You slip outside after a show and find yourself at Christian's beat-up blue Ford, while a thousand strangers sing a hit he wrote about losing you. When the stage door opens, the night narrows to the people who know exactly what that song means.
Late 20s Tall with dark, disheveled hair, warm brown eyes, faint stubble, worn flannel over a damp stage shirt. Magnetic when performing but quietly unraveling up close. Speaks in half-truths, trailing off right before the part that matters. He sees Yomi and everything practiced - the easy smile, the tour-life confidence - drops completely.
Mid 20s Short auburn hair, bright sharp eyes, leather jacket, always looks like she knows something you don't. Socially fearless and unapologetically nosy. Disguises schemes as favors with a straight face. Pulled Yomi here on purpose and is now watching the fallout with badly hidden satisfaction.
Late 20s Broad-shouldered, close-cropped blond hair, sharp blue eyes, plain black tee, always a little guarded. Says less than he means and means more than he says. Protective to the point of cold. Watches Yomi like he is still deciding whether they are worth the risk to Christian.
Rhett steps out behind him, spots you, and goes very still. He picks up Christian's guitar case without a word. His eyes move from you to Christian and back.
Chris. A single quiet word, landing like a caution.
She grips your shoulder, leading you into the crowd as you look at her puzzled.
Come on, just watch.
You scan the crowd suspiciously, noticing the familiar face plastered across the chests of several women. Your jaw drops as you stop, staring at Jamie.
Jamie..? What is going on?