JACKS

"Rise and shine, superstar!" someone shouts, waking me from my sleep.

I roll over and see Dré in an oversized T-shirt and jeans holding coffee in one hand and a white paper bag in the other.

"What time is it?" I grumble.

"Time for you to get your ass up," he says, jokingly kicking my mattress. "It's 2 pm, sleeping beauty. You promised the label you'd lay down more vocals today."

I sit up and rub my eyes.

"Today? I thought we had a show tonight."

"Tomorrow night. Today you're in the studio, remember?"

I want to complain that they're having me do this while on tour, but it's my own damn fault. I passed all my writing deadlines by quite a bit, so we're scrambling to get this album out by its promo date.

"Plus," he says, handing me the coffee cup, "they still want you to write two more new tracks to round it out."

"Great, I'll fit all that in during my copious free time."

"If it makes you feel any better, they don't have to be single material. They think the new one, Ruined, is your second single. Which I guess is a bit of good news, bad news."

"How is that bad news?" I take a sip of my coffee and raise an eyebrow at him.

"They want you to do the video just before you head to Europe."

"Uggh," I sigh, falling back into a pile of pillows. "Anything else you want me to take care of? Solve world hunger perhaps?"

"Yeah, I know, man. The life of a beloved millionaire pop star must be rough."

I sit up and narrow my eyes at him.

"You want to do my job?" I ask, standing to stretch.

"Do I want to have ladies throwing their panties at me while I dance around in a Dior suit? Damn right."

"You make me sound like a stripper." He starts to walk into the living area and I follow him.

"A bit. You're like a singing stripper. But you don't strip."

"Ah, so I'm a singing strip-o-gram... and a disappointing one, apparently." I sit down at the table with my coffee and tear into the white bag, which contains an egg sandwich.

"Late night? You seem thrashed."

"Yeah," I say, smiling a bit. "Skye and I hung out till like 3 or 4."

"Oh shit," says, his jaw dropping slightly. "You already had sex with her? I know you're Mister Heartthrob and all but I kin-"

"I didn't have sex with her," I interrupt. "Geez, Dré, she's still engaged. She doesn't even know I'm interested, okay? I'm just getting to know her."

"Oh, thank god. I did not want to clean up that PR nightmare. I can just see the headline: Jackson Ford Knocks Up Engaged Employee."

Leave it to Dré to turn a nonexistent sexual encounter into a nonexistent pregnancy scandal.

"I'm not knocking anybody up, I'm not even having sex. We've barely ever touched each other's hands. So cool your jets."

I take a bit of the sandwich and swallow it down.

"So what did you do all night then? Play chess?"

"We talked, listened to music. Mostly talked."

"You're smiling like a damn fool, you know that?" He laughs and shakes his head.

"I can't help it. I... I really like spending time with her. In the back of my mind, I thought that maybe when I got to know her, she'd lose her appeal; but every time I see her, it's the exact opposite. Everything I learn about her makes me fall a little bit harder."

"Ooof, you got it bad, Jacks. I guess I've gotta meet this mystery girl."

SKYE

I wake up to the sound of laughing and guitars strumming. My phone says it's about 2 in the afternoon. This tour schedule is really going to be strange, but I kind of love getting to sleep in.

Last night was one of the best nights of my life. Photographing a live show for a famous artist was a dream come true—and spending time with Jacks was a whole lot better than I expected. I feel like I could talk to him forever and never get bored. Maybe we could be friends when the tour is over.

What am I thinking? Jackson Ford does not want to be friends with me.

People like Jackson Ford are friends with movie stars and models. They are not friends with wannabe photographers.

I sigh and look up at the low ceiling of my bunk.

"Is everybody here?" Kaylani asks. "I'm going over the schedule."

"One second!" I call, pulling open the curtain to the scent of coffee and marijuana smoke. I get out of my bunk and brush the wrinkles out of my pajamas.

Salty waddles over to me and greets me with a lick to the leg. I reach down and scratch behind his ears.

"Morning little sausage roll," I say with a smile. Salty makes a series of pig-like snorts and grunts as he leans into my hand.

"Great, we're all here," Kaylani says, surrounded by band members with their guitars. Sticks is drumming on the table with a lit joint hanging loosely from his lips. Kaylani clears her throat before continuing.

"So the next three days are going to be a little unorthodox. Today is a recording day for Jacks and Roman is doing press, so everyone's off. You can explore Las Vegas but that is not a free pass—you're adults, so act like it. No hookers, no illegal drugs, and if you're hung over for the show I will boot you off tour."

Several of the boys groan but nod in response.

"Tomorrow night we have a show, load in is at 3. Sound check at 5. Same thing as last time, Roman opens, Jacks closes. Friday will be another free day then we'll be on the road around 8 pm."

"Are we staying on the bus?" a roadie asks.

"The Palazzo has a few rooms for us, but there aren't enough for everyone, so you can all argue amongst yourselves about who gets them. The rest of you are staying on the buses. Salty and I are going to be in room 6280."

She sets down a few room keys on the table and the boys immediately start fighting over who gets them.

"I'm good staying on the bus," I say.

Besides, lugging around heavy camera equipment is a pain. It's way easier to stay where I am.

I walk over to my luggage and pull out a change of clothes for the day.

"How's it going?" Kaylani asks, sneaking up behind me a bit.

"Oh uh... good thanks."

"Are the boys giving you trouble? I can bust some balls if I need to."

"No, uh... not at all. I'm just getting used to the whole tour bus thing."

"I've done it for a while now. My advice? Get good earplugs, hide your snacks, and get used to seeing a lot of dong."

I laugh and nod.

"Thanks."

"And that 'hide your snacks' thing goes double around Sticks. He's always baked off his ass and gets major munchies."

"Good to know."

"Do you mind if I ask, um... what's with the ring?"

I look down to the small silver diamond ring on my finger.

"Oh uh... I'm engaged."

It never gets less weird to say that.

My mom was really pushing us to get married with her not-so-subtle hints about being an old lady and 'not being around forever'. I never really thought about marriage much, but it made her happy and Greg seemed like he wanted it too. But every time I look at this ring I feel... awkward. Like it's not even my ring or my hand.

Her eyebrows raise and she gives me a skeptical look.

"You're engaged? To uh...?"

"His name is Greg. He's back in LA."

"Oh. Sorry, I um... weird, I just got other vibes. When is Greg's birthday?"

"Uh, January 12th. Why?"

"Capricorn, interesting. And you're an Aries, right? Huh..."

I feel like I'm afraid to ask what she thinks that means.

My phone interrupts by vibrating in my hand. It's Greg—speak of the devil.

"Oh, I should take this."

She nods and heads back to the front of the bus.

"Hey stranger!" I say as I answer the phone.

I was kind of hoping to hear from him at some point last night, but I felt better knowing he was missing me this morning.

"Hey Skye, how's tour life treating you?"

"Great so far. I can't wait to show you some of the pictures I took last night. There wa-"

"Yeah, sorry babe, I can't talk long. I'm just on my lunch break and I was wondering, did you take my phone charger with you? I can't find it anywhere."

Oh.

So much for missing me.

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