.” She nods, impressed. “What a girl boss.”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, she’s pretty great.”

  I glance back.

  Huge mistake.

  She’s... here. Right here. Her lips, shiny with a recent coat of gloss, are right here.

  Harmony looks at me, those pretty lips curling, those bright eyes locking with mine. “What?” she asks with a whisper.

  “Uh... your breath stinks,” I say, twisting forward.

  “Dick,” I hear her murmur as she plops back in her seat.

  “Hey, Moondog,” I say to Harvey Moon, sitting near the front with August. “You guys riding with us?”

  “Yup. Nine sharp, right?” Harvey says, an obvious dig at Jordan.

  “That’s right!” I say, going along with it. “Nine sharp!”

  Jordan growls softly as the rest of us laugh.

  We arrive at the hotel. Our driver Mac temporarily idles in the circle drive near the front, letting us hop off before taking it the rest of the way. One-by-one, we all say goodnight to the best damn bus driver in the business.

  “Nighty-night, Mac,” Harmony says, smiling at him.

  “Hey, you have a good one, Harmony,” he replies with a big grin, happy to see her again. I guess a huge perk of his job is the front-row seat he gets to all of our drama. Harmony joining us again is probably the best news he’s heard in weeks.

  Jonah drapes his arm around Marla. “I’ll see you in the morning, guys,” he says to us.

  “Goodnight!” we all say as the two of them immediately head inside.

  They really are cute, though.

  I take a step toward the entrance and Harmony hooks my arm.

  “Wait,” she says, her hands coming to my sides. “We have an audience.”

  My skin crawls beneath her touch. I try not to grimace. “Where?” I ask.

  “Four o’clock.”

  “Mine or yours?”

  “Yours.”

  I discreetly glance in that direction, but… “There’s no one there,” I say.

  “Shit. Sorry. I meant eight. By the fountain.”

  “For fuck’s sake. Why not just say that?”

  “I said sorry.”

  “You do know how to tell time, right?”

  “They’ve had their phones out since the bus parked,” she says, ignoring me. “Two of them. I remember them from the bar.”

  “Okay. So?”

  “So… we should give them a show, right?” she says. “That’s why we’re here, right?”

  “I’m here to play music, actually.”

  She glares through squinting eyes. “Okay, just…” She shifts to stand beside me, guiding my arm to rest along the back of her shoulders. “Let’s walk inside.” Her voice drops to a sultry whisper. “And pretend we like each other.”

  “Okay…” I say, stepping forward with her.

  I look down, trying to match our strides, but we’re so out of sync. She nearly trips twice and I accidentally kick my own shins a few times.

  “Touch me.” She tugs at my hand over her shoulder. “You don’t have to do the hover thing.”

  My fingers recoil from her skin. “I’m not doing the hover thing.”

  “Yes, you are. And walk like a normal person. You look like Bambi when he learned to stand up for the first time.”

  “I would if you’d walk in a straight line. Are you drunk?”

  She sighs with annoyance. “It’s these shoes! I haven’t broken them in yet and the edge is digging into my ankle.”

  “Fashion is pain, baby.”

  “Maybe we should just hold hands.”

  I take my arm back. “Works for me.”

  Harmony grabs my hand and I instinctively flinch out of her grasp first before succumbing to the warm embrace of her fingers. She tries to entwine them, but I pinch mine together, opting for a normal hold instead.

  With a sigh, she stops trying, and we continue our walk into the front entrance of the hotel. Just like she said, there are some Criminal Records fans at the fountain, gasping and recording our every move. Possibly live streaming the whole damn thing.

  At the doors, Harmony turns to face me. “Kiss me,” she whispers.

  “Why?”

  “Because we want to go viral, don’t we?”

  “Do we?”

  Harmony smiles prettily, her face bleeding warmth while her eyes pierce sharply. “Knox,” she says through her teeth. “Just fucking kiss me.”

  I lean down and bump my lips against the edge of her cheek. “Okay, all done,” I say before plowing through the entrance.

  Harmony stays with me, her hand still clenched on mine. In the lobby, we run into Katrina and Addison, their noses screwed up with confusion.

  “What?” I snap at them.

  “Nothing,” Addison says, her eyes full of judgment. “You guys wanna get a drink?”

  “Sure,” Harmony replies for us, giving my hand a little tug.

  I look at her; her face still locked with a cheerful smile. I flash her one of my own and we continue our trek through the lobby together.

  Hand-in-hand.

  Oh-so-fucking-happy to be here.

  The bar is still open, but in the middle of a late night lull by the looks of it. Fine by me. The less pretending I have to do, the better.

  Doc the bartender looks up as we approach, and he instantly smirks. “Well, well, well…” he says, his handsome eyes darting right past Addison and Katrina and landing on me and Harmony. “So, the rumors are true.”

  Harmony releases my hand and giggles as she leans over the bar. “They sure are,” she says. “How are you, Doc?”

  “Ordinary day, but my night just got a lot sweeter,” he says, returning the same flirtatious bat of the eyes. “Strawberry daiquiri, right?”

  “Good memory. Yes, please.”

  My stomach grips.

  As if he felt it himself, Doc looks at me and straightens out, but his smirk remains. “What else can I get you folks?” he asks.

  “I’ll take a daiquiri, too,” Katrina says.

  Doc nods at Addison. “You too, honey?”

  She scoffs at him. “A pint of the darkest stuff you have on tap.”

  “Same,” I say. “Charge it all to my room.”

  Doc steps back to get it done. “You got it, Knox.”

  The girls leave to join Bronson, already sitting at a booth near the back. I stay and wait for the drinks, using that as an excuse to get a little distance from Harmony for a few minutes.

  Ah, sweet silence.

  A song catches my ear. I look at a television mounted on the wall at the far side of the bar. It’s a rerun of tonight’s VRL, America’s most popular viral music talk show.

  Based out of Seattle, the show’s host, Tony Loudermilk, is a music industry legend — and a huge gossip, but who isn’t these days? A former record producer, he’s got an ear for it and almost always knows exactly who the next big thing is going to be before anyone else does. He booked us in our early days, for instance. Man just knows good music when he hears it.

  Tonight’s guest, however…

  Maybe the old man is losing his edge.

  The Electrics.

  They only have three members, but their sound is as big as ours is. Lead singer Logan Shock stands front and center on the VRL stage with a bright yellow electric guitar, his eyes coated with dark rings of eyeliner. His cheeks are thin, his face marked with high cheekbones that are partially hidden by colorful lightning bolt-shaped symbols sketched on his skin. His black jeans are torn, along with his yellow T-shirt — though that one seems purposefully slashed in places to reveal a nipple and a few toned abs. His darkish blond hair is about an inch too long, but clean-looking. He’s tall, too.

  Basic glam rock bastard.

  As if I didn’t already hate him enough.

  Logan harmonizes with a woman on his right side holding a bass guitar — which appears custom-made. She’s pretty, with pouty lips and a shroud of bright blue hair that covers half of her face.