at Brenda. “What was that?”
She was looking past me, off to the side of the stage where people were entering. There, a pair of blue eyes that sliced at me so fucking painfully . Sean Cooper was smiling, saying something to that big drummer of his. “A replacement,” Brenda said gently. “Maybe, if Lola doesn't show... I could convince Sean to play with you guys instead.”
“It might work,” Colt mumbled.
Sean sensed me, how I was sizing him up. I studied how he looked over, noting me, the rest of my band... and then how his eyebrows furrowed.
He noticed Lola isn't here.
Pushing forward, I stomped his way. Behind me, I heard the distressed groan from Brenda. Her heels clattered, chasing close behind. “Hey,” I said, shutting the conversation—whatever the other band had been on about—up instantly. Barbed Fire turned as one, no love on their faces.
“Hey.” Sean hesitated, saying more with his silence than anything.
“Sean, we—” Brenda began.
“Lola,” I blurted, and my tension became the sharp rust of fear. I caught it reflected on his face. “Have you seen her today?”
His jaw straightened. “No. Why, what's wrong? Where is she?”
Panic boiled through my limbs, made my voice a hiss. “That's just it. I don't know, I don't fucking know. When did you last see her?”
“Oh,” Shark laughed, elbowing Sean. “Shit, isn't this familiar? Hey, fucker, how does it feel to wonder where—”
“Shut up, Shark.” Not looking at the drummer, Sean stared me in the eye. “You're telling me she's missing? Have you tried calling her?”
I lifted my phone out, debated throwing it, for all the good it had done me. “She won't answer anyone.”
“She might show up,” Brenda said. My manager looked up at the guitarist, gauging him as she spoke cautiously. “Whatever her reasons, she isn't here. Sean, I need to—this is hard to ask. Look, this show tonight is huge. If Headstones doesn't play, I don't know what will happen.” Taking a deep breath, she tugged at the ends of her hair. “You know some of their songs, don't you? Would you—worst case—consider filling in for Lola?”
My neck creaked, it was like fighting through drying concrete. My shock kept me from finding words. I knew Brenda was avoiding looking at me for a reason. There was absolutely no way I would play with Sean. Outside of how I felt towards him, the reality was that Lola was missing. Not off playing some game, not sulking or trying to fuck us over.
She was gone .
If Brenda thinks I'd play tonight, in any capacity, without knowing the girl I love is safe and sound, she's...
“No.”
I'd have whiplash before the night was over. Sean had spoken up, but it wasn't the answer I expected.
Narrowing his eyes, he looked from Brenda to me. “It's not that I wouldn't... fuck. I'd love the chance to headline. Seriously.” He gave his head a quick shake. “But no. How can I do anything but help find my sister?”
I fought down an odd swell of pride for the guy.
“I—but...” Brenda was at a loss.
“You'll help me look?” I asked.
Sean closed his eyes, breathing through his nose. “Of course. It doesn't make sense for her to just run off like this.”
“That's what I said!” Righteousness fueled my voice, made me slam my fist into my open palm. “I've felt that way since I saw her hotel room this morning! There's no way she did all that damage.”
His mouth went slack. “Her room was messed up?”
“Broken television, broken table, stuff I can't picture Lola doing. I think something happened to her, I just don't have a clue what!”
Slow as sap, he glided his fingers through his hair. “I think I do.” At my wide-eyed, hopeful stare, Sean grimaced. “There's a very good chance that Johnny Muse did something to her.”
Johnny Muse.
My throat was closing.
The ringing in my ears was deafening. I hardly heard Brenda speaking beside me, frantic as she was. “I'm calling the cops right
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley