“Girlfriend?” Ramón blinked. “That’s… different.” He looked at Nell with new interest and seemed to be softening. “You’re not his usual kind of groupie, baby.”
“Two points.” Nell spoke calmly and firmly, the instructor explaining concepts to a student who’d misunderstood. She didn’t want to antagonize the man, who might be their key to getting inside the hotel — the easy way, at least — but nor was she willing to let anyone talk to her in that insulting tone. “One, I’m not a groupie. I don’t even listen to rock music much. And two, you do not have permission to call me baby. I answer to Nell, Miss Whelan, or ma’am.”
There was a moment’s pause, then Ramón burst out laughing. “I… can’t… even…” he managed to gasp between chuckles. “You’re just so… unexpected.”
“Better get used to it,” Eamonn said with a grin.
“You two planning to be around here much?” Ramón asked, sounding more curious than antagonistic.
“Look, I’m here to apologize to Blade.” Eamonn held out a hand in what was almost a pleading gesture. “My best chance to do that is if you’ll let me in so I can find him and say it face to face. I have no idea what’ll happen afterward.”
“They’ve got a new bass player, you know.” The slightly belligerent edge to Ramón’s voice as he relayed this fact made Nell wonder whether Eamonn had been less than pleasant to him in the past.
“Hard to do without one,” Eamonn shot back, his good intentions apparently souring.
Flipping hell. Nell gave his hand a squeeze, hoping he’d remember that their goal was to get inside, not win a pissing contest with a crew member guarding the gate. “So, Ramón? Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Were you specifically told not to let Easy through the gate? I’d understand if you didn’t want to disobey a direct order like that…”
Ramón shook his head. “I’ve been with this crew a good bit of time now. I get told if they’re expecting someone they want to see. Otherwise, they trust me to use my judgment.”
She gave him an encouraging smile. “So, what would it take to get us inside? I promise you, we’re here to make things right, that’s all.”
“Well, I don’t know. Your man’s attitude with the crew doesn’t make us want to do favors…” And under his breath he added, “Arrogant ass.”
Nell had lots of experience with students who added things under their breath, thinking the instructor wouldn’t hear or would somehow let it pass. “Oh? I should think arrogance is pretty common among rock stars. Doesn’t it just go with the territory?”
Ramón squirmed a little. “Lots of the time, sure. Smidge, though — Angel always treats us right, one of the few true gentlemen of rock, so it sets our standards high. And Dice has the biggest heart in the world, he’d literally help us do our jobs if we let him. Blade can be prickly when he’s in a mood, it’s true, but he apologizes afterward like a man should, and he’ll party with the crew like we’re brothers.”
“I guess they don’t feel like they have to prove over and over they belong on the stage and not back with the groupies,” Eamonn snapped, then reddened as both Nell and Ramón turned to stare at him. “I didn’t mean—”
“Of course you belong on the fucking stage, man,” Ramón said at once, cutting off whatever Eamonn would have said. “You may be an ass, but you’re a gifted one.” He sighed, an exaggerated concession, and got up to open the gate. “Oh, go on in. Maybe they’ll be glad to see you.”
“Thanks,” Eamonn said. “I almost wish you’d said no, because facing Blade after all that is one of the toughest things I’ve ever had to do.”
Ramón gave a dry chuckle and punched Eamonn on the arm in encouragement, perhaps a little harder than necessary, as he passed through the gate.
Right on the pressure point, Nell thought. And they were in.
No one noticed the two visitors at first.
The central courtyard was almost breathtakingly beautiful. Crystal clear water reflected the sky from a sunken central Art Deco swimming pool and matching hot tub tiled in shades of turquoise. Chairs grouped around patio tables invited guests to sit by the pool, and three men sat around one of them, poring over a stack of papers. Climbing roses rambled up the creamy plaster walls; stairs at either end of the courtyard led to the second-floor rooms, where a walkway with a wrought-iron railing wrapped around the courtyard, serving as both a balcony and an outdoor hallway. Here and there people came and went, carrying boxes or instruments or clothing — Rancho Rosal was a luxury boutique hotel, but the crew who’d taken it over were there to work, at least at this hour.
A man emerged from one of the ground-floor rooms with a mixing console in his arms and some cables draped around his shoulders. He almost walked right by Nell and Eamonn, then did a double take and paused. “Easy?”
“Hey, Trick. I’m just here to see the guys, nothing bad, only to talk. Point me in the right direction?”
The man gave Eamonn a doubtful look, but jerked his head toward the stairs, muttering, “Don’t get me involved, dude. I didn’t see you; I want nothing to do with this.”
Nell and Eamonn headed up the stairs in silence. Which room? Some of the doors stood open; others were closed. The swimming pool glinted with sunlight in the courtyard below, and roses twined around the railing bobbled in the mild breeze, everything so peaceful and postcard perfect.
A door at the far end of the walkway opened and a woman came out — a young-looking beauty with a halo of vintage-movie-star curls and a silver ring in her lip, wearing a floaty grey dress that clung to her obviously pregnant belly. She didn’t see them at
