EPIC (Book 1 of the Soundcrush series)

Chapter 17: Rock Stars Never Die

Trace

We leave the Lambo parked outside without a second thought—it is a gated community, after all—and head into the kitchen. To my surprise, Kat's house looks a little more lived in than it used to.

"Wow, Ellen's eased up a bit, huh?" I force a grin, looking around at the food packages on the counter, and the hooks in the hallway laden with purses, bags and sweaters. Back in the day, the house looked like a show-case—every room except Kat's, which was a disaster and a constant source of conflict.

"Well, my parents are actually around now. They don't work all the time anymore. They said they wanted to spend more time with me before I went away to college. It looks lived in, because it finally is."

I search the fridge for soy sauce and Kat gets some little dishes.

"The words sound like a good thing, your tone tells me otherwise. They on your case or what?"

"They were, for a while, after..." she stops before she mentions her sister. "But it's okay now."

We eat the sushi, sharing each other's rolls as she tells me all about transferring schools, and shows me pictures of her new friends. Lots of pictures of them doing normal teenage things...concerts and restaurant pictures and spring break and fun on Lake Lanier. Sometimes the pictures have Maddie and/or Laurel in them, but Colin is always there in every set of pictures. She shows me her prom picture. She and Dickwad look good together, I've got to give them that. She's wearing a sophisticated black halter dress with fancy beading and slit all the way up her thigh. As I'm staring at her prom picture, working up a fantasy of what it would have been like to cause a stir and take her to her prom, my phone pings.

I pick and up and look at it. "That's Callie Caparati," I murmur.

"Really?" she asks, her eyes wide at the mention of the famous pop singer.

This time my grin is for real. I love teasing Kat.

"Yeah, she asks that you stop wearing dresses like that. You're showing her up."

She slaps me on the arm. "Don't punk me with jokes about hot celebrities you've dated."

"Never dated her. Don't even have her number." I show her that the text was actually from Dawes, demanding to know where I am. I forgot-on-purpose-to tell him I was planning to go AWOL.

"I saw a picture of you with her on a red carpet."

I steal a piece of sushi from her plate. "That stuff—all those pictures you see in magazines, it's all...staged. Event organizers hustle certain groups of celebrities together to take shots like we are friends. I hardly know half the people I'm "seen" with on a regular basis. Then there are other people...some celebrities even, that you don't ever see me with, that I actually do hang with."

"Like who?" she challenges. "Who are you secret celebrity friends with?"

I chew thoughtfully, "Well, I wouldn't say we are friends exactly, but whenever we are at an event together, for some reason, I always end up shooting the shit with Matt Del Marco."

"You're kidding."

I put my hand over my heart. "Swear."

She laughs. "That's really weird, Trace. I mean Skid Marcs is one of the biggest bands ever, but that's not your style of music. They were an eighties glam metal. And Matt del Marco has be like what...in his fifties?"

"Ahh, but they've stood the test of time, reinventing themselves. Most importantly, they still love to play and people love to come out and hear them. I'm lucky to know Matt—he's a great guy. Kind of like...a mentor, I guess you'd say."