And A Shared Dream.

“I swear, I saw Richie.”

Jamie rolled her eyes. “You’ve got those laces tied too tight there, chick.”

Steph cinched the leather dress closed, leaving a thin slice of skin between the silver eyelets. The dress huggedthe tops of her thighs. She tied a double knot at the center of her breasts for security, forcing her hands to unclench and let the ends dangle down.

She knew she’d seen him. For God’s sake she’d felt the weight of his gaze. Even before she’d locked eyes with him, she’d felt him. She’d always known when he was in a room. But as usual, Jamie was oblivious to anything beyond the neck of her guitar.

Sometimes she envied her narrow focus on the music and the tone of the set. She knew she could rely on Jamie following her lead when it came to the entertaining end of things. And she interacted with the crowd well enough, but at the heart of her, it was the unity of the group and the guitars that were Jamie’s obsession. She was very much like Richie in that regard. The differences between sister and brother were jarring after that.

Where Richie was wide smiles and fun, basking in the love of the stage, Jamie would lose herself in the song. Her sadness or joy was controlled by the song. It was what made her a truly empathetic songwriter and player. It was just exhausting to be around sometimes.

Standing before the long dressing mirror, Steph reached in and tucked herself into the slightly too small cups of the built in bra of the dress. The swell of cleavage was enhanced with varying silver chains. She fastened a large purple heart pendant above the fullest part of her.

“Yes, your tits are perfectly framed and sparkly, you slut.”

Steph looked over her shoulder. Knots in her belly loosened at the easy insults that only best friends could fling. “You’re just jealous because you have to use duct tape to find your cleavage.”

She looked down. “What? Can you see it?” Jamie pushed her over, and turned to the side, then checked out her back. There was nothing but gold toned skin. Three skinny strings held the halter front up and tracked down her back where a band of black hugged the hips of her leather pants.

Stephanie hip checked her out of the way. “No, whore…you’re fine. Is my ass covered?”

Jamie took a step back to look her over. “Barely. No bending over or you’ll be showing more than the girls tonight.” She crossed her arms. “Who put those stockings on you, a two year old?”

“Are they twisted?”

“Yep.” Jamie crouched down to fix her. “No sitting in these bad boys,” she warned. A decade of friendship meant she could feel her up without issue, or a trace of modesty. After smoothing the crooked line of the stockings until they lay right, she snapped one of the strings behind her knee.

“Ow!”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Jamie muttered. “You’ll look like a bunched up, retarded grandma’s whore if these aren’t lined up right.”

“God, I just love the way you put things, Jamison.”

Jamie grinned at her in the mirror and stood. “You’re the one wearing fishnets.” She was a full head taller than her. “Good thing I love you. I should hate you on principle.”

“Why,” Steph asked on a choked laugh.

“Because I look like a cricket on steroids next to all your lush curves.”

The laugh was quick and sure. Ever the ongoing debate between them. She’d kill for a bit of Jamie’s height so she didn’t look so curvy. She stepped into a pair of ankle boots; the extra three inches put her a bit closer to Jamie’s 5’9. A heavy dose of water and gel activated her curls, giving her a few more inches.

They were both in rocker black, but Jamie would never pick a skirt over leathers. She was the jeans and leather pants girl, where Steph was all girl. It was why they worked.

“Ready for this?”

“Damn right,” Jamie said and slid her hand around her waist, leaving Steph to do the same. Ashley came up on Steph’s left. White leather short-shorts and a bright pink bra hugged her pixie-lean body. Her short bleached hair was tipped in the same pink. Fake eyelashes extended her own, and even they were tipped in pink.

Ronnie came up to stand at Jamie’s right. White jeans and violent purple boots skimmed her thighs. A matching suede jacket was pushed up at her arms, and a white lace tank completed her look. Her dark hair curled everywhere.

“We look awesome,” Stephanie said with a huge smile.

Jamie arched a brow into the mirror, fixing the black and red cross that cinched across her neck. “Well, I know I do, but you whores are passable.”

The chorus of groans and laughter ended in linked hands as they formed a circle. Steph’s voice hitched a little. “I know we’re all tired as hell, but we can do this.” Nothing felt as important as this moment. Her girls around her, the next step in Devotion’s evolution was waiting for them, she could feel it in the air.

Everyone nodded and squeezed once before letting go. Steph stayed back, off to the side of the stage. Ashley did a running handspring, then a back flip onto the stage. She waved at the crowd madly before climbing up to her kit. Ronnie strutted to her mic stand all legs and righteous heels. Jamie waited for the house lights to dim before she snuck out to her post.

The bass line and guitars growled then Ash’s kick drum pulled it all together. She walked out, her voice low as the lights slowly pulsed blue, then purple, then hot pink as the opening verse grew into the heart of the song. The crowd had been prompted well, reacting to the pounding chorus with a sing-along that infused the song with the fun and the heartbreak.

They ended up redoing the song at least fifteen times before the director had enough footage to do what he wanted. She scanned the room, hating that she couldn’t relax and forget about seeing him.

Maybe it was wishful thinking. Maybe she just wanted to see him so much that she was imagining him. It had been months since she’d seen him. All the way back to Christmas, and even then it had been a quick stop in. The only thing Steph remembered clearly was the mistletoe and a jostled kiss on the cheek.

Another inch to the left and she’d have had her mouth under his—Finally. Would he react and kiss her? Or ignore her, as he’d done since that night in New York City?

She forced a big smile onto her face and thanked the crowd. She waved a few people forward and all the girls came down to sign autographs and pose for pictures with their fans.  Through the sea of faces she spotted him leaning against the bar.

She knew she’d seen him, dammit. She pushed past Jamie, ignoring her questioning glare. The stairs were a little tricky, but she slapped hands and smiled for the flashes until she circumvented the crowd.  Broad shoulders and dark hair came into view a moment later.

Shouting his name, the crowd suddenly hushed and his eyes were on hers for a moment before all hell broke loose. Knowing her mistake the minute his name left her lips, she heard the low curse from Jon then Richie’s rich laugh. The crowd went from milling and calm to a frenzy of pushing females and screams.

This time, the screams weren’t for her band. She watched them handle the crowd like the ringmasters they’d become. Smiles and efficient Sharpies bought them time until security swooped down to decimate and disperse.

Patience leaked out of her with every minute that she had to stand there and watch women crawl all over Richie.  Wishing for a lollipop to mash her teeth into, she stood on the sidelines as bodies were shuffled. She smiled and shook hands when fans remembered it was Devotion they were there to see. All the while, she watched and she waited. She was used to waiting.

She was beginning to hate the word.

*             *             *             *

“What do you mean, Jon’s out there?” Jamie peered over Ashley’s shoulder. CC Rider’s was slowly emptying out. She rolled her eyes as an explosion of females pushed toward the bar. Richie looked like he was enjoying the crush. As usual, Jon had his blank face on—Mr. Cool, just a few degrees away from cranky.

Unapproachable should be off putting, but when it came to Jon, rose colored glasses were the deal of the decade, and every fucking girl had a pair. Christ, they were completely oblivious to the snarl that was brewing.

Ash nearly vibrated in front of her. Looks like she owned a pair of those glasses too. “What do you think Jon and Richie are doing here? I mean, wow.  The guys from Bon Jovi are here at our show, you know?”

Jamie pushed her hair back. “I have no fucking clue. Maybe Richie wanted to check up on me.”

“Maybe he just wanted to come congratulate us,” Ash said over her shoulder.

“Yeah, congratulate. Great.”

“C’mon, Jamie. Richie’s proud of you.”

Tamping down the need to snipe at the perpetually perky Ashley, she said nothing. Couldn’t Richie be proud of her in a phone call? A postcard? Did he have to show up and steal her thunder? “C’mon, let’s go see what the deal is.”

Ronnie and Ashley trailed behind her long legged stride. By the time she’d gotten to the bar, the worst of Caligula had been dragged away. All except one girl, who’d made sure to plaster herself to Jon’s right side. Her hand gripped his scarf, twisting it around her wrist. She was as boring and non-descript as any other groupie—all boobs and adoring eyes.

Stephanie stood at the end of the bar with her arms crossed. Her brother was all wide smiles, detangling himself from the stragglers who’d managed to charm their way around the security.

He came right for her, scooping her up in a bear hug. “Hi, baby girl.”

“Man, don’t call me that,” she groused, but hugged Richie back just as tightly. He was the only man besides her father that could put her on her tiptoes. Not to mention the stupid smile she couldn’t quite control. “What are you doing here?”

“What? I can’t come and see my baby sister?”

Jamie blew bangs out her eyes, just as Richie did the same. Just like that, she couldn’t stop the laugh or the sudden pump of happiness. He really was her favorite person on the earth. It was so hard to be mad about second place. “Did you see me?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “I did, and you’ll have to teach me that thing you did with the solo in Psycho Bitch.”

Pleased, her smile widened.  “I gotta have some secrets.”

“Not from me you don’t.” He slung his arm around her and turned back to the bar.

She felt him tense, then immediately relax. She zeroed in on Stephanie’s blank face. Man, she had to be taking lessons from Jon. It was probably only for self-preservation. If Steph kept spitting hearts from her eyeballs, even her dense brother would figure out she’d been in love with him for ten years.

He slid away from her, his fingers curled around the edge of the bar as if to hold onto it instead of her best friend.  Christ, he was a doofus. As if she didn’t know he was just as hot for her best friend, as Steph was for Richie. “Steph.”

“Richie,” Steph said in that sex voice she reserved for radio interviews.

Jamie’s lips twitched before she nodded at Jon. “Hiya, Crab Ass.”

“James.” His voice was soft and rumbly. He was the only person to call her that. The only one she allowed to call her, James. The quiet voice belonged to the devil, she was sure of it. And the devil spoke through Jon in every one of her sweat filled fantasies. She pushed her hair back before she could do something stupid like drag him behind the bar and do Tequila shots off his neck.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Can’t I just come and see you guys?” Richie asked with an exasperated laugh.

“Sure, if it was just you. You brought the Boy Wonder, so something’s up. Spill.”

“Nice, James.” Jon pushed his sunglasses up leaving his angular face uncovered for once.  He looked young and idealistic again for just one minute, before his blue eyes shuttered back into the bored glare she was used to.

She shrugged. “You don’t walk into groupie central,” she paused, giving the limp road rat a once over, “if you can avoid it.”

“Retract the claws, Jamie,” Ronnie murmured behind her.

To prevent herself from tearing out one of the chick’s crooked teeth and feeding it to her, she cracked her thumb knuckle. Instead, she focused on Jon’s cool blue eyes.  He never could lie to her face.  “You know you prefer hiding on that bus or plane of yours. What gives?”

Jon looked down at the girl beside him. “Can you give us a minute, baby?”

“Sure, Jon.”

The little twit’s voice belonged to Long Island, which made her despise her all the more. When she tipped her head up to kiss him, she had to breathe through her nose. Was there smoke coming out? His eyes met hers as the stupid bitch frenched him.

She glanced around to make sure Richie hadn’t caught that asinine show, but he was too busy being entertained by Ashley. Jamie crossed her arms, suddenly aware of her low cut, taped together self. “If you’re done mauling Miss Long Island, I’d like to get this over with so I can get out of these clothes.”

Jon brushed his thumb over his bottom lip, holding her gaze for a second longer before he drew a sheaf of papers out of his coat. “We’ve got a little news for you ladies.”

“All of us?” Steph asked, stepping forward.

Richie sighed and took his place next to Jon. “First, I want to say it wasn’t my idea.”

The back of Jamie’s throat began to itch. That so didn’t sound good.

“Mercury came to us about this only last night. Our headliners, Cinderella, had a last minute injury. Tom Keifer blew out one of his vocal cords.”

Jamie swallowed as Stephanie clasped her hands together. She could see her best friend trying to hold herself together, but her summer sky eyes were already gleaming with excitement.

“Are you asking what I think you’re asking?” Steph asked quietly.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

Ashley started jumping. “Oh my God! Oh my God!” She dragged out the God until the word echoed around the bar twice.

Ronnie dragged her close and held her flailing arms to her sides. “Ash! Down, girl.”

Jon turned to Stephanie, then to Ronnie, then smiled—hell, who couldn’t smile at Ashley—and finally focused on her. “Mercury wants Devotion to open for us. I wasn’t so sure about it, but after watching you guys tonight…well, I want Devotion to open for us, too.”

Jamie almost believed him. It had to be from the higher ups if Jon was willing to be in the same airspace as her. Stephanie turned to her and shrieked, hugging her so hard, she cracked her back. Ashley and Ronnie crowded in and the cacophony of voices drowned out her silence. She smiled and forced a laugh. This was their big break.

A video on MTv, a top twenty single, a gold album—Now this. She met her brother’s dark eyes. His dimple flashed, and the genuine pleasure practically broke his face with the smile.

Jon leaned on the bar, Miss Long Island clutched at his side again. He gave the girl  no more attention than he would a warm beer. Jamie turned away from his bland stare and into her girls waiting arms.

She’d ride her brother’s fame once again.

Fuck.

“Champagne, Paul!” Jamie slapped the bar, passing a bottle to the girls, then to Richie and Jon, then one in front of herself. If she had to be a shadow, she’d be a drunk one. She lifted the bottle. “To Mercury! God help the Slippery Tour.” She drank until the bubbles floated down her shirt and between her breasts.

She drank until the bubbles made her laugh. She fell into her girls and hoped the laughter would hold.