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  I scowled in confusion. “A closing act?”

  She nodded. “A little unusual, true. But if we could bookend your show with two complimentary but non-rival acts, it would still make the fans feel like they got more than their money’s worth, while lightening the load on you for every show.”

  “But…who in the world can we get this soon? The tour’s in just a couple of months.”

  “I’ve got some possibilities in mind. Let me call their managers and see what their schedules are like.”

  I managed a smile for her. “Thank you, Roz. You’re the best.”

  “I know. That’s why you hired me.” She flashed me a grin just before the elevator door dinged open, revealing a crowd of eager paparazzi outside the lobby’s front glass wall. All waiting for me, thanks to Mom being discovered at yet another rehab clinic a few days ago.

  “Oh, and Roz?”

  She was already whipping out her phone to start making calls.

  “Nobody gets to know about the lupus. And I mean nobody. Okay?”

  Her eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t argue, nodding while she began to dial a number.

  Meanwhile, I braced myself for the mini battle of getting through the rabid paparazzi to my driver and car at the curb without revealing anything beyond my smile.

  CHAPTER 2

  Sabrina

  Roz was, as usual, good as gold on her promise. She found me a handful of potential opening and closing acts to bookend my shows while on tour, at least for the American half’s first three months. The overseas shows might be tougher, as not many of the possible acts were able to carve out an additional three months from their schedules at such short notice. Already we were looking at asking many of them to interrupt their recording schedules, not to mention their regular daily lives. In order to find acts at this late stage, we were also having to consider artists and bands that were still on the early rise within the industry.

  Roz came over to my hotel suite two weeks later where we narrowed down the options to a solo acoustic-style redheaded guy named Jessie Quinn for the opening act, and a very pop-style band called the Vision Drakes, who had a powerhouse of a lead singer named Shane Reynolds on stage who would make for a very exciting closing act.

  Roz said she would set up some times for me to Skype with them and see what their personalities were like.

  ***

  “Hi Jessie,” I greeted the redhead on my laptop screen as I sat perched on the edge of my hotel suite’s sofa.

  “Hey, nice to meet you finally, Sabrina,” he replied with a shy grin that did something funny to my heart. “Thanks for taking the time to do this.”

  I smiled, clasping my hands between my knees. “It’s no problem. It’s really just a formality, I guess. I just wanted to kind of meet you and make sure our personalities would mesh okay for a few months. Did Roz and your manager explain what we’re looking for?”

  “Yeah. You’re in need of an opener for three months here in America?”

  “Here? You’re state side?”

  He nodded, leaning back on what looked like a brown corduroy upholstered couch, allowing me to see him from head to knees. Everything below that was hidden by a scarred-up coffee table, which judging by the angle was probably also holding his laptop. “My manager wanted me to develop an American audience over here. So I’ve been staying in L.A. for the last couple of months.”

  “Interesting.” My back muscles started to protest the lack of support, so I leaned back on the sofa, working not to wince as my hips zinged out a quick complaint of their own. I cleared my throat. “So how does your schedule look in the weeks before the tour would start?” At his raised eyebrows, nearly missed beneath the flop of his shaggy red hair, I explained, “I had this idea that maybe we could smooth the transition between the acts by doing a duet from one of your songs. But we’d need a little practice time before hitting the road so I don’t screw it up.”

  He grinned, making my own smile automatically widen in return. “Nice idea. Of course, we could do one of your songs instead if you’d rather. I’m sure you’re already going to be running around like crazy prepping for the tour as it is. I’ve got less to do, so it might be easier for me to learn a new song instead.”

  Oh. That was nice of him. I felt my eyebrows shoot up and my lips parted before I regained control over my expression. “That’s really nice of you to offer. Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”

  He was quick to shake his head. “Nah. I’m always working on new stuff anyway. So learning one of yours won’t be much different.”

  A silence fell between us, and I was surprised at how comfortable it was. Usually people got really awkward when I ran out of things to say.

  Finally, I smiled. “Okay then. I’ll have my manager send yours the paperwork and music for a few songs of mine that might work—”

  “Like maybe ‘Hearts on Fire’?” he suggested, his boyish face turning hopeful, making him look like a kid asking for ice cream. “Or how about ‘Killing With Kindness’? Or maybe ‘Don’t Call Me Baby’ instead?”

  Again, I felt my eyebrows shoot up. “I see you’ve done a little research on me.”

  This time, his grin was slow in forming. “Well, you are the Princess of Pop. And this is a big opportunity for me. I’d be an idiot not to do at least a little research.”

  I was impressed and didn’t mind my expression showing it. “Any of those might work pretty well. ‘Killing With Kindness’ is a little older than what my record label wanted me to promote this tour. But ‘Hearts on Fire’ or ‘Don’t Call Me Baby’ could work. I’ll send you the music for both and let you decide which one you feel works best for your vocal range.”

  He blinked rapidly several times. Finally he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his spread knees and loosely clasping his hands in between.

  “What?” I asked, wondering what I’d missed and why he was staring at me.

  He gave a slow shake of his head. “For a princess, you’re awfully easy to please.”

  For some reason, his choice of words sent a ripple of excitement up my spine and over my skin, and I licked my lower lip. “You say that now. But you haven’t seen me working yet. I can get…picky.”

  “Mmm, more like hard working from what I’ve heard,” was his quick reply. “I’ve asked around and heard nothing but good things about you.”

  Now why would that compliment make me feel so good? I didn’t even know this guy.

  Still, it was all too easy to smile. “Same here.” I hesitated, then took the risk and typed in the chat window. “I’m sending you my personal number. Call it if you have any questions. And Roz will get the music to you for the possible duets and work out some times we might be able to meet up and practice.”

  He immediately started copying the phone number into his phone. Then my phone rang, and his eyebrows flicked up as he grinned.

  He was calling me.

  I answered my phone, keeping my gaze on him on my laptop screen. “That was awfully quick.”

  “Swear I won’t be one of those needy types. Just wanted you to have my number too. You know, in case.”

  I returned his grin with one of my own. “Good idea.” Hearing his smooth voice right in my ear was different from hearing him through my laptop speakers. More…intimate somehow. My pulse kicked up in response.

  “So…see you soon?” he murmured. “You know, to practice that duet?”

  Hmm. Now why did this feel like I was getting asked out on a date instead of scheduling something for work? “Sounds good.”

  I knew I should hang up both my phone and end the Skype call. But for some crazy reason, I was tempted to keep the connections going. He was too easy to talk with and he made me smile too easily. And it felt like forever since I’d had a reason to really smile like this.

  Work. Business. This was supposed to be a strictly business-only discussion.

  I looked down at my lap and had to resist the urge to sigh. “I should go.”

 
; “Right. Nice to meet you, Princess.”

  I shifted on the couch, usually hating the media’s nickname for me, but for some odd reason not minding it so much when Jessie said it. Like it was becoming an inside joke between us. But the physical movement sent another twinge of pain, this time through my left knee. Stupid body.

  When I glanced back up at the laptop screen, Jessie was watching me carefully, all hint of that easygoing smile gone. “Everything okay?”

  Damn. I must have cringed from the pain or something. I pasted on a smile. “Sure. Just feeling all the extra cardio training for the tour. Thanks for meeting with me, Jessie. I look forward to our practice session.” Great. Now why had I said that?

  No, that was professional politeness. Wasn’t it?

  “Right. See you then, Sabrina.”

  He ended the call. But he made no move to end the Skype connection, just sitting there watching me with this odd look of curiosity dancing in those blue eyes.

  Biting my lower lip, I leaned forward, shot him one last smile, then ended the Skype connection.

  And immediately texted my best friend, Daniella Love, a fellow pop rock artist. We’d met and become besties early in our careers when the Briar Rose record label signed us both on around the same time, then paired us up for an American tour one summer. Though we didn’t get to see each other nearly enough now that both our careers had taken off, we still stayed in near daily touch through texting and the occasional phone call when we could manage it.

  She was the second person, after Roz, to learn about my lupus diagnosis and knew what we were trying to do in adding on two bookend acts to my American tour now.

  Oh holy hell, Dani! I texted her. Just finished talking with my new opener Jessie Quinn. He is freakin HOT!

  She quickly texted back:

  LOL! I know. Saw him at a music fest last summer. Watch out though. Rumor has it he’s smooth with the moves. Managed to hook up with nearly every single dancer on Catty Kelly’s tour through Ireland last year.

  Catty Kelly… Immediately my good mood plummeted as I thought of the music artist the media loved to tout as my sworn enemy. I hesitated then texted:

  And Catty K too?

  She replied:

  Nope. Word has it he wouldn’t touch that mess.

  Against my will, my lips curved into a slow smile as I texted back:

  Smart man. Liking him more and more by the second.

  She replied:

  LOL. I know. But srsly, be careful, k? That shy boy act might or might not be the real deal. Specially if he’s that good with the hookups. And with your diagnosis, you might be vulnerable right now.

  I frowned at my phone, curling up into the corner of my sofa. She had a point, as usual. After a couple of minutes, I texted back:

  Good advice. You know me too well.

  Just don’t want to see my girl hurt, Dani texted back. Love you.

  Lu2, I texted back before sighing.

  It seemed my life might have just gotten a little more complicated. First the lupus, then the additional acts and changes to my shows’ choreography…

  And now apparently I’d just added a seriously dangerous player to the mix.

  Good thing I was pretty careful about who I dated. I would just need to remember to keep things strictly professional with Jessie. It would only be for three months, too. How much trouble could I possibly get into in that short a time with someone like him?

  ***

  The Skype meeting the next morning with the Vision Drakes wasn’t quite so great.

  The entire band had gathered together on their end to meet with me, each one sitting on what looked like bar stools in some kind of industrial loft-style apartment. They were quiet, respectful, and nervous, if their fidgeting was any true hint.

  The lead singer, Shane Reynolds, was the most uptight one of them all, which really surprised me considering how explosive his energy was on stage. Compared to the rest of his band, Shane looked pretty tall and lean. He wore his dark blond hair shaved close on the sides and long enough on top to pull back into a short ponytail, like a modern-day Viking.

  I’d figured he would be the typical lead singer type, extroverted, talkative, bossy, cocky. But Shane didn’t say anything at all, just sat perched tensely on his stool with those long legs cooped up on the stool’s rung beneath him, his hands clasped together on his lap, his knees bouncing. With nerves or pent up energy?

  It was hard to get a feel for any one personality among the Drakes. But they seemed open to the idea of doing a transitional duet, and their drummer suggested we make it a long acoustic version to give my band time to leave the stage and their band time to get setup on stage behind us.

  Unlike Jessie’s easygoing, happy-to-please offer to learn one of my songs, Shane finally spoke up to say he’d send me the music for one of the Drakes’ newer songs that could be modified into an acoustic duet fairly well. He didn’t ask for my opinion as to which of their songs I might like to perform with him, what vocal range I was comfortable with, or anything else for that matter.

  And it was his bassist who thanked me for inviting them on tour and today’s Skype meeting.

  We ended the call after only ten minutes, and when it was over, I had no better clue as to who the individual members of the Vision Drakes were than before the meeting.

  I was tempted to call Roz and tell her to find us a different closing act.

  But I watched one of their live performance recordings on YouTube again. And once again, I found myself nodding along with the song. Their music was good. So was their performance style. Maybe they were just nervous during the meeting, or uncomfortable in business meetings in general?

  Finally, after a lot of internal debate, I decided to follow my instincts and sent a text to Roz to confirm the Vision Drakes for our closing act. It felt like a risk considering all the unknowns in the personality mix area. But I was a professional. And as long as they were too, it would probably turn out fine.

  CHAPTER 3

  Sabrina

  Over the next month and a half, preparations for the tour escalated rapidly. After seven years, I was used to it.

  What I wasn’t used to was my traitorous body constantly throwing obstacle after obstacle in my path throughout the entire process. We’d started rehearsals with the band and backup dancers in a temporary warehouse space while the set and stage props were being built. But despite all my hard work training hour upon hour day after day throughout the year to stay in shape for this very reason, we soon found I still couldn’t handle anything near the level of cardio I was once used to.

  The choreographer had started modifying all my moves so I could focus most of my energy output on the singing, because I refused to lip sync. My fans weren’t coming to hear a recording of me. They were paying big bucks to hear me sing live. So if I had to compromise on the dance moves in order to sing better, then that’s what I would have to do.

  But I didn’t have to be happy about it. Especially after seeing the video clips the choreographer shot from his phone while I practiced.

  I looked like shit, at least compared to what I’d once been able to do. The choreographer, set designer, and Roz reassured me that we’d still be giving the fans their money’s worth.

  But it still pissed me off.

  Then it came down to the final week before the tour would begin, and time to start rehearsing the duets with Jamie and Shane.

  We scheduled two separate rehearsal sessions at my hotel suite since it was easier for them to slip past the paparazzi than I could. And because we would be doing acoustic versions, we didn’t need a band for backup, just their guitars.

  The first session was with Jessie. He showed up in worn jeans and a faded T-shirt, taller than I’d expected, forcing me to tilt my head back to look up at him and his battered black guitar case. He shot me another of his trademark shy smiles, and again I felt the answering ripple in my chest and stomach. I pushed those feelings aside, reminding myself that this was st
rictly business as I led him over to the seating area. He tried to make polite chitchat as we got settled in, and I answered him with only half my attention, the rest of my focus on hiding the fact that my body was once again aching from head to toe. Even my eyes hurt, dry and burning as if I’d been trapped for hours inside a smoky room somewhere.

  Settling into the couch as best as I could, I angled to face the armchair he’d chosen to sit in. I watched him take out his guitar and tune the strings. When he was ready, he looked up at me and gave me that boyish grin I was really, really starting to like.

  He showed me the sheet music Roz had sent him for “Don’t Call Me Baby,” which he’d marked up with illegible handwritten notes. He explained his ideas for how to mesh our two vocal ranges and where we could take turns with the lyrics with just a few word changes to make the song work as a duet with a slower, more bluesy kind of beat to make it more romantic and less of a breakup song.

  Then we dove in. I found if I closed my eyes, I could forget everything…my aching body, the room we were in, the lack of an audience. I could envision us sitting on a couple of barstools on stage together performing this. At first, we sang quietly, just getting used to the song and each other’s voices, learning how to harmonize, trying little note changes here and there. It was like dancing with a new partner.

  Or kissing for the first time.

  When that thought popped into my mind, it surprised me so much my eyes opened, only to find Jessie’s blue-eyed gaze trained on me, a small smile dancing around his lips while he sang. And instantly I felt awkward again in a way that I never felt while performing on stage.

  Because this was so much more intimate. Just the two of us singing a love song together to the soft notes he strummed from his guitar. He was my only audience. My only judge for the moment.