Part VII

Rapture and Minx were waiting for Riot in the practice room when Riot entered. Minx was running through the tracks she'd laid for the percussion section of "Take", which they were performing that afternoon on the Lin-Z Pierce show, and Rapture was picking out the bass line on her black Hamer.

"Where have you been?" Rapture asked, tightening a string. "We've been waiting all morning."

"Yes, Riot—you want us to make the best possible impression on the Lin-Z show, yes?" Minx said, not even looking up from her keys. "That means working on this song your paramour concocted for us. We've only performed it a handful of times, and it must be perfect on the air."

Riot could tell that Minx was still pouting over his decision to release "Take" as their next single, rather than the song she had written as the third cut on their next album. He would have to find some way to mollify her, he decided as he lifted his custom BC Rich Mockingbird off its stand. It wouldn't do for their performance to be affected by Minx's hurt feelings.

Given the press and public's reaction to "Take", it had been more logical to strike while the iron was hot. And there was no question that releasing Stormer's song as their next single was the right move at this juncture. Not just for his burgeoning personal relationship—but the band as a whole, no matter how hard it was for Minx to accept. While he knew performing material they had not written themselves was not to his bandmates' taste—indeed, was normally not his own choice either—no matter how Rapture and Minx might feel about Stormer as a person, even they could not deny the song was perfect.

Lindsey Pierce had asked them specifically to perform it live on her show, squeezing them in at the last minute. In her own way, the VJ was striking while the iron was hot as well. And Riot had no qualms about accommodating her, since it was in their mutual best interests. It was no great secret that Pierce made or broke acts in this town. If she hadn't tipped Jerrica Benton off to the Stingers performance at Le Klub Kool, he might not be in the position of power he was today, equal partner in a major record label. After all, it was the rivalry between Jerrica Benton and Eric Raymond that had led to Riot being offered half of Misfits Music. Had Eric not been biologically incapable of losing to Jerrica, Riot was certain he never would have thrown the partnership into the pot, to sweeten the deal.

Pierce also seemed more than willing to promote the Stingers on her show without the need for pesky kick-backs, like some radio stations and television stations had demanded when the Stingers had been an unknown quantity still working to prove themselves. While her long-standing relationship with director Anthony Julian meant she was more than friendly with Benton and by extension, Jem and the Holograms, he'd been gratified to learn that no matter how she personally felt about a group, she judged the music on its own merits. Even the Misfits got considerable airplay on her network, regardless of the number of times Pizzazz had made a spectacle of herself, crashing tapings and occasionally trashing sets.

Riot had never even had to charm his way into the VTV star's good-graces. Pierce was frank almost to the point of bluntness around him, but it was all good-natured and strictly business. She was, above all, a consummate professional. While there had been rumours for years about her and Julian, he suspected their friendship was strictly platonic. And not just because the noted director had been dating, if the gossip rags were to be believed, Shana Elmsford of the Holograms for four years. Unlike Harriet Horn, who had dogged Riot with phone calls for a week after the Stingers concert, Pierce had been content to take hold of the story as it broke. As a result, he was more likely to keep her in the loop than the notorious gossip hound.

"I had a meeting," Riot said as he settled the strap of his guitar over his shoulder. "Mason Hawthorne's band, the Blue Bloods."

"I vaguely remember them," Minx said as her fingers danced across the keys of her synthesiser. "They opened for us in Manchester that one time, didn't they?"

"Manchester?" Rapture frowned. "I don't remember playing Manchester."

"It was when Minx and are were with Nirvana, my dear. I didn't even know they were in the States." Minx shrugged, and Riot could feel Rapture's eyes as he turned towards the keyboardist.

"They've only just arrived. I'm thinking of signing them. That is, if they don't sign with Jerrica Benton's company first."

"Ugh. Jerrica Benton." Rapture shuddered. "What can she possibly offer them that could compare?"

He grinned. "Exactly my thoughts."

"Why meet with them yourself? Don't we have... people for that?" Minx asked, referring to the A&R department.

"Mason is, as much as one can be in this particular business, an old friend," Riot said with a shrug. "I believe a... personal touch would be more effective."

"I barely remember him," Minx said, dismissive. "We played the same venues, what? Twice? Three times, a lifetime ago?"

"They're really very good, actually. They're Hugh Ridley's house band at his club in London, and they've quite the following in Europe. I think they're poised to really break into the American market."

"Riot—you sound like a typical businessman! Just another boring American music executive like the cold fish, Raymond." Minx pouted.

"Have you ever known me to be boring? Or typical?"

"You have an angle," Rapture said with a sly smile.

"Don't I always?" Riot raised a brow, and his flip answer seemed to satisfy them both.

Only he knew the truth.

Certainly the Blue Bloods were talented—there could be no denying that. But Minx was correct. They were hardly the sort of group he personally would go after, rather than leaving such mundane details to the company's representatives. Yet he had contacted Hugh himself, made all the arrangements without consulting Raymond. There was nothing in his contract which stopped him from signing new talent. So he would do as he pleased.

He couldn't help but feel pleased with himself as he began tuning the Mockingbird.

The meeting had gone well—although he'd noted the Blue Bloods drummer had opted not to attend. Mason had just said Craig had personal commitments, and left it at that. But the entire band had become uncomfortable when Riot had asked after Stormer's brother. They'd gone on with the meeting, but Craig was present through his absence. Given how Craig had reacted to Riot's presence at Stormer's house the evening the had arrived, Riot wasn't surprised that Phillips had bowed out.

Still, he hoped the Bloods would take the deal. It would please him. But more than that, it would please her. And that, today in particular, was reason enough for him to do something.

The mellow sound of the bass guitar bounced off the soundproof walls of the studio in the basement of Starlight mansion, as Aja's fingers danced up and down the neck. She skipped from some of the Holograms' old standards, and then slipped into a track off the latest Cure album—not the style she usually played, but she'd been impressed with the sound Smith had coaxed out of his own Fender VI. He'd called it the most perfect sound he could think of—the equivalent of a cello, and as she closed her eyes and felt the music, she had to agree.

As she stilled her fingers on the strings and the last vibration died, she opened her eyes to the sound of clapping. Turning on her stool, Aja saw Craig leaning against the door of the studio, hands still together.

"She sounds great."

"She? Or me?" Aja quirked a brow.

"Both. Are you going to use her onstage?"

"I haven't decided yet. Shana's been playing bass ever since Raya joined the band, so it's not like we really need two, but this baby's a baritone, so..." She frowned, noticing how stiffly he was holding himself, the frown line between his eyebrows that looked like it was permanently etched there. "You didn't come here to ask me about my guitar. What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Craig's shoulders slumped. "I think I really blew it this time."

"Was it your meeting with Jerrica?"

He shook his head. "Jerrica was—is—great. It went really well."

"Then what is it?"

"Mary spent the night with Riot."

Aja winced on his behalf. She remembered how Jerrica had been, when Kimber had got engaged to Jeff. In public, she'd been supportive. But as Kimber's surrogate parent, Jerrica had confided in Aja that she couldn't help but feel she'd failed, somehow. Failed their parents, and failed Kimber, because she hadn't been able to stop her sister from making what had all the earmarks of a spectacular mistake. And that was with Kimber marrying a guy Jerrica actually liked.

"I got on her case about it this morning," Craig continued. "It got ugly, and it was my fault that it got ugly. I totally lost my cool."

"Have you talked to her?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. Mason and the guys think I was too hard on her."

"What do you think?"

"Maybe..." He pulled up a chair, straddling it. "I was all set to apologise, and then Mason dropped the little bomb on me that he and Hugh had arranged a meeting with Riot over at Stinger Sound."

"Oh no. What happened?"

"I didn't go to the meeting. I couldn't stand the idea of sitting in a room with the guy who is taking advantage of my sister, and pretending I don't want to rip his head off. Because I do, babe. God, I just want to beat the crap out of him. How can I sit there and pretend it's all just business?"

"Have you thought about what will happen if the guys sign with Stinger Sound?"

"I just don't know. I love playing with Mason, Alan and James. I really do. And it wouldn't be fair to them, ditching them on the eve of a 12 city tour. But I don't know if I could stay and work with that son of a bitch."

"Well, to be fair, it's not like you'd actually have to work with him."

"Just for him? Thanks. That makes it so much better."

She sighed. "You know what I mean. And anyway, it's not a done deal, right? I mean, Jerrica will make a fair offer—"

"C'mon, babe. You and I both know Riot's not going to play fair." He rested his chin on his crossed arms, and she resisted the urge to muss his hair, as she didn't think he'd particularly appreciate it at that precise moment.

"Mason's not gonna sign with somebody just because they were drinking buddies back in the day," she assured him as she laid the bass in her guitar case and flipped the catches.

"I hope you're right. I may have really blown it, this time. It's not like the guys are kicking me out. But Mason's pretty angry. I guess I don't really blame him. My own personal soap opera could cost the band their shot at a high-profile label. It's not fair."

"You're right. It's not."

"Gee. Thanks." He scowled at her.

Aja took a deep breath, and decided to just dive on in. "Craig, I know you practically raised her. But she's a big girl. And you have your own life to live. You can't keep trying to live hers for her. It's not fair to Stormer, and it's not fair to you."

Aja sighed, and setting the guitar case aside and moved to stand in front of him. She lifted a finger beneath his chin to lift her eyes to hers gently.

"Look, I've seen Jerrica torn up for years over mistakes Kimber has made. Because Kimber is Jerrica's baby sister—and Jerrica hates seeing her hurt. But there comes a point at which you gotta just step back, and allow your siblings to make—and learn from—their own mistakes. If she gets hurt, she gets hurt. And you'll be there for her if and when that happens. But you're right. It's not fair to Mason and the guys, caught in the middle of family stuff."

She watched his face, waiting for the storm-cloud to break—either in thunder, or sunshine. She breathed a sigh of relief as he smiled ruefully and wrapped his arms around her, the back of the chair still between them.

"I'm one lucky bastard, you know that?" His voice was muffled slightly by the fact that his face was pressed into her midsection, and she laughed, giving in to her desire to run her fingers through his hair.

"Yes. And you don't deserve me." She laughed as he turned and pulled her down onto his lap.

"I really don't," he said, planting a soft kiss on her nose. He sighed, his arms tightening around her. "God, sometimes I just can't wait to get back to London. Everything seems so much simpler there."

Aja froze. "London?"

"And there's so much to look forward to," Craig continued. "I've spent the last year thinking 'I can't wait to show Aja...' every time I've passed a street corner café, or a statue in a park. I know you'll love it."

"Craig—I don't know what to say. I can't—I can't move to London."

He looked at her blankly for a second, confusion written across his face. "Well, I don't mean right away. We've got an album to cut, and a tour—"

She shook her head. "No, I mean... I can't move to London. I can't leave the band."

"Aja, I'm not expecting you to pack up and take off tomorrow."

She pulled herself out of his arms, which had felt so welcoming just a moment ago but now seemed too confining. "But you are expecting me to pack up and take off. And I can't do that."

He stood and laid his hands on her shoulders. "Look, we don't have to decide this today."

"Well, we have to talk about it eventually. I mean, we got engaged, but we've never really talked about it. And we need to. Especially if it involves our futures with our bands."

He shrugged. "It's just a job. We're musicians. We can work anywhere. All that matters is we're together. Whether that's LA or the UK—"

She stepped away from him, feeling a painful tightness starting in her chest. "That's not the point. It may be 'just a job' for you, but Craig, I'm not just in this band for fun. Or fame. I've got people who rely on me—the money Jem and the Holograms bring in supports Starlight House. Those kids count on us."

"Aja, if we went back to London, the Holograms could find a new bass player. It's not like you'd be running out on them. Jerrica would understand. We could talk to her about it, give her plenty of time to hold auditions—"

She shook her head, fighting the panic that was threatening to engulf her. "It's more complicated than that."

"How? When Shana left, you auditioned for a new drummer. If Shana can go off and do her own thing, then so could you. If you wanted to."

She swallowed, feeling her universe start to crumble at his words and his tone. She couldn't tell him why without going back on her promise to Jerrica. They had to be so careful who knew Jem's secret, and it wasn't her decision to make. But she could feel Craig pulling away from her, and it hurt like hell.

"It's more than just the responsibility—Craig, I love playing with the Holograms. They're my sisters. I can't just skip out on them."

"For some guy." The storm she'd feared moments before had finally hit the shore, and he turned away from her, hurt and anger coming off him in waves.

Aja laid her hand on his shoulder, and tried to get him to face her. "That's not what I'm saying. You're not just 'some guy'. You could never be just some guy."

"Then why are you treating me like one?" he snapped, and she had to force herself not to step back, out of reach.

"I'm not! Look, we can talk about this, figure something out—

"Why bother talking? You've obviously already made up your mind. Being a Hologram is more important to you than being my wife. I get it." He shrugged off her hand on his arm.

"Craig..." Aja blinked back sudden tears, her throat so tight she felt as if she couldn't breathe. "Craig, please. Dot be this way."

"Hey, it was fun while it lasted, right, Gorgeous?" he said from the doorway, before he turned and left Aja all alone in the practice room, tears sliding down her cheeks unchecked. She was frozen for a few seconds in shock, before she took off after him.

Jerrica was pulling up to Starlight Mansion in the Roadster just as Craig's rental car pulled out of the driveway. She waved, but he didn't even seem to see her.

"Craig!" Aja called after him from the doorway of the mansion, and Jerrica hurried out of her car as she saw the tears streaking her cheeks. "Craig, wait!"

"Aja? What's happening? Are you okay?"

Aja, who was always so sure of herself and so strong, fell into her arms crying.

"I've lost him. Oh, Jerrica, this time I've really lost him."

Even with Kimber as her own personal cheerleader, Stormer was still a basket-case of jangled nerves as she pulled into her driveway. Now that she'd made the decision to come clean, she should have felt relieved. As if a huge weight had been taken off her shoulders.

Instead, she was becoming more and more apprehensive about facing Pizzazz. She mentally went over the scene in her mind, as she dug through her purse for her keys.

It just happened. I wasn't trying to hurt you. Hurting you is the last thing I ever wanted...

Sometimes, you find yourself in a situation where something you never could have pictured in a million years suddenly just seems so right...

It's just sex. Really, really fantastic sex.

Almost all of the various scenarios ended with Pizzazz, please put the gun down.

The sky above her was grey, as if to match her mood. The morning's rain still pooled on the asphalt and moisture hung in the air like a curtain. She frowned as she turned the key, but the door wouldn't budge. It always stuck when it rained, and one of these days, she was going to have to get it fixed. But up until recently, she hadn't had much of a budget for repairs. It was just one more thing low on her laundry list of priorities. In truth, she'd rather be holed up in the studio composing than having to deal with mundane realities like utility bills and contractors. She felt like she was too young to have to be a grown-up all the time, even if she was inordinately proud of her grown-up achievements and financial independence after years of ramen noodles and sleeping in cheap studio apartments or on someone's couch.

She sighed, giving the door a solid push with her hip. It swung inward, and she froze at the sight which greeted her.

Her living room was full of flowers.

Red roses, to be exact. She stood in the doorway, gaping for a moment. Long-stemmed roses overflowed from cut glass vases and bowls, mason jars and plastic pitchers scattered on every available surface. The air was thick with their perfume.

"They started coming about an hour ago," Mason's voice came from the couch, and Stormer nearly jumped out of her skin. A book lay open in his lap, and the coffee table held a few empty beer bottles and an ashtray.

"Where're the guys?"

"James and Alan went over to Rock Hard, to check on the set-ups for Friday. Then afterwards, I think they were going out to dinner with Raya and Lela and some of the kids. I just wasn't much in a party mood."

"Where's Craig?"

"We, ah... fell out. Had a huge row in the lift at Starlight, actually. I haven't seen him since. He's probably over with Aja, staying out from under our feet for a bit. Having a sulk. You know Craig. He's got a temper, but he'll come to his senses, just you see."

"Come to his senses about Riot, you mean?"

Mason ran a hand through his hair and smiled sheepishly. "Truth? I don't think he's ever going to think any guy you date is good enough for you. Present company included." He winked.

Stormer blushed. "Mason—"

"We fell out over the way he treated you, and frankly, the way he treated us." He sat forward, his expression suddenly serious. "Craig's one of me best mates, but he's got to learn he can't just offer up ultimatums to people. Not if he wants to keep them as his friends."

Stormer felt her stomach lurch with dread. "You wouldn't... you're not gonna kick him out of the band, are you?"

"Course not, he's family. Only family I've got. I'd never do that," he assured her. "This is important, this trip. For all of us, not just him. He needs to remember that, is all I'm saying. And before I forget..." He reached over and picked up a creamy white envelope from the kitchen counter. "This came with the flowers."

She ripped the envelope open, holding the card close to her chest so Mason couldn't read it, feeling heat flood her cheeks.

These blooms cannot even compare to your beauty.

Until tonight.

R.

"You really fancy him, don't you," he said softly.

"Yeah. If you'd asked me, this time last year, if I'd ever even give him the time of day, let alone... But yeah. I think I really do."

"Then it doesn't matter what Craig thinks about him. You do what makes you happy, and who knows? Maybe Craig will figure out that Rory makes you happy, and that's all that matters."

And you take, and you take, and you take, and you take

And you take it all and I take the fall

In your voice and your eyes I look for the prize

But you smile and you lie and I don't know why...

Why

Why

Why...

As the last few notes of the Stingers' song faded, the camera pulled in close on Lindsey Pierce's bright smile.

"That was the Stingers at Studio B, performing their latest single, 'Take'. Remember, you heard it here first, VTV fans!"

"Cut!" Lindsey's director Kyle called.

"Great work," Lindsey grinned at Riot as a PA helped her remove her body-mic. "I think this single's gonna be the hottest thing yet. Any idea when you'll have the music video out?"

Riot bussed her cheek with a quick kiss. "I'd love to stay and talk shop, but I'm afraid I have a pressing appointment."

"What appointment?" Minx asked, surprised.

"I have to see a man about some 'ice'," Riot said absently as he checked his watch. "I'll meet you back at the studio, before the party. Don't worry—I'll have Rochelle send the car back for you."

"Riot!" Rapture called after his retreating back, but he just held up a hand and continued striding through the studio's double doors.

"So, any truth to the rumour that you plan on another collaboration with Stormer of the Misfits?" Lindsey asked as she escorted Minx and Rapture back to the green room so they could take off their stage make-up.

"Hardly. We usually write our own material," Minx said, her tone cool.

"And the only 'collaborating' Riot's interested in has nothing to do with music," Rapture said with a bitter laugh as she closed her eyes and let the make-up artist swab her cheeks with cold cream. "I'm sure once he gets what he wants, that little partnership will be over—" she clicked her fingers, "like that."

"Rapture," Minx hissed.

"Hey, I'm into rock news, not gossip." Lindsey's tone was friendly, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm more than happy to tell the world when the ink's dry on a contract, but what happens behind closed doors or between the sheets—that's not my bag. I'm more than happy to let Harriet Horn host that particular barbecue."

Minx waited until they were safely in the back of the Stinger Sound limo before turning on Rapture, her manicured fingernails digging into her bandmate's arm.

"What do you think you're doing back there?"

"Please." Rapture's voice dripped scorn. "Like I care? I'm getting really tired of Riot's little infatuation with that... that Misfit at the expense of his own band. It's bad enough he has us recording her little ditty. But now all anyone wants to hear about is will she be writing our entire album for us? Will she be joining the group? Stormer this and Stormer that. I'm sick of it, Minx. I want the old Riot back."

Minx sighed. "Look, I'm not any happier about having to record it than you are, but the song's good. You heard the crowd at the concert—they loved it. It's got us a lot of good publicity right now. And it's just a one-time thing."

"Oh, you think so, do you? You don't think tomorrow, or next week, or next month he won't be pushing some other song on us that his new pet has penned for us? Don't you remember how miserable we were, when we had to play with the Misfits?"

"This isn't like that. He hasn't left us."

"Hasn't he? Where is he now? Running off to buy trinkets for her. This is supposed to be our big day. But all he can think about is her."

"Riot's our leader."

"So we just blindly follow, is that it?" Rapture wrenched her arm from Minx's death grip. "Wake up, Minx. If this is all just a game, then why are we being left in the dark while he has all the fun, hmmm? It's Jem all over again. It's just a matter of time before we wake up and find he's taken off, panting after this new bitch. Again. And leaving us to fend for our own. Just you wait and see."

"What's got into you? You're going on like some jealous harpy. And frankly, Rapture, it's getting a bit boring." She hit the intercom. "Stop the car."

"Where are you going?" Rapture asked as the driver eased the stretch Lincoln over to the closest sidewalk.

"I'll walk. I need the fresh air. And if you know what's good for you, you'll stop all this nonsense before word gets back to Riot."

She slammed the car door, breathed in a lungful of smog-filled air, and wished she hadn't given up smoking.

"I hate Los Angeles," Minx muttered beneath her breath as she made for the closest taxi stand.

"Go away."

Through the bedroom door, Jerrica could hear Aja's muffled sobs, and she leaned against the wall, tears pricking her own eyes. Jerrica knocked on Aja's door lightly. "Aja, it's me."

The door opened, and Jerrica saw her best friend's tear-stained face for a second as Aja turned and threw herself back on her unmade bed, her light-blue tinted hair falling to cover her face as she buried her face in the pillows.

Jerrica perched on the edge of the bed, reaching over to gently rub Aja's back. "I know Craig has a temper, but he'll come around. He always does."

Aja rolled over, still clutching the pillow to her chest. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from crying. "Not this time. I think it's really over. He wouldn't even look at me."

"What set him off?"

"He was so upset—he had a huge fight with his sister this morning over Riot."

"A fight with Stormer?" Jerrica couldn't keep the surprise from her voice. "But why—"

"Why do you think?" Aja asked with a bitter laugh. "Stormer slept with Riot."

Jerrica tried to hide her reaction, but she needn't have bothered. Aja was staring at the coverlet, her hands tracing the pattern of the bedspread absently.

"Craig was feeling pretty lousy over the way he reacted. He was so upset, when he came over. I thought it would just blow over, but then... then he started going on about how everything would be different once we moved back to London."

"London?" Jerrica felt all the blood drain from her face, and her hands suddenly tingled with cold. She couldn't imagine the Holograms without Aja. She realised with a start she hadn't really come to terms with what Aja's marriage to Craig would mean.

"He just thinks I can pick up and go—just like that. When I told him I couldn't, he just completely lost it." Aja drew her knees up to her chest, and wiped away fresh tears with the heel of her hand.

"Have you thought about going?" Jerrica asked, trying to keep her voice level. Of course Aja would leave, to start her new life with her husband. It had just been a mythical "someday" that Jerrica had avoided thinking about precisely because she would miss her adopted sister so much. It hadn't occurred to her someday would arrive so soon.

"I don't know—it's all just happened so fast. I was just starting to get used to the idea of marrying him. We never really talked about the future. And you know how Craig is—it's all or nothing, with him."

Jerrica frowned. "Handing you an ultimatum—that isn't fair."

"Maybe he's right," Aja said softly, resting her chin on her knee. "Maybe I don't really love him enough. I mean, this fantastic guy—better than anything that's ever happened to me in my life. And I just gave him the brush off."

"Aja, that's not fair. He put you on the spot. He had no right to do that, and then to storm off without evening listening to what you had to say—"

"What could I have said, Jerrica?" Aja cried, and Jerrica flinched from the sudden anger in her voice as Aja uncoiled her legs and slid off the bed, pacing in the narrow space between the bed and the desk. "That we can't just find another bass player, because my best friend uses a space-age hologram to hide her identity?"

"This isn't about Synergy—"

Aja turned away from her, her shoulders shaking. "Yes it is. It always is."

Jerrica stood, one hand gripping the bedpost because she was worried that her legs would buckle under her. "I had no idea you felt this way," she said quietly.

"Well, now you know." Aja turned back to face her, and Jerrica recognised the determined set of her jaw, the inflexible stance. "I'm loyal to this family, Jerrica. But you can't ask me right now if that loyalty is worth losing him. Okay? Just don't ask me, 'cause right now, I'm not so sure."

Jerrica mirrored Aja's posture, arms crossed, head held high. "So you want me to go public? Is that it? Open up my father's legacy to the world, so Synergy can be used as a weapon?"

"You could have told Craig. You would have, if he'd won the contest instead of Raya. This was never about Emmett's work. Or Synergy being safe. It's about you protecting your secret from Rio."

Jerrica drew back from the accusation in her voice as if she'd been slapped.

"I never asked you to lie to Craig."

"You lie to Rio every day, and you just expect us all to back you up. But I'm tired of it, Jerrica. I'm just really tired of all of it. And I want to be alone. So I think you'd better go now, before we both say things we'll regret."

Jerrica got up, numbness spreading through her chest as she stumbled to the door. "Aja, I'm sorry."

"Just get out."

The plan was for the Misfits to rendezvous at the Gabor mansion, and take a hired limo to the show. Pizzazz wanted to arrive in style. Since Stormer was pretty sure her little orange hatchback wasn't what anyone would call stylish, she had no issues leaving it at the mansion overnight. Roxy's motorcycle was already parked in the garage, tucked between two of Mr Gabor's vintage cars, sleeping beneath their tarps when Stormer pulled into the driveway, and killed the engine.

Pizzazz had asked the Misfits to wear black, no doubt so she would stand out in whatever dress she wore. Stormer didn't mind. The idea of blending into the background was very appealing. Plus, she thought with a rueful smile, bloodstains wouldn't show nearly as much on black. She had chosen a black sheath dress cut low in the back, pairing it with a tailored cropped jacket, and pumps. She checked her make-up in the mirror one last time and was gripped by a sense of déjà vu. Her fingers strayed to the rosebud tucked behind her ear, wondering idly how the rose she'd left at Riot's that morning was fairing.

Blood rushed to her cheeks as she remembered what it had been like to wake up in Riot's bed. It had been years she had actually spent the night with a man, and it had been very different to roll over and find Riot staring at her, than it had been with Angus. Angus had been sweet, and she never regretted going to bed with him because they had genuinely cared for one another and he had probably been the sweetest guy she'd ever fallen for. They had been friends, and they had been lovers, but she knew she hadn't really been in love with him. She had just wanted so badly to be loved, and Angus had held her almost in awe. She had basked in his attention because it made her giddy to think someone actually wanted her for her. Having spent years on his island, Angus hadn't known her as Stormer of the Misfits—a world-renowned rock band. He had just seen her as a beautiful girl he wanted to get to know better, and that had been a feeling she hadn't wanted to let go of.

They had had some good times, and a lot of fun, but when Angus had told her he wanted to head out again, see more of the world, she hadn't been shattered. Far from it. She'd seen him off at the airport with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and she'd expected to fall apart in tears on the drive home but instead was surprised to admit that while she had enjoyed being with him, and would miss him as a friend, her feelings went no further than that.

It was different with Riot. Part of it was the danger—the fear of being found out added an edge that she knew she shouldn't find so attractive, but couldn't deny. Craig had accused her in the past of falling for bad boys who used her, and she had to admit that some of the jerks she'd dated in high school and afterwards, before she'd become a Misfit, sure fit that bill. But there was something different about the way Riot was with her. He pushed her to be more independent, more self-reliant, stand up for herself and her music. He wasn't the first person to do that—Craig and Kimber certainly in the last year. And it was true, in ways she wasn't always comfortable, but the truth was he wasn't using her. It was almost as if he was encouraging her to use him.

"Nobody's using anybody," she told her reflection. "And nobody's going to get hurt. Not if I can help it."

She had barely touched the doorbell when Jetta jerked the door open.

"Hey, am I late?" Stormer asked, confused, as Jetta grabbed her by the arm and instead of the two of them heading up the marble stairs to Pizzazz's room, steered her into the empty dining room.

"What's going on?" Stormer asked as Jetta pulled the door firmly shut. Roxy was leaning against the table, her white-blonde hair held back from her face with a stiff coating of hairspray and a black scarf tied in a knot behind one ear, the ends trailing over the sheer sleeves of her tight black dress.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Now, Roxy, let's not deviate from the plan," Jetta whispered fiercely, touching Roxy's shoulder.

"Screw the plan!" Roxy shook her off angrily, and turned on Stormer. "Jesus, Stormer, Riot of all people?"

Stormer felt all the blood drain from her face, and she practically swayed on her feet.

"I don't—I don't know what you're talking—"

"Can the bullshit. Me and Jetta saw you last night. At Riot's building." Roxy crossed her arms and Stormer almost flinched from the force of her glare.

Jetta sighed, and carefully got between the two of them. "Saw you go in, ducks—and not come out. We're concerned, that's all. Aren't we, Roxy?" she prompted.

"Yeah. Mainly concerned that if Pizzazz finds out, she'll kill you."

Stormer licked her dry lips, eyes straying towards the door. "I'm going to tell her. Tonight, after the show."

"What?" Jetta's mouth dropped open in shock, just as Roxy chorused, "Are you suicidal?"

"I—I'm going to tell her," Stormer repeated, backing up a step from the murderous look in Roxy's eyes. "I already made up my mind, and Riot and I talked about it and—"

"You can't tell her, you idiot," Roxy said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Just dump the guy, and pray she never finds out."

"What? No. No, I'm not going to dump him."

"It might be for the best," Jetta said, touching Stormer's arm sympathetically. "Swan off, make a clean break. Before anybody gets hurt, yeah?"

"Before you get hurt, you mean." Stormer flinched away from her touch as if it burned. "You don't care about me! You just want to make sure Pizzazz doesn't find out!"

"Damn straight," Roxy growled. "The band's finally got its shit together. But no. You have to go and fuck everything up by sleeping with the enemy—"

"He's not the enemy!"

"Since when?" Roxy demanded. "From the second the guy hit town, he's been nothing but trouble for us. And last time I looked, he still looked at us like a piece of shit he was scraping off his shoe. So what the hell has changed, huh? What the hell did he do that suddenly you're his biggest fan?"

"How 'bout he believed in me," Stormer shot back. "When Eric sold me out, and Pizzazz just laughed at me, Riot was the one who made me stand up to Eric. Who got Eric to renegotiate my contract. A fair contract. And there was nothing in it for him."

"Except some free Misfit tail apparently." Roxy's lip was curled in a sneer.

"That's not what it was like!"

"Then what was it like? Champagne and flowers? Unicorns and rainbows? Jesus, Stormer, we're talking about Riot here!"

"I didn't plan it—I didn't! It just... happened. And I'm not sorry it happened, and you can't make me." Stormer threw up her hands in a gesture of utter frustration. "Why can't anybody just be happy for me? Just this once?"

"Oh, I don't know. Could it possibly be because the guy's an asshole who almost tore our group apart for good? Could that be it?"

Roxy crossed her arms and glared at Stormer, and beside her Jetta mirrored her posture.

"C'mon, you guys. He's not like that. I mean, not anymore. He's... different."

"Riot is as he ever was, ducks. Looking out for number one. And if you were smart, you'd do the same."

"Jetta's right—even if Mr Perfect doesn't mess you up? Pizzazz will, when she finds out you're poaching."

"I'm not poaching!"

"If you're so okay with this whole thing, then why'd you keep it a secret, huh? You coulda told us. You could've told me."

Stormer blanched. "I was going to—you have to believe me. I was."

"Yeah. Sure. Does Kimber Benton know?"

"That's not fair."

"I thought so."

"Roxy!" Stormer stepped towards her, but Jetta stepped between them.

"Keep it down, you two," she whispered fiercely at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

"You're always talking about how we gotta hang together, how we are a family and all that mushy crap. But you've got new friends now—who needs Roxy when you've got the Benton brat? Why don't you just join the Holograms, while you're at it? One big happy fucking family."

"Roxy, it's not like that—" Stormer began, but Jetta's grip on her arm became painful.

"Muzzle it," she whispered as Pizzazz threw open the doors to the dining room, framing herself in the doorway dramatically.

"How do I look?"

"Like a freaking geisha on a bender," Roxy said before Jetta could stop her.

Pizzazz's hair was shellacked into something approximating a giant cinnamon bun, adorned with plastic cherry blossoms and a pair of clear plastic chopsticks. The electric green kimono barely came to the top of Pizzazz's thighs, but trailed a long stiff drape of silk behind her. The red sash wound around her waist held the deep V neckline closed—barely—and Stormer could see her zebra-print bustier beneath when she moved. Topping off the garish ensemble were platform heels that looked like they belonged on a drag queen.

"It's a Yaki Tori original."

"It's original alright," Jetta muttered beneath her breath.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Pizzazz growled, oblivious to the anger coming off Roxy in waves. "The limo's outside. We can't keep Riot waiting!"

"Oh no, we can't keep Riot waiting." Roxy stomped outside, slamming the door so loudly it echoed through the marble hall.

"Maybe I should sit tonight out," Stormer said weakly.

"Oh no. You're going. And the second we get there, you are telling Himself this charade is over, you hear me? Before Pizzazz finds out. And maybe we can get out of this mess before it all goes pear-shaped."

"Jetta—I can't. I won't."

"Oh, you will." Jetta's grey eyes were flat and unforgiving as she steered Stormer towards the door. "You know what happens when Pizzazz has to choose between us and him. You think it was bad before? We might never recover from this."