Bad Things (Tristan & Danika, #1)(70)

“And what about Jared? He told me that you promised him you’d come to his next performance.”

“It was more the other way around. I made him promise to tell me when there was one, and he didn’t. You did. I really don’t think Tristan will want me to be there.”

“Well, you’re really wrong. Just come with me. We can watch from the back, then slip out right after they finish. No one will even know we’re there.”

“I know you. You don’t want to slip out right after they finish. You’d want to stay for the party, and I don’t want to be the downer that makes you leave early. And I certainly don’t want to go by myself.”

“Just stop it! You’re coming. I’m driving you. Be decked out in the hottest thing you own by eight p.m. Or else.”

“Or else what?” I asked, honestly curious, now that I knew about her dominatrix alter ego.

“Don’t question the or else! Just be ready in your best, ‘I’m hot and Tristan can eat his heart out’ dress.”

In the end, I barely even considered backing out. I wanted to see them play, and I knew that Decadence would be crowded enough to keep things from getting awkward.

I wore a tiny white dress that didn’t cover up a thing in back, barely covered up a thing in front, and showed off most of my legs. It was risqué, so risqué that I’d only worn it once before, to go out with Tristan. He’d told me it was the sexiest dress he’d ever seen, and so I didn’t even consider anything else. It was a clear choice for ‘eat your heart out, Tristan’ attire. My sexy red heels were another no-brainer, as I was well aware that they drove him crazy, since he’d told me that on more than one occasion.

Bev helped me curl my hair into thick ringlets, and even sat and watched me put on makeup, throwing out suggestions all the while. That was the best thing about Bev; she was unconditionally supportive. I knew she didn’t think I should be going out to see Tristan, but if I was, by God, she’d help me look my best for it.

I went heavy with the makeup; smoky eyes and blood red lips, the combination bringing out the paleness of my skin and eyes.

It was pouring rain outside. It had been all day. But in the midst of a Vegas summer, it was still steaming hot. Still, I didn’t want to get wet just going from the house to Frankie’s car, so I found the biggest umbrella in the house, and made a mad dash for it.

I managed to slide into her car still mostly dry.

She grinned when she saw what I was wearing. “That’s a f*cking perfect dress for making someone eat their heart out. Good job, girl. Gonna give him a heart attack.”

“I just hope he’s not mad that I’m there. He’ll probably think I’m a stage five clinger for showing up.”

“No. Stop worrying about that. He knows that you’re coming, and he’s not mad at all. All of the guys will want you there.”

I didn’t get a load of what Frankie was wearing until we were getting out of the car at the valet station. My eyes widened.

I’d known that she was fond of half-shirts. She worked them like nobody’s business, so much so that I’d found myself trying the style, just hoping I could pull it off half as well.

She’d taken the half-shirt to a new extreme, with a ripped up black shirt that showed a hint of under-boob, black leather shorts that showed more than a hint of butt cheek, and some kick ass black combat boots.

Nearly every piece of skin that she was strategically baring had ink.

“I forgot to tell you something,” she said, looking mischievously happy.

I smiled ruefully, knowing it was going to be something crazy, just from the gleeful look in her eyes. “What?”

She pointed behind me, toward the doors that led into the casino. I turned to see a camera crew converging on us, already obviously taping.

I rolled my eyes.

“I had to get this on camera. It’s good press for the band.”

I saw her point, but still glared at her for the ambush.

She was impervious, grabbing my hand and pulling me with her into the chaos.

I thought wryly that maybe I should have counted my blessings, that she hadn’t subjected me to any camera time before, considering all of the time we’d been spending together lately.

“Who is this new hottie, Frankie?” one of her production guys called out.

“She’s Danika!” Frankie called back, not slowing down.

“Is she your date tonight?”

Frankie just laughed, and I felt myself smiling ruefully. “She’s just a friend. Try to keep up, guys.”

It was the strangest thing, but I did find myself forgetting that the cameras were even there, especially as we made our way into Decadence.

The club was more crowded than I’d ever seen it, but I’d never been there on a live music night before. The enormous, once spacious dance floor had been converted into a writhing mass of humanity, and the guys hadn’t even taken the stage yet.

There was one useful thing about being followed around by a camera crew; people got out of your way.

We moved to a spot about five rows from the stage. The ideal spot to see without being right at the front.

I was surprised when Frankie started bossing the crew around like it was her job.

“One camera on us. You won’t want to miss Danika dancing. I know I don’t. The rest, get on the stage. Get a good spot right under the lead singer.”