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asked the same thing of Garrett and Danny.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, took them out again, the air around him jittery with his nervous energy. “We’re cramming a lot into forty-eight hours to get this done so there’s no margin for error here. You’re not letting…stuff screw with your head, right? What we talked about after rehearsal the other day?”

Marc bit back a retort. He hoped he hadn’t made a mistake talking to Rick about Music Lady. “This video has been my focus, Rick. I know writing the script is a huge responsibility and it makes me feel great you guys trust me to do this.”

“That’s because you’re very good at it. You really have the length and timing down pat, and you get creative with the stage directions. That’s what makes our videos so good.”

For just a moment tension shimmered between them. Was that a real compliment or was Rick patronizing him? Suddenly losing confidence in him?

Quit imagining things. Rick is just doing his leader of the band thing.

“People have no idea how complicated it can get to produce a three-to-five minute video. I know we’re a little on edge with this particular one because of what it can mean.”

“Which is why we’ve walked through it so many times this week,” Rick reminded him.

“So then have faith in us. In me. I’m good to go, Rick. I’m a professional. You should know that by now. Besides, I know Jado’s giving us a dirt-cheap rate so I want him to know I appreciate it.

“Just making sure.”

He might have said more but Jado was suddenly next to Marc, hooking him up with a tiny mic that would be invisible to the cameras.

“As usual,” he reminded Marc, “don’t worry about the quality of this soundtrack. This is just to sync with the real tracks you’ll lay down tomorrow. “

Marc grinned. “Thanks, Jado. Cause this is my first time doing this, right?”

Jado clapped him on the shoulder. “Just covering all my bases, guy. This one’s pretty important, and we want to make sure every detail is covered. No sweat.”

“He knows it,” Rick said. “He’s just being his smartass self. We’re set to begin at Scotty’s studio tomorrow at ten in the morning. You worked out the details of the final product with him?”

Jado laughed. “Yes, Mr. Obsessive. When he’s finished the mix of the sound tracks, he’ll bring it here and the two of us will finish up. Don’t worry. You’ll get a quality finished piece out of this, my man.” Jado winked at Rick and walked back to his equipment.

Marc looked at his friend. “We’ll be fine, Rick. We rehearsed our asses off this week on this. And everyone’s psyched about it.”

He lifted his guitar case out of the Jeep, and they headed over to where the other band members waited. Marc knew they could do this. No doubt about it. There was a magic to the way the four of them blended that made them top sellers in the city’s rock clubs. Now it was important to make sure it would translate to a big concert stage. And the best part was there wouldn’t be a lot of time to think about Music Lady.

He hoped.

“Okay, everyone,” Rick called. “Get tuned up.” He inclined his head toward a place at the edge of the trees. “Jado’s marked the spots where he wants us to start. So, let’s do it.”

***

“I’m telling you, you’re a fool if you don’t go back there tonight,” Annie said, popping a potato chip in her mouth.

She and Emma were lying on loungers in Emma’s backyard and indulging themselves in junk food and sweet tea. Emma had rehashed the conversation with her folks and her confrontation with Andrew until she was sick of the sound of her own voice. But she was stuck on two things: why had it taken her thirty years to wake up and smell the roses, and how could she put her anger at Andrew to rest?

Annie, of course, was more interested in coaxing her back to Aftershock.

“I don’t think I can explain it to you,” Emma said. “I can hardly explain it to myself. But Marc is…is…larger than life. There’s so much raw masculinity, so much energy surrounding him that everyone and everything else fades into the background. Annie, when he’s up on stage, really into his music, he’s in another world. I see the crowd so mesmerized by him, the excitement he generates, and I wonder what in hell I’m doing there.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’d say having a good time.” Annie crunched on another chip.

Emma chewed her bottom lip, frustrated. These days, she didn’t seem to be doing a good job of explaining her emotions about anything to anyone.

“Sometimes it’s like I’ve walked into the set of a movie,” she said slowly. “By mistake. And while Marc has made me welcome, I worry any minute he’s going to discover it’s—this, us—is all a big mistake and the whole thing will disappear.” She swatted at a fly buzzing around her head. “I’m nothing like the women he’s used to being with.”

“How do you know what kind of women he hangs with? Please don’t tell me he’s low class enough to talk about them.”

“No. Are you kidding?” She blew at a stray hair on her forehead. “But I see the women who come to the club. How they are. How they dress. There’s one especially that looks at Marc like she wants to eat him alive.”

“And does he look at her the same way?”

Emma rubbed her forehead. “Well, no, but I feel, I don’t know, dowdy compared to her. Them.”

“First of all, chickadee, no one would ever call you dowdy. Besides, you’ve spiced up your hair. Got some new duds. But maybe the difference is what attracts him to you.” Annie crunched another chip and swallowed. “He doesn’t seem too anxious to kick you to the curb.” She paused. “And what would be so terrible if you

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