Two days after the funeral and there is still a sour taste in my mouth. Amelia left again and is back to dodging my calls and ignoring York and me. My best friend won’t say it bothers him, but I have no problem being very vocal about how I feel about it, and like I told him, I don’t plan to sit still for another year. I followed his idea last time, and all it did was seem to push the wedge between Amelia and me farther apart, shoving her right into the arms of Rise Above’s leading man. All I’ve seen and read about the past two days is about the band’s quick success in the West Coast music scene. In every picture, Amelia is in the middle of Becks and Spyder and in every article, they attribute her to part of their success. Everyone is talking about them. Everyone is talking about Amelia ‘Rosen,’ and her connection to Allister Holdings and her woman-run record label.
I’m proud of her, while at the same time, I’m frustrated that I can’t share her success. She wants distance. She wants nothing to link her with the Allisters or the Knights. The way her face paled when those few reporters started asking questions is seared in my memory. Her hand fisted against me when she repeatedly tried to tug out of my grasp. I hadn’t cared and had wanted them to see us together, to draw conclusions that would force her to have to communicate with me in order to resolve the rumors.
“Mr. Knight,” Katie pokes her head into my office, her eyebrow arched, “I was able to secure those tickets for tonight, er…should I send one to your guest or…”
I wave her off. “Just send one to York. Tell him to meet me there.”
Her face relaxes, and the blush eases. Never in my career have I had to have my secretary buy tickets or gifts for a date with Carrigan. I always take care of my own personal business, but for some reason, anytime my card tried to check out with two tickets it was declined. “Okay, will do, Sir.”
She quickly scurries out, and I lean back in my office chair, my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose. It’s already six and the show starts at nine. I close my computer down and put my files back into the drawer before locking it. When I leave, I notice Katie is already gone and the rest of the staff are heading out as well. My phone vibrates, and it’s a text from York.
York: You really have to do this?
Me: You can thank me later.
I quickly hit send and pocket my phone again. With the rush-hour traffic, I already know I’m running out of time. We’ll probably barely make it to the door before the show starts, and it will be hard to get to her backstage, once they start playing. I’m hoping she’ll have one of the VIP boxes, but I can’t see Amelia wanting that attention on herself or being too far from the action. She’s too hands-on, and despite the way I used to feel about her, I know she isn’t all about using her money and connections.
With the traffic, it takes me two hours to get back to my home to change and another hour and a half to get downtown and battle against the pedestrians out walking around going to clubs and shows. I love the city-life, but sometimes, I miss the quieter hustle of a smaller town like Magnolia Hills. The streetlamps in the neighborhoods are a far cry from the neon flashing lights I see here.
York is waiting outside the club when I get to the door. I almost smirk because my best friend looks nervous, with his hands shoved into his jeans, while he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet and glances at his watch again.
“I thought you weren’t worried?” I ask him, and his head snaps in my direction.
“I thought we were giving her space.” He shrugs, but I don’t miss the narrowing of his brow.
“I gave her space. I gave her a year worth of space, and nothing has changed for me.” I shake my head. “I don’t expect you to be supportive right away.”
He blows out a breath and glances around. “I want her in my life too, whatever that looks like. I just don’t want to push her.”
“So don’t,” I tell him, “I’ll be the one to push her.”
York busts out a laugh. “Are you even sure you want her? This isn’t just some knee-jerk reaction because she moved on.”
“It’s not, York, I promise,” I reply, shaking my head. “But she deserves to hear my words first.”
He glances at me, his head tilted, and I can see a million things running through his gaze. He isn’t sure if he can trust me, and I don’t blame him. I’m responsible for the grave we’re lying in. I made him choose between friendship and family, and like the lonely, orphaned kids we were, we chose to stick together. After a few heartbeats, he nods his head and starts walking toward the doors. I already called ahead and was able to talk to the owner of the club, someone actually on my payroll, to get us on the list. There is a hyped-up energy the minute we step inside. Everywhere I look, it’s wall-to-wall bodies in the space that’s been converted to a dance floor, and an endless line at the bar.
“I’m surprised how popular they are in their first month here.” York leans into me. He practically has to yell for me to hear him over the chatter and the house music playing. I nod at him.
All the research I’ve done and the media posts I’ve looked at told me so, but to see it is something incredibly different. Amelia is making a name for herself in the music world and her musicians are in high demand. Somehow, I’ll have to see how I can bend those facts to my advantage, in order to convince her to spend time with me. There are no illusions on my part that tonight will go smoothly with me in her world, but one can hope.
The lights go out, and soon, only the stage is lit. A colorful array of neon and white lights dance across the crowd. Everyone begins cheering when the first melody drops.
Hold on to me, this is our shot.
I won’t leave you, let me show you all that I got.
You’ve been hurt, but if you trust me now, you can keep me.
I watch the man on stage, and I can feel his lyrics like a shot to the heart. For the first time, I realize we have the same feelings, and I’d put money on it, that a certain girl with pink hair is the cause of it. The only difference is that Amelia and I have a history — a childhood that was wrapped in sweet moments and teen years paved in pain.
With a silent nod to York, I move through the crowd and toward the backstage area. I recognize a couple of the bouncers on my way and tip my head at them. No one stops me, so I keep going. Eventually, I turn the corner, and soon, I’m stopped by another set of security guards. The red rose on the collar grabs my attention, and I smirk. Amelia took York’s notes seriously and hired her own security, not relying only on the club’s. Amelia doesn’t know it was York’s idea, but he told their grandfather to add it to her start-up list. Pride fills my heart, and I want nothing else than to see her.
“Excuse me!” I call to the man, and he lifts his head in acknowledgement.
“The band isn’t taking visitors,” he calls over the music.
“I’m not here for the band,” I shout back. He makes a gesture like he didn’t hear me and moves closer.
“Sorry, what did you say, man?”
“I’m not here for the band. I’m looking for Amelia,” I tell him.
He glances at me then back at the stage area. “Amelia?”
“Mia. Amelia Rosen,” I tell him, using the nickname that I never call her.
“Right, right. Ah, okay, let me go check and see if she wants visitors.” He turns and heads backstage. A whole song plays before I see her. She pauses and talks to the security guard before sauntering over to me. I can’t take my eyes off of her.
“He wants to talk to you, do you know him?” The Security guard looks at me then at her.
I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it. Her eyes widen, and she draws the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip. “No, I don’t know him. Make sure he gets back to the front of the club and call a bouncer if he causes any trouble and needs to be escorted off the premises.”
Amelia turns on her booted heel and heads backstage. Heat surges in my veins. She actually dared to pretend she didn’t know me. She’s the only one who truly knows me. Her determination not to let me get close only confirms what I’ve known: she isn’t over us. Amelia remembers our past and even if it’s painful, she hasn’t completely let go.
The security guy nods to me, and I take the hint and head back into the crowd. York is right where I left him, scrolling through his phone. His eyes jump up when I get close enough.
“How did it go?”
I laugh. “She blew me off.”
York smirks and pats me on the shoulder. “You deserve it.”
I know I do. I knew going after Amelia meant I had a lot to make up for. Her actions reflect the pain we put her through. Bodies sway around us as the band finishes up their first ballad of the night. Again, I’m impressed by them, and I hate it.
“How are you all feeling tonight?” Becks hollers into the microphone, and the crowd goes wild for him. He gives them his signature lopsided smile. “Who’s drinking tonight?” The cheers erupt. “Who’s getting fucking laid tonight?” And they all lose their shit.
York can’t even help the smile on his lips, and when I cut him a glance, he shrugs and holds his beer bottle in the air.
“Alright, alright,” Becks gestures with his hands for the crowd to calm back down, so they can hear him, “as you may have heard, Rise Above is working on another duet with our good friend, Jocelyn. Unfortunately, she couldn’t make the trip overseas to see all you crazy people, so we’re going to improvise tonight.”
The crowd whoops and cheers.
My eyes narrow.
I’ve seen the YouTube video.
“I need you all to give a round of applause for our manager, and one of my favorite people of all time.” Becks turns, so he’s facing the wing of the stage. “She’s shy sometimes, so you’re going to have to be really loud.”
They become deafening. Becks laughs into the microphone and gestures for Spyder to go on. He disappears and steps out only moments later with Amelia clinging to him. Her legs are wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck, and his head is bent toward her. The crowd laughs and cheers, pictures are being taken, and I see a ton of videos being made. They love this. I want to rip her out of his arms.
“You can’t do this to me again.” Amelia covers her face, but her voice is picked up by Becks’s microphone.
“It’s your job to help us look good, babe.” He chuckles.
She glances up at him and tries to glare, but he’s already signaling the band who are ready to play. I glance at York, who’s also watching everything play-out. His jaw is clenched, his eyes filled with emotion. The beat to Benny Blanco’s “Eastside” starts playing.
“Mia loves this one so here we go,” Becks informs the crowd before his voice meshes perfectly into Khalid’s as he sings. I wasn’t ready though, when Amelia steps up to the mic.
“Seventeen and we got a dream…” Her voice is husky and haunting. It’s everything from my childhood, yet different at the same time. Mature. Sultry. The hairs on my arms pebble, causing my arms to shiver. Amelia’s voice grows stronger; the longer she sings, the more confidence she gains with Becks standing beside her. My chest squeezes until it feels like I can’t breathe. It kills me that I tore us apart. I’m not sure if she’ll ever give me a chance.
