His upper lip curls at me. “Are you doing this just to piss me off?”
“Get over yourself,” I snap, finally losing a bit of my cool. “I don’t want to be around you either, but it’s a great opportunity. Whatever coverage I write will go national. Maybe there’s a book in it.”
“A book?” Sam’s eyebrows shoot up.
I nod. “Romeo agreed if you guys get big, I can use whatever blog stuff I write for a book about the tour.”
“Riding on our coattails,” he sneers.
“Working hard and promoting you,” I say.
Sam stares at me in anger, his muscular body so still it’s eerie. At last he asks, “Did you tell Romeo anything about us?”
The word us grates on my nerves. “Why would I tell him about the past? About Seth? I didn’t even tell him I knew you, and that’s the reason for my little visit. As far as I’m concerned, we’re strangers.”
Sam’s lips twist into a thin, mocking line and his eyes slowly rake over me. “Strangers, huh?”
Gah. I want to smack that look off his face. “It’s been more than three years, Sam. That’s a long time. Almost the span of high school or college,” I say flatly. “So yes, strangers.”
We’re both silent, staring at each other, when the door behind him opens.
“Hey, dude,” the tall guy says, nearly colliding with Sam as he walks in. “I got your shit for the tour—” He pauses when he notices me and utters a slightly confused-sounding “Hey.” Then he turns to Sam. “Sorry, didn’t know you had company.”
“It’s all right,” Sam says, still staring at me. “Could you give us a minute, Jeff?”
“Yeah, no problem,” Jeff says, striding past us into the connected kitchen.
At the thud of a door closing down the hallway off the kitchen, Sam says, “So you came here to tell me we’re going to pretend to be strangers. Anything else?” His expression is cold.
“I wanted to warn you and clear the air. I’m hoping we can agree to get along over the next six weeks.”
“Like friends?”
“Yeah, like friends,” I say, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. “I don’t want to make things hard for you, and I’m hoping you won’t make my job unpleasant for me.”
He raises an eyebrow. “So I’m supposed to just accept that we’re stuck together on a bus for six weeks straight?”
“Ignore me if that’s what it takes, but being a dick isn’t going to change the past.”
His expression turns condescending. “Ah, so you think I’m going to be the problem.”
“Yes, Sam, I’m worried you haven’t grown up and will act like an ass instead of an adult. Should I be?”
He shrugs, leans against a chair, crosses his orange-socks-clad feet, and gives me a wry look. “Probably.”
Anger shoots through me. Feeling like I might combust, I clench my fists beneath my folded arms. It takes a few moments, but I push down my anger and coolly say, “I’m doing this, even if I have to deal with you being a jerk. This has the possibility of opening doors for me.”
Still watching me, not blinking, Sam slowly moves forward until his thickly muscled body is just inches from mine. “You’re probably right,” he says. “The past isn’t going to change anyone’s mind about letting you on the tour. But you’re right to feel worried. I’m going to make the next six weeks hell for you every chance I get.” He smirks at me. His gaze is furious.
An angry “f-you” almost escapes from my mouth. Instead, I swallow the expletive and say evenly, “You assume I’m just going to take it? No retaliation?” I step around Sam and open the door to the apartment. Looking back over my shoulder, I say, “Paybacks are hell, and hell is usually a two-way street. Think about that.” Then I step out into the summer sunshine, slamming the door behind me.
I don’t rush to my car, but instead stroll casually across the parking lot. But once I’m in the driver’s seat, my entire body trembles from adrenaline. My fingers shake as I push the key into the ignition. Gripping the steering wheel, I force myself to breathe in deeply through my nose and let out air slowly through my mouth.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
When Romeo called me, it had come out of the blue. And his news—that Luminescent Juliet had been invited on a national tour with two other major bands—had stunned me. I knew the band was huge on campus. And I knew they had released an indie album a few months before. But during those first few minutes of talking to him, I’d been surprised the band was hitting the big time—and caught equally off guard that he was calling to tell me about it. Sure, I’d written one piece about them for the school paper, back when they’d first started drawing big crowds. But it wasn’t like I was a groupie or anything. Actually, just the opposite. I’d seen them play only once, at the beginning of sophomore year. And the instant I’d recognized the bass player was Sam, I’d vowed to stay away from all things Luminescent Juliet.
The minute Romeo offered me the job—to go on tour with them and chronicle their every move—I realized that he’d obviously researched my credentials but not my personal life. I could tell that he knew nothing about the past Sam and I shared. Not that the past would have mattered to Romeo—because my work is good. Professional. Smart, with just enough edge. It turned out that Romeo had interviewed everyone who was going to be on the school newspaper’s editorial team in the upcoming year. My obsession with music was the deciding factor between me and the other two people he interviewed. Luckily for me, our interview had veered off course and into a deep conversation about the merits of ’70s punk versus ’90s grunge rock. I’d worried that my very vocal opinions had screwed up the interview up. Instead, they had sealed the deal.
As soon as Romeo made me an offer, I took the job. My goal was to become a music journalist. I’d been seriously into music since I was twelve, so touring with a band and writing about it was like a dream come true. Finally, my work would be seen beyond the pages of a college newspaper. I just didn’t want to deal with Sam. Or the past.
But now that my conversation with the jerk is over, I feel certain that even dealing with him will be a small price to pay for a huge step forward in my career. I’m pretty much over the past. I was never the girl they made me out to be, and I’ve come a long way since the days when a hateful rumor was enough to level me. I’ve slowly learned how to rise above the rumors and not look back.
I turn the key in the ignition with a feeling of resolve.
The past will not affect my future.
I drive away without looking in my rear-view mirror, back at Sam’s apartment.
Chapter 2
Standing in the middle of my bedroom, I read over the long list of what to pack for the tour—more like an instruction booklet—in my hand again:
One small suitcase
One backpack
Fifteen pairs of socks
Fifteen pairs of underwear
Laundry bag with name on it
No more than three pairs of shoes
One box of nonperishable groceries
On and on it goes. Romeo is one thorough guy—although it has crossed my mind that anal-retentive might be a better descriptor. When I met him and Justin to review preparations for leaving, I’d been unable to hide my surprise at the pages of instructions they’d handed me. Justin had laughed when my eyebrows rose, but Romeo explained that he’d spent hours researching the best tricks for surviving a band tour, and that these seemingly small things turned out to be big issues. He wanted to take care of the details in advance so everything could go smoothly on the road, so the band could just focus on playing.