Page 84 of Hard Rock Deceit

"Excuseme?"

A young girl with wide brown eyes held her camera up in her hands, pointedatme.

"Sorry, am I in your way?" Iasked.

She shookherhead.

"No. I wanted to ask if I can take a pictureofyou."

Iblinked.

"Me?Why?"

"I'm the social media intern for this concert venue," she explained. "I'm supposed to get interesting behind the scenes photos of people working to shareonline."

I didn't know why a photo of me frowning into my camera would be considered interesting. I noddedanyway.

"Just keep playing with your camera like you were before," she said. "I'll bequick."

I went back to my camera. With all my photos deleted, I had to pretend I was doingsomething.

True to her word, by the time I looked back up, the girl was off to the side, speaking to a roadie who had a skeptical look onhisface.

Taking photos of crew members probably wasn't the kind of thing the poor girl thought she signed up for as an intern for a concert venue. I hoped her boss at least let her meet the bands and take photos of them. It was probably the only perk of an internship with what I assumed had to be low pay, or evennopay.

With no photos to speak of, I left the backstage and headed back to the tour bus. If I wasn't going to get any good shots, I might as well work on editing the ones I'd alreadytaken.

I stepped onto the bus andpaused.

Cameron sat on the sofa closest to the doors, face buried in his phone's screen. He must have been taking the time to rest and text his girlfriend beforetheshow.

He flicked his gaze up when I appeared on the top of the stairs. He stared me down, his lips twitching into a frown. His gaze flicked back to the phone without a word ofgreeting.

If I'd thought Cameron had been giving me the cold shoulder before, it was nothing compared to the icy reception that greeted me every time the band got together inoneroom.

Disheartened, I made my way to the small office at the back. Turning on my laptop and opening my photo editing software, I clicked through the photos, trying to decide which ones toworkon.

Hushed voices from the bedroom at the back caught my attention. Two identical voices. I couldn't hear what the twins were talking about. Or, more accurately, furiously hissing to eachother.

The door opened. Ian stalked off. I kept my eyes trained on mylaptop.

Damon came out. His hand was buried in the hair at the back of his neck. Frustration lined his face. Hesawme.

"Hey," he said half-heartedly.

"Hey," I said carefully. "Are youguysokay?"

"Yeah. Just—" he let out a slow breath. "Theusualshit."

The usual shit, in this case, had come to mean arguing aboutAugust.

"Ian stillupset?"

"He's turning this into a me-and-him thing." Damon glanced out the bus windows, watching his brother stomp off toward the venue. "He's saying I shouldn't have made him choose between me and August. Says it's just like me making him choose between meandHope."

"That's not a faircomparison."

"Doesn't stop him from making it." Damon leaned against the office desk, shoulders slumping. "I know we did the right thing. If August kept playing while taking drugs, eventually something bad would have happened. Again. It was for his own good. Ian knows that." Damon pressed his lips together. "He just didn't have the guts to back me uponit."