Riley: What?

Dawson: Saw the video. You’re dead.

Riley: No, you’re dumb. You should be here with Kiki, not kissing the bitch's ass.

Dawson: Are you showing our texts to Keatie?

Riley: No.

Dawson: I wanted her back for so long. Now finally she’s begging me, saying baby please and all that shit. And I just feel like I need to see.

Riley: Then get off Facebook and go hang out with her. You finally got what you wanted. Enjoy your weekend, bro. I know I am :)

Dawson: You kissed her. I hate you.

Riley: Only on the cheek.

Dawson: FML

Riley: This is what you wanted, remember?

Dawson: Now I don’t know what I want.

Riley turns to me and Dallas, “What should I say?”

Dallas says, “Tell him you think he should watch the video again, then go hang out with Whitney.”

Riley: I think you should watch the video again, bro. Then go hang with Whitney.

Dawson: Can’t watch the video again. Threw my laptop across the room. It's broken.

Riley: Borrow Jake’s. Baby’s already got over 100 hits, and it’s only been online for about 10 minutes. Every guy at school is sitting around simultaneously thinking what a dumb fuck you are and thanking you for being one. I’m out.

Surf the crowd with me.

11:40pm

We’re dropped off at a beachfront mansion and are told that Mr. Moran is in flight and will be arriving late. To make ourselves at home.

When I go in the bathroom to pee, I realize I’m getting my period.

Seriously, Mother Nature? Do you really need to kick me while I’m down? But then again, not getting it would be way worse.

I’m exhausted, so I tell the boys I’m going to bed. I change into a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top and snuggle up under the covers.

I can’t seem to sleep, though. I keep waking up then dozing off. Then waking up again.

This time I wake up because someone is bouncing on the bed.

“Hey, Keats,” Damian says sweetly. “How’s my girl?”

I jump into his arms and try not to cry. “God, I’ve missed you.”

He gives me a squeeze then pushes me back and studies my face. “How are you doing, really?”

“I’m okay, sorta. I’m really glad to be here. To see you. How are you? You look tired. Too many late nights with groupies?”

He gives me a little grin then sprawls flat out across the bed. “Honestly, I’m exhausted. I had to fly commercial, and you know I can never sleep on a plane. I’ve been up for the last twenty-seven hours. So, tell me what happened.”

I tell him all about Dawson. How crazy and amazing the physical side of it was. How that part was so different than it was with B. How I still haven’t talked to B. About the music video we made on the way here.

“That I have to see. Pull it up.”

I pull it up on my phone.

“Damn, girl. Did Dawson see this?”

“Yeah. He said he threw his laptop across the room.”

“You are so going to be in our music video. You look very hot.”

I smile. “Thank you. You don’t think I looked silly?”

“Not at all. You looked like, well, like you became the part.”

“Is that good?”

“It’s very good. Have you ever thought about acting, Keats? I know you’ve always liked writing scripts, but I think you would be an amazing actress. You’ve always been able to shift seamlessly from one situation to the next and fit in. I think that’s why you were having trouble at school. You can play any role you want and convince people that you are the surfer girl, the popular girl, the star’s daughter, the rebel. You really don’t let a lot of people see the real you.”

“You’ve always seen it.”

“Yeah, I know. I love you. All of the yous.” He laughs at his own joke.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“I don’t know? Is it a good one?”

“This is hard for me to admit. I’ve always wanted to be an actress, but . . .”

“But your mom is good at it and you’re afraid you’ll fail?”

“Exactly. And be an embarrassment to the family or something. But, at school, no one knows. So I tried out for the school play. I mean, it’s nothing big, but I got the part that I wanted. And it feels like I have a little part of my life back.”

He studies my face. “Being off by yourself is good for you, isn’t it?”

“In some ways, Damian, it’s incredibly freeing. But I miss my family and I miss my friends.”

“Do you really miss your friends? Like who do you miss?”

“I miss you. And even though I kinda hate B, I miss him. Surprisingly, I miss Vanessa and RiAnne. They may have been catty and superficial, but I knew what to expect from them. And Sander. He was always really good to me, and the best shopping partner ever. I’ve sort of been following news from his set. It sounds like the movie is close to being done. I admire him for having the guts to do what he did. To go for it. I’m proud of him.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“And what about you, Mr. Rock Star? Getting all famous.”

“It’s pretty cool, but it’s tiring. I also understand what you used to talk about. How you played a role at school and sometimes it felt fake. I feel that way sometimes. Like people are all screaming my name and acting like they love me, but they don’t even know me.”

“I think that’s okay. You can have two lives. The image you present to the world, and the you that you are at home. Mom told me the other day that it doesn’t matter what everyone thinks. It only matters what the people you love think. I thought that was pretty good advice.” My mind immediately goes to Aiden. Telling me that he did the dance for the people he loves.

I suddenly feel exhausted.

“I’m really tired,” I tell Damian.

“Me too.”

“Will you sing me the song? Like a lullaby? Maybe you can put us both to sleep.”

He holds his arm out so I can snuggle up on his shoulder.

Damian has been making me feel better since my dad died and lying on his chest makes me feel like no matter how bad things seem, it will all be okay.

He starts singing.

“She's the kind of girl

Everybody wants be.

But no one sees what's inside,

Or that she cries herself to sleep.

But I see, baby, yeah, I see.

She's Miss Popular

Floating with the crowd.

But it all feels so empty

That she wants to scream out loud.

But I see, baby, yeah, I see.

So forget about them,

Come surf the crowd with me . . .”

Saturday, October 15th

The single biggest reason.

10:30am

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I do know that Damian singing to me was so comforting. I haven’t felt that calm and relaxed since before I started dating Brooklyn.

I get up, go out into the kitchen, and find the ingredients to make Damian’s favorite breakfast. Cinnamon French toast and bacon.

Dawson and Riley wake up to the smell and congregate in the kitchen. I take a piece of bacon into the bedroom and wave it under Damian’s nose.

“Your ability to make French toast might be the single biggest reason why we have been friends for so long,” he teases as he takes a big bite of the bacon. “Is that what I smell?”

“Yeah, do you want to get up yet, or do you want me to put it in the warming drawer for later?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost eleven.”

He pops out of bed. “I better get up. We’ll eat, then go out on the boat.”

“Whose house is this? It’s amazing.”

“It’s our record producer’s. He said he hardly ever uses it. Comes to a few Heat games and throws parties a couple times a year, but that’s about it.”

I introduce Damian, my long time friend from grade school, to Riley and Dallas. They hit it off right away. We have fun out in the boat, then come back and sit in the hot tub on the deck overlooking the water.

Damian entertains us with all sorts of stories about touring with the band. The good, the bad, and the groupies. Dallas and Riley particularly love the stories about the groupies.

Now we match.

11:15pm

We get to the club and immediately go backstage, do some shots, get backstage wristbands, and get Damian set up to go. After that, he comes out and dances with us for a while.

About an hour later, it’s time for him to go backstage to prepare for his performance.

“Hey, Riley, I'm going to run to the restroom before he comes on. I’ll be right back.”

I wait in line.

Forever.

No. Like, F-O-R-E-V-E-R.

I didn’t have to go that bad when I got in line, but now I do.

Finally!

I pee.

Then I stop at the bar to get a bottle of water. After the shots we did backstage, I need some water.

I stand on the edge of the dance floor sipping my water and looking for Riley and Dallas. The dance floor is packed.

I’m scanning the crowd when I feel someone move in close behind me.

I’m pretty sure it’s Riley. I start to turn around as he wraps his arms tightly around my waist.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

My heart stops.

I’m face to face with Vincent.

"Aren't you the tricky little minx?" he says. "I've been looking all over for you."

“How did you find me?"

"I followed the breadcrumbs. You toured with him this summer. I heard he was going to be here. Took a chance. So, where are they keeping you?"

"Here in Florida," I lie. "I'm in a witness protection program. So, you found me? You’ve found me a couple times before, but I keep getting away.” I try to make my voice sound like I'm unaffected by him.

But I’m so affected.

I will my body not to treble.

Don’t let him know you’re scared, Keatyn.

Vincent’s still gripping my waist so tightly that I know it’s going to leave a mark.

“You won’t be getting away this time. So here's how it's gonna go down. First, we’re going to dance. You want to be an actress; consider this your biggest role. You're going to dance with me like you were dancing with that boy at your birthday party."

I can't hide the surprise from my face.

Vincent nods, gripping my waist tighter. "Yes. I was watching. Even went to visit him in Oregon. He didn't know a thing. Not even your best friend, Vanessa, seems to know where they've been keeping you. She's quite the fun little distraction though. From what I understand, you left without saying goodbye to your friends."

"I just told you I’m in the witness protection program. Even my family doesn't know where I am.” I put on a French accent and say, "I am a foreign exchange student named Michelle."

"You're not going to say goodbye to anyone tonight either. After we dance, you'll accompany me to my car and we’re going home."

"Home?"

“Yes. We'll start filming immediately. I have everything prepared."

"And what if I scream? There are a lot of people here."

"I have a gun, Abby. If you even move wrong, I'll start shooting. And I'll start with your friend, Damian. He's scheduled to go onstage about now."

The music stops. Damian walks out onto the stage.

I can’t let him kill Damian.

“My name’s not Abby. I’m Keatyn. Don’t you remember that? I’m Abby’s daughter.”

He just grins at me.

The kind of grin that makes my skin crawl.

“We’re going to dance. Now.”

He pulls me out onto the dance floor and pulls me into his arms.

I put my hands on his back but I can't move them.

I can’t make them move. I don’t want to touch him.

Anywhere.

He pulls me in close and runs his hands all over me. Down my back. Cupping my ass. Down the outsides of my thighs.

I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"It feels so good to finally have you in my arms. I heard we just missed each other at Long Beach."

"How do you know that?"

He grins. "I have my ways. And then we met again in New York City. Wasn't that something? Cat and mouse chase through the streets. We may have to add that to the movie. It was very exciting." He pauses. "You're not dancing with me like you did him. Move your hands," he commands.

My mind is going a thousand miles a minute. Don't make a scene here. Just do what he says. Then when he tries to get you out to his car, you can fight him.

Punch him.

Run.

Get the gun.

Something.

The gun. That's it.

I'll get the gun and use it on him.

Where could it be?

In the movies, they always tuck them in the small of their back. I swallow and move my hands. I close my eyes and try to pretend that he's anyone but Vincent.

I run my hands up the inside of his jacket, trying to make it feel sexy and not like a pat down.

"That's it, Abby," he says, smoothing the back of my hair. "God, that feels good."

Shit.

There is no gun in his waistband.

Shoulder harness?

I move my hands back to his chest, work my way up to his collarbone, then move under his arms and down his side.

He shoves his leg between mine, then moves his hands down my body. "I know what you're doing," he whispers.

Shit.

He knows.

"What am I doing?" I say, in my coyest and sexiest voice.