A Slip of the Hand

Chapter 4

The band stays outside for autographs and pictures while the rest of us are escorted into the VIP area. Convent is exquisite, full of large chandeliers lit with purple and red lights that twinkle into gold-bordered mirrors. Large booths with plush, purple upholstery ring the room, and go-go girls in daring lingerie dance on platforms above them. Ornate, Baroque-style black and white wallpaper with gold metal flourishes covers the walls. It's a stark contrast to the dingy dives with ripped upholstery and permanently sticky floors we frequented in college.

Ellie and I bolt to the bar, still in disbelief we've crashed a legitimate afterparty with free booze and gorgeous people everywhere we look. This isn't just a night out after a show; this is an event to mark the end of the tour.

Drinks in hand, we claim a booth—one without a go-go dancer above it—to await the band's arrival. We can't stop grinning at each other. If the alcohol wasn't enough, my excitement alone is intoxicating.

"I have to pee," Ellie complains. "But I guess I should use the mirror, anyway. Watch my drink, Madi?"

"Mmm hmm," I nod.

"And text me right away if they come in."

I nod again.

I watch the VIP area slowly fill, but there's still room to mill about. The atmosphere is electric and yet intimidating. As excited as I am for the Hollywood club experience, I want to be back on that bus with Oliver Rose nearly in my lap. I might never be so close to him again, and now I have to compete with every other person in here. What if I don't measure up? They all probably know how to get his attention, whereas I'm still figuring out how to even talk to him without crying, vomiting, or who knows what else.

I stare down at my drink as I consider this. I have a certain amount of self-confidence, but Oliver Rose is a rock star. He's a literal god to me: a glowing, ethereal being out of reach for a mere mortal like myself.

At least I feel relatively good about the way I look tonight. My skin has finally adapted to the California water and air, and Ellie helped me choose my outfit. Her suggestion to pair my fluttery, lacy black dress with combat boots and graphic eyeliner keeps it from looking too delicate.

Someone slides into my booth. I figure it's Ellie making a speedy return, but instead I look up to see Daniel with a beer clutched between his hands.

"How're you holding up?" he asks.

"Good!" I respond brightly. I lower my voice as I continue: "But can you tell I'm completely out of my element?"

His mouth slides into a curvy grin. "Well, you do look a little intimidated. It's cute, though."

My cheeks heat, and I'm thankful the dim red lighting will hide their blush.

"Have you been here before?" I ask, shifting the attention away from myself.

He nods, swallowing a sip of beer. "Yeah, I've been here with the boys a few times. They like it because it has a big VIP space with its own dance floor and a secret back exit."

The boys. I can't imagine being close enough to a world-famous band to call them that. "What type of vibe is it?"

He raises an eyebrow with a smirk. "Vibe?"

"Yeah! Like, what type of people do they normally let in?"

"It's pretty select. If you're not 'a person of note,'" he says, making air quotes, "then good luck."

"Are you a 'person of note'?"

"No," he responds with a dismissive laugh. "Only when I'm with them, thank goodness."