“Nah, I haven’t see him, but the meet and greet is starting soon, so he’s probably talking to the radio people.”

That made sense. The local radio stations always had contests that allowed people backstage access, where they were free to talk to us and take pictures. It used to be all formal and shit when Sienna Sexton was running the show, but now people just kind of meandered backstage like they were checking out some weird zoo for rock stars. And over there on your left is the mythical one-eyed beast of Cockistan. Legend has it, the creature only comes out when properly aroused. Let’s see if we can awaken it, shall we?

“Oh, okay.” I patted Justin on the shoulder and started to leave, but he stopped me with a question.

“Hey, you’re friends with Kate, right?”

I shrugged. “Kind of. Why?”

Like a red stage light was being directed toward him, Justin’s face started shifting colors. “Uh, well, we’ve been together awhile now, and I was thinking of stepping things up. Maybe asking her to move in with me.”

Raising an eyebrow, I told him, “You want to ask her to move to L.A.? Don’t bother, she won’t. Her life is in Seattle, dude.” Giving him a sympathetic smile, I told him the hard news that as a friend I had no choice but to deliver. “You’re better off dumping her and scoring someone who lives in your town.” I snapped my fingers as an idea came to me. “Brooklyn Pierce, that chick with big knockers from that futuristic space show. She’s gotta live somewhere around there and she’s fucking hot. Dump Kate and date her. Problem solved.”

Justin looked dumbfounded as I smacked his arm and walked away. It might take him a minute, but eventually he’d see that I was right. Him and Kate weren’t meant to be, but him and Brooklyn…damn, she was smokin’. I couldn’t wait to double date with them. Lucky bastard.

When I found Kellan, he was waist-deep in contest winners. They were all around him, and Kellan was smiling as he shook hands, signed autographs, and answered questions. The fans were squealing, giggling, and in some cases, crying. Girls. Such a strange species.

Knowing they wouldn’t mind me manhandling them, I started elbowing my way through the crowd. Surprisingly though, they gave me dirty looks, like they didn’t know who I was or why I was intruding on their place in line. Weird. I’d expected to get groped along the way. Oh well.

“Let me through, I need to talk to Kellan,” I said, pushing past a trio of girls.

“Wait your turn, dude,” one of them replied. She was wearing a KELLAN KYLE IS MY ROCK GOD T-shirt, so I figured she was blind to the rest of us “rock gods.”

Narrowing my eyes, I told her, “I’m in the band, and I need to speak to Kellan…my bandmate.” Just saying it irritated me. Kellan fan or not, this chick should know me on sight.

She scoffed, like she thought I was blowing smoke out my ass. I was about to set her straight, about several things, when someone in front of her said, “No, no, he is in the band. Drummer, right?” she asked. The pigtails in her hair made her look four. Maybe that was why she didn’t know my instrument. She was still learning what all the different pieces were.

“Bass,” I muttered, shoving my way around them.

Kellan finally noticed the commotion and swung his head my way. It took some jostling, but I finally worked my way through the obsessed K. K. crew to get to him. He didn’t seem happy to see me. “Oh, hey, Griff. Here for the meet and greet? I thought I saw a couple girls wearing Griffin shirts heading down the hall. I bet you can catch up to them if you hurry.”

I was getting battered from behind by his overeager fans, but I ignored them and his comment. “What did the guys say about tonight? ’Cause I had this awesome idea—”

“Yeah, about that…” Kellan grabbed a pen from a fan and started signing a CD case. “I talked to the guys and they feel…well, we feel that tonight isn’t a good night. We need to sit down and plan something first…work it into the lineup. We’ve already got a set plan, you know?” He handed the case back to the fan, then looked up at me. Giving me a dismissive pat on the shoulder, he added, “Maybe tomorrow night, okay? We’ll talk later, when it’s not so crazy.” Grabbing another pen, he started signing something else.

My jaw dropped, and I lost my place in line as the Kellan fans pushed me back. Within minutes, I was on the outside of the circle looking in. Tomorrow? That sounded like a million hours from now. Why the hell couldn’t we just try something tonight? Why the hell couldn’t we wing it? Made no sense to me.

Just as I was debating it, a girl beside me handed me a Sharpie. “You’re with the band, right?”

Frowning, I grabbed the pen. “I am the band,” I told her. Looking confused, she glanced between Kellan and me. Sighing, I grabbed the glossy photo she had in her hand. It was of Kellan, but I signed it anyway—right across his face. The fan looked at the signature like she didn’t recognize it. She thanked me, but her look of confusion didn’t lessen. She had no clue who I was. What the fuck?

Behind me, a couple of girls started giggling. I turned around and they smiled at me with crimson faces. “Oh my God, it’s you. Hand Solo!”

I gave them a sly grin. Finally, someone who recognized me. “At your service,” I said, faking jacking off. I even ended the gesture with an explosion. They squealed and covered their eyes.

After they recovered, one of them stepped forward. She was tall and thin, and the D-Bags shirt she was wearing looked like it had been molded right onto her it was so tight. “You’ve got to sign my shirt,” she stated.