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He looked at me questioningly.

“You look ridiculous with a man-bun.”

He snatched his wrist out of my grip. “I guess the whole ‘we’re not in high school anymore’ doesn’t apply to you, Bea,” he said and walked out.

As soon as he left, a medic came in, and I was given the all-clear. With a plate full of food and a bottle of juice in my hand, I went back out to the practice arena. It was darkened and the light show, except the pyrotechnics, was on full blast.

I was in such pure awe at my brother’s performance and stage presence that I didn’t realize that I had been sitting next to Splinter. We watched them for a while, clapping in delight at how good they were. There was awkward silence between changes, but Splinter finally spoke up.

“They’re really good.”

I glanced at him for a brief moment then looked back to my brother with a smile. “I know.”

I sensed Splinter staring at me, and when I turned to look at him, I saw a facial expression I had never seen on him before: disappointment. He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, then stood up and leaned down to whisper into my ear.

“That could be you.”

He slowly moved away from me and walked to the other side of the room. I know I had
some
musical talent in me. It had to be genetic. I could write decent songs, play piano, and strum a guitar. I was okay on drums and bass, and I even had a decent-sounding voice. But my brother was the star, and the only reason I went to Rosewood was because I had run out of luck with public schools, private schools were becoming too expensive and troublesome, plus Mackynsie and I wanted to be close again. At the time, we had spent a year apart, and it created a huge hole in our friendship. She was going nowhere but up, and I was quickly headed downhill. I knew better, however. She was really sad, and I had a huge problem with punching before thinking. Rosewood accepted me as a student based on my music teacher’s high recommendation. To them, I was deemed talented enough to attend Rosewood. When I got there, apparently everyone else thought the same. It wasn’t hard rising to the top alongside Mackynsie.

The problem was, on my way to the top, I had somehow lost myself.

I tried to ignore Splinter’s words and eat my food while minding my own business. If anyone needed anything to be done, I knew they had Splinter to help. Right now, I was feigning sickness, and I needed my rest. Even if I hadn’t passed out, I still needed the rest. We had a lot of places to be within the next six weeks, and being on tour with my brother and the three boys that had seen me grow up was going to be chaotic. Now that Splinter had joined us, things could only be worse.

This was going to be one of the most stressful things I had ever done in my life. If I survived, it would be worth it.

CHAPTER THREE

The first day of tour, which had been dubbed the “Femme Fatale Tour,” was finally in full swing. Femme Fatale was a character that had been created by Ben and some of the other members of Eden Sank. It had become a song, then a brand, and now an icon of their band. Femme Fatale meant something different for all of them—though, I didn’t really know what it meant for each person. The morning was what I would soon learn was a typical routine: I waited on five boys to finish in the bathroom and shower only to get a cold shower and a messy bathroom space when it was my turn. Did they not understand my need to maintain these curls on my head? I didn’t wake up with perfect little ringlets every morning.

When I was done fixing my hair, I attempted to wear minimal makeup: mineral foundation with SPF, as well as regular sunscreen, and my regular dark eyeliner and mascara. I decided to wear a bit of lip balm, and it wasn’t until I saw the soft red color smeared on my lips that I realized it was of the tinted variety, so in the end, I had a full face of makeup.

I decided to keep my outfit as simple as possible. High-waisted denim cut-off shorts and a partially buttoned-up flannel shirt that had to date back to the prehistoric era over a white tank top. Add some old and well-loved Converse shoes and I was set. When I was done, everyone had pretty much gone through breakfast, and I chastised them about their lack of chivalry.

“Don’t you know that ladies are always first?” I asked. I sat down and ate the last of the bacon and biscuits that were available, and I even scored some OJ.

“When did you finally become a lady, Frances? Was it after the bra riots of 2008, or was there an event we were unaware of?” Rian joked.

After everyone was done talking about the “sick burn” that Rian had doled out, Dean, Eden Sank’s tour manager, was going over the schedule for the day. He was only about halfway through when I realized it was jam-packed. When he finished talking with the band, he took Splinter and me aside to talk about our duties as the on-the-road interns. We were on roadie duty, and on retainer for everything else. Splinter’s main responsibility was the drums, and I was fetching towels and water bottles for the rock stars all day. Simple enough, right?

“Frances, you guys about ready?” Rian asked impatiently.

“Yeah!” I shouted back into the bus.

First stop on the itinerary was a radio station. They would be playing their mid-afternoon hour show, and the radio station was giving away a select amount of last-minute tickets to the sold-out show in Jersey City.

The boys mainly joked around and hung out like real friends until they were called back into the recording station. Splinter and I were allowed back there with them, and once they were announced over the radio waves, they played their song, “Femme Fatale.” After they were done, the radio hosts, L. Tinsley and Big Poppa, asked a lot of different questions about the tour and about the songs they chose for this particular album.

“What influenced the Femme Fatale character that eventually led to a Top 100 single, ten million copies of your album sold, and a big tour to boot?” L. Tinsley asked, and the boys laughed.

“You could say Femme Fatale is a woman that combines our worst fears, our insecurities, and even a few of our worst nightmares combined into a character,” Ben explained. “What started out as a way to vent brought out a song, and then an entire album, and now this tour. It’s amazing what you can do when you use your fears for positive means.”

I smiled proudly at my brother—though, he didn’t see it, focused as he was on the interview, which I understood.

““Femme Fatale” has been such a big hit. What’s next? What will Eden Sank do after this tour is over?” Big Poppa asked.

“Right now we’re all doing a bit of writing and brainstorming. I can’t say whether or not there will be a new album right off the bat, but I can say we will be working behind the scenes,” Ben said.

“We will be working to find the next best thing,” Rian chimed in.

“Hopefully I’ll finally marry my girlfriend,” Grayson joked, and we all laughed.

After a few more questions, they played another song, and we were off the air for at least three minutes. Ben looked over to me with a soft smile, and I smiled back. We took photos with L. Tinsley and Big Poppa for the radio’s social media sites, and once the photos were posted, I had to turn the notifications off on my phone. Every few seconds, the photos I was tagged in were getting likes and comments.

I could tell my brother was acting as if this was the most natural thing in the world. He wasn’t bothered by the constant notifications or the fact that he was never really left alone. He appeared to enjoy the never-ending attention. All I could think of was a time when he barely wanted to be looked at. Now he was the center of attention, and he was loving it. Was it because he had come out of his shell? He seemed more confident now than he had been the last time I had seen him.

As the day went on and we went from place to place, I kept bumping into Splinter. Literally. We were always in the other’s way or annoying each other. I could probably rip his head off if he made one more snarky comment, and I think he felt the same about me.

When it was time for the show to start, we were in our places.

“You’re really annoying,” he said, standing next to me.

“I could say the same about you,” I retorted.

“Yeah, but like, you really don’t care about anyone except yourself.”

I glanced at him curiously. I didn’t question what he meant. The more I thought about it, the less I wanted to know.

***

Each opening band blazed through their sets, and when it came time to join Eden Sank for their prayer circle, I felt even closer to my brother than I ever had growing up. I hadn’t thought that was possible. Seeing him in his circle of trust right before his big opening number and being able to witness it made me feel a part of his life again. He gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek and went rushing off to go on stage with the wild, screaming fans behind barricades. Watching my brother and his friends perform, I was filled with awe. Everyone else was excited—though, they seemed okay with it as if this spectacular performance I had witnessed was nothing more than a mundane turnout or an everyday occurrence.

Passing each boy a towel and a bottle of water, I watched their rituals unfold. Rian threw the towel over his left shoulder and immediately guzzled the entire bottle of water. Grayson wiped his face gently with the towel and used his water bottle to cool off. Ben doused himself in cold water then proceeded to wipe himself dry. Everett did neither. He looked at me with stunned eyes as if he hadn’t really seen me until that moment.

“Take your stuff and go, rock star,” I said, handing him the towel and water bottle. He took them with a smile and passed me by. He didn’t need to say another word to me; I knew exactly what he was thinking.

I went back into the green room to see a huge party setting up. Alcohol, obvious drug paraphernalia, and scantily clad girls everywhere…I felt more and more out of place, and the way Everett and all the other boys took to it, it made me wonder if this was what it was all about for them.

***

The party was in full swing, and I had been moved around more than a hot potato. Splinter appeared as uncomfortable as I was—although, he was being moved between various women—I had a feeling that he didn’t mind that part so much. I wanted something to drink, so I got up to go to the drink table and found myself facing one of the band groupies. I had never really imagined my brother had groupies. Things had changed since the last time I saw him. He was lusted after by a lot of women (and men), so he probably had sex with whomever he wanted and whenever he wanted. I really had to accept that he was grown up; he wasn’t a kid anymore.

“Who are you?” asked a badly bleached blonde woman sipping on a cocktail of some sort.

“What does it matter?” I asked with obvious annoyance.

“You look too young to be in here,” she said, smacking her lips. It was annoying. In fact, her face alone annoyed me.

“I’m old enough to be wherever I damn well please,” I snapped then Everett pulled me back. Seeing him had a calming effect on me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked me, his speech slightly slurred.

“I’m trying to find something to drink. What do you think you’re doing?”

He shrugged. “I’m doing what I always do.”

“What’s that, getting majorly faded?” I asked, peering through the thin screen of smoke that separated us. He was far gone, and I knew it. I wanted to see if a part of the guy I knew to be real was still in there beneath all the drugs and alcohol.

“Frances, don’t mind this. This is who
I am
. Roll with it.” He tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away.

"Don’t kiss me, not while you're like this.” I had my hand on his chest, and he grabbed my hand in his, throwing it aside as if it was a piece of trash.

“Bea, if I can accept that you’ve got flaws, why can’t you accept mine?” He was raising his voice, and despite the loud music, people were taking notice of our fight.

The next thing I knew, I was getting water dumped all over me, and I screamed out from the shock of the sudden wet and cold.

“What the hell?” I screeched.

“Cool off, kiddo. This is no place for a baby like yourself.” It was the same blonde, and she had dumped the last of the water on me. How ironic.

“You’re going to pay for that!” I shouted. No one could stop me from lunging at her. She didn’t do much to fight me off—though, when Ben caught sight of us, he appeared angrier that I was starting brawls rather than the fact that some groupie was messing with me. He dragged me off of the girl and kicked her out.

“Yeah, just pick your favorite groupies. You’re all the same!” she shouted as she was escorted from the party.

“I’m not a groupie!” I yelled.

I could tell Ben was disappointed in me without him having to say a single word.

When things had calmed down, I found a shot of tequila that was sitting out by itself. The most logical thing would be to leave it be, but I wasn’t the most logical person on the planet. I took the shot glass filled with liquid amber, and I swallowed it down. The burning sensation traveling down my throat didn’t bother me at all. So I drank another, and another, and another. I drank until I was dizzy and numb from the inside out. I wanted to find Everett to see if he liked me this way, drunk and incapacitated as he had been. I wanted to see if when my flaws matched his, if he still wanted to kiss me. I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t find Splinter or Ben either. Rian was still partying hard, and when I walked out of the green room, I saw that Grayson was on the phone with his fiancé.

“Babe, I’ll talk to you later. I’ve got to help someone get back to the bus. Yeah, you know how these parties get. I love you.” He grabbed me by the wrist and led me back to the safety of the tour bus.

“I can’t believe you’re drunk right now, Bea,” he said sternly. “What did you have to drink?”

“Tequila.”

“Ah, the good stuff. Rest up. We’ll be back here soon enough.”

He left me on the bus by myself, and went back outside to the venue to catch up with the other boys who were still partying hard.

Somehow, I found a way to change out of my dampened clothes and into clean, dry pajamas. Then, I crawled into my bunk. I curled up underneath the blankets and buried my face into the fluffy pillow Ben had gotten me, promptly falling asleep.

The next morning, I woke up with a killer headache and instant regret. When I got up, coffee and other breakfast items had been set out, and all the boys were sitting in the lounge with a groggy look on their faces. I didn’t say a word to anyone, got a French toast stick and a piece of bacon, and sat down. I could tell there was plenty to be said when the time was right. Since Dean was in the middle of reprimanding everyone, I decided it was a good time to check my phone. There were plenty of notifications: photos which I needed to untag and photos I didn’t want anyone to see. There was one text message, and it filled me with a new sense of fear.

Anonymous: Too much fun can lead to many troubles. Watch out, B
.

It was another anonymous message, and this time, there was a picture of me knocking back tequila shots. Shocked, I quickly deleted the messages and the pictures, trying to act natural.

Dean left to go figure out some logistics for the next leg of the tour. The boys didn’t have a typical reaction to my post-party hangover. They weren’t angry with me for drinking, and instead, I was the butt of all of their jokes. I was okay with this and tried to laugh at all the bad jokes they came up.

At the same time, my mind wandered over to the messages I had been receiving. Who would possibly send me those messages? Who had enough of an agenda against me to try and scare me the way this person was attempting to?

Everett looked different this morning. He looked angry. I wanted to know what was on his mind, so when he got up to go to the bathroom, I followed him, much to his frustration.