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By the time the song ends, they’ve already won over every person in tonight’s small audience.

“Fuck. They’re good,” Billie says.

“They are,” I confirm, as an idea sprouts in my head. If we’re going to be touring with The Other Women, with someone like Cleo Palmer, we might as well make good use of them.

Chapter 2

Cleo

Opening our show with The Lady Kings’ biggest hit was a bold move. But I didn’t get into this business to be a good girl and only do what is expected of me. On the contrary. And boy, was it a thrill to look into Lana Lynch’s face as I sang the hell out of that song. I’ve had years of practice. When we formed our band, it was the first song we taught ourselves to play—although this is the first time we’ve played it in front of an audience. I hope Lana was impressed.

I cast her one last glance as I let the final note of our set die in my throat. We’re no longer used to playing for such a tiny audience, but they make up for it by giving us a massive applause. Lana holds her hands above her head as she claps for us. Did she just give me a nod of approval? I’m about to find out.

“Thank you. It was such a pleasure. Can’t wait to play here again in a few days.” I tap two fingers to my forehead in a salute and head off the stage.

Backstage, I’m joined by my bandmates.

“That was so tight,” Daphne says. “You smashed it.” I exchange a high-five with our guitarist. Tim and Jess follow hot on her heels.

“Do you think we impressed them?” Judging by the smirk on Tim’s face, it’s not a question.

“Fuck, yeah.”

“Cleo?” I turn around. “Lana would like a word,” Roy, The Lady Kings’ manager, says. “Whenever you have a minute.”

“The King wants to see you,” Daphne says. “Best not keep her waiting.”

“Argh,” Jess groans. She’s had a crush on Lana Lynch forever.

“Come with me,” I offer.

Jess huffs out some air. “We’re going on tour with them. I’m sure I’ll get my moment with Lana.”

“Go,” Tim says. “You must have dazzled the fuck out of her.”

I follow Roy to the front stage where Lana is surrounded by the other members of her band. This won’t be a solo audience then.

“Way to go,” The Lady Kings’ new guitarist, Billie, says, and gives me a thumbs-up.

“Can I steal you for a minute?” Even when she speaks, Lana’s voice is low and gravelly.

“Of course.”

“How daring.” We walk up a few steps. “To kick off with ‘Like No One Else.’”

“It’s a tribute, of course.” When I’m talking to Lana Lynch, I don’t care if I sound like the ultimate fangirl—all of us in the band would cite The Lady Kings as one of our defining influences.

“You did it justice, and it gave me an idea.” Lana leans against a bench.

“Thanks.” It’s still surreal that we’ll be touring with our idols. We were gearing up for a headline tour with our own support act, but we happily gave up on that for a chance to tour with the Kings. All four of us, unanimously, in a heartbeat.

“You might have heard of this duet I’ve done with Isabel Adler,” Lana says.

“Your long-awaited comeback single.” I’m trying to keep my cool. I’ve only had ‘I Should Have Kissed You’ on repeat since it was released—not something I would ever have expected of a song featuring Isabel Adler. “I love it.”

“Yeah, so… on the tour, how about you and I sing it together?” Lana fixes her dark gaze on me.

“For real?”