“We’ll take your damn car,” she announced, as she strode over to the front door, where I was waiting for her.
She didn’t offer another word of argument, just pulled one of her many faux-fur coats from the closet. This one was a pale, silvery-gray. The silver pantsuit she was wearing had skintight pants and a low-cut bodice with silver sequins all over it—and push-up cups that seemed to barely contain her nipples—with a little cropped silver jacket overtop. She caught me checking her out as she slipped the coat on and picked up her purse, and I looked away, opening the front door for her.
We headed out to my car and I opened the passenger door for her.
She slid in with a muttered, “Thanks.”
Then she spent the entire drive to the nightclub downtown talking on her phone, flirting with friends who were coming to the show tonight.
At the venue, Andre met us at a door to backstage, where I ushered Summer inside. Then Andre headed out to park my car for me.
Summer’s roadie-slash-tech guy, Sledge, also met us backstage. The man was a mess of hair; he had long brown hair, an unkempt beard, hairy arms. He was like a grungy teddy bear with a permasmile. I introduced myself to him and Summer gave him an exuberant hug.
He told her she was all set up. He’d brought a few cases with her personal things and left them in the dressing room for her. One was a standing wardrobe case filled with accessories and shoes; the other two smaller cases were filled with cosmetics and beauty tools. More wardrobe stuff. Apparently, Sledge stored it for her with her DJ equipment, in-between gigs.
Summer closed herself into the dressing room and Sledge headed out to the bar for a drink. And when Andre got back, I left him guarding the dressing room door so I could introduce myself to the shift manager, who I’d already spoken with on the phone, and meet his head bouncer.
I took a good look around the entire venue. I was familiar with the club, but I scoped out the exits, the security cams, the bouncers’ positions. The clearest paths to each exit from the stage.
Then I headed backstage to wait for Summer, and sent Andre out into the club to keep an eye on things and make sure Sanchuk didn’t appear. I’d given printouts of his photo to the manager and the bouncers. The manager had taped them up at the front desk, the coat check, and the two bars, where only the staff could see them. The staff had been prepped that there was an impending restraining order against the man in the photo and he wasn’t allowed in the venue. They’d been instructed to notify the head bouncer or the manager immediately upon seeing him, and to call 911.
Sure, I’d heard what Piper—and Jude—had said. But if Blair Sanchuk showed up at one of Summer’s events, and the bar staff happened to call the police… so be it.
When Summer emerged from the dressing room, her faux-fur coat was gone. She was still wearing the silver pantsuit, though she’d added platform heels that boosted the top of her head up closer to my eye level, and she’d put on a long, expensive looking turquoise wig. The hair was stick straight and silky, with blunt bangs, and she’d put on more makeup. She had giant black feather eyelashes on.
She looked fucking gorgeous. Radiant and dangerous at the same time. Like some femme fatale from a film noir… set in space.
“Wow,” I muttered.
So sue me, it slipped out.
“You like?” she asked, a sultry sparkle in her eye.
“You look great,” I said, as neutrally as I could.
“Like grandma’s sweater again, huh?”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Like that.”
She grinned.
I walked her out to the club, which was up the hallway and through a door that was guarded by a bouncer. It opened into the VIP area, which was down to one side of the stage. From there, a half-flight of steps led up to the stage.
The house DJ was playing, drawing people onto the dance floor as the nightclub filled up. It was probably close to capacity already. We were approaching ten-thirty and Summer would be playing soon.
She greeted a bunch of people in the VIP area, seeming totally calm about her impending performance. She’d told me she liked to arrive a bit early for most shows, to absorb the vibe of the club and the crowd before she went on.
If she was worried about Sanchuk showing up, she didn’t show it.
She was very cool about everything, smiling at everyone and taking her time doing her rounds. I watched her accept the cocktail the manager brought for her and sipped, chatting with him, while other people hovered, hoping to talk to her.
I recognized her friends Wendy and Jewel. Elle Delacroix was here with Flynn. I said hello and talked to him for a bit, casually, while I kept an eye on Summer.
Andre was hanging out at the other end of the stage, halfway up the big staircase that led to the upper level, where there were more tables, the second bar, and people lined the railing, watching the club floor below.
I’d stay at this end while Summer played, on the steps up to the stage, so I’d have a good vantage point of her and the stage, the VIP area, the crowd, and a direct line of sight to Andre.
By the time the house DJ introduced her, Summer had already slipped up onto the back corner of the stage to watch him and the crowd.
I stood next to her.
When she finally took over, the crowd exploded with noise and excitement. Bodies pushed in around the stage. The volume on the music went way up as Summer dropped some insanely heavy beat. The music was loud, thumping, grinding… and definitely heavier than I’d expected.
The crowd was all over it.
As Summer played, I surveyed the room. Watching for any early
