Page 4 of Lance

“Ransom is going to be there?” Dylan asks, his expression now mirroring Layla’s. “Seriously?”

“What’s your problem?” Haylee asks, bemused. “You’ve hung out with the Ransome boys a bunch of times. We went on tour with them, for fuck’ssake.”

“Not to mention Lennon Ransome is constantly following Haylee around,” I add. “Like a lame lovesick teenager—” I step out of the way as she moves to smack me for dissing her boyfriend, the bassist of America’s favorite rockgroup.

“Yeah, but this is different,” Dylan says, wide-eyed. “We were their opener in Europe. We were the little guy. And now they’re coming to a party for us. Ransom is coming to a party forus.”

“Get yourself together, fanboy,” Haylee says,laughing.

“Youshouldbe honored,” Louis cuts in. “Ransom is established. Three multi-platinum albums, their tours sell out in minutes. They’re the real deal. And they didn’t get that way by resting on their laurels after one taste of success.” He looks around at all of us. “If you guys are serious about wanting to get back into the studio, you have your work cut out for you. It won’t beeasy.”

“We can handle not easy,” Jamessays.

“I know you can.” It’s not very often Louis actually shows any faith in us, so that shuts everyone up pretty quick. “You should enjoy yourself tomorrow. Taping the show, the party—it’s a big deal and you deserve it.” He straightens his tie again, his face growing stern. “But don’t you dare let it go to your head. Don’t take this for granted—or you’ll find yourself back exactly where youstarted.”

“Playing a set next to a dead pig on a spit,” Dylan agrees and Louis actuallylaughs.

“Exactly.” He glances again at his phone. “We should head out; the cars are probablyhere.”

Out in the hall, I don’t manage to get very far before the blonde in the skirt shows up, blocking my path. “Hey,” she says, her voice throaty, her gaze going straight for my junk. I take a step back, a little overwhelmed by her forwardness. “It’s not very often I get star-struck working here,” she goes on, batting her eyelashes a little. “But I have to tell you, I’m a huge fan.” She presses herself a little closer and the smell of her perfume surrounds me. “Maybe we could hang outsometime?”

There’s a part of me that’s kinda put off. Sure, she’s totally hot, but she’s way more aggressive than I normally go for, and up close her makeup is thick enough to be distracting.Trying too hard, a voice in my head seems to whisper. But I push it back. This is how it’s supposed to be for a rock star, right? Who am I to complain about a hot woman accosting me in the hallway? So I take her offered phone number and wink at her before going to join my band mates at the elevator, where Haylee is once again miminggagging.

“Shut up,” I tell her as we step through the doors. “We can’t all count on happily ever after with Mr.Emo.”

“I’m telling Lennon you called him that,” she says smoothly. “I wonder if he’ll still introduce you to Dave Grohl like hepromised.”

As Dave Grohl is my total hero I spend the elevator ride begging her forgiveness and heaping praise on her boyfriend—who I do actually like very much, not the least because he’s made Haylee so happy after all the shit she’s been through in the last few years. By the time we get to the bottom she’s laughing and calling me a bigger fanboy thanDylan.

In the main lobby of the building, Louis has us wait by the elevator bank while he gets on his phone to check on the status of our cars. And my phone buzzes.Again.

“Jesus, Lance,” Dylan says. “Who keepscalling?”

I look up from the screen. Layla, Haylee and James are a few feet away, talking about the party. “It’s Angie,” I mutter, and Dylan lets out a lowwhistle.

“Shit, man. I didn’t know you were still talking toher.”

“I’m not,” I snap. There are few topics that get me in a pissy mood faster than my ex. “But she keeps fucking callingme.”

“And you haven’tanswered?”

I shake my head. What’s the point? I know what she wants. If she thinks she’s the first girl from my past to suddenly reappear in the midst of our newfound success, she’s even crazier than Ithought.

And I thought she was plentycrazy.

But now my phone gives a different chime—I have a message. I sigh, looking atDylan.

“I mean, you might as well listen to it,” he says. “Maybe she wants toapologize.”

I snort and bring the phone to my ear. Angie Cates apologizing. That would be theday.

Sure enough, when the message begins she doesn’t sound apologetic. But she doesn’t sound simpering or complimentary either, the way the other girls from my past have sounded when they called looking for another chance with the new and improved Lance. Angie sounds…freaked out. There’s something in her tone, in the almost frantic pace that she talks, that has my nerves standing on edge, a little tremor of something like worry shooting down myspine.

“Lance, it’s me,” she says. “I don’t even know if this is still your number. Fuck. I hope it is. I need…I need to talk to you, okay? It’s really important. There are things that—look, just call me, okay? You need to call me.Now.”

That’s all there is. No details, no explanation. Certainly no apology. I don’t know why, but the message makes me feeluneasy.

“Everything okay?” Dylan asks, watching my face. Before I can answer, Louis is hanging up his own phone and gesturing us to thedoor.

“Come on,” he calls, sounding stressed. “There are some photographers outside. We need to movequickly.”

Out on the sidewalk the sun is shining brightly, and a few security guards are holding back a small crowd of paparazzi and a larger crowd of fans. “Lance!” a girl screams, and the rest echo her as cameras go off and everyone jostles everyone else. It’s fast and loud andoverwhelming.

It’s also totallyawesome.

I follow the others into a waiting van, making sure to smirk and wave in the direction of the fans, and then we’re pulling away, and everyone is laughing because, fuck, we aresonot used tothis.

As we make our way through the crowded streets of downtown LA to the television studio where we’ll be performing tomorrow for a national audience, it’s hard to worry too much about Angie Cates and whatever problem she might have. She’s my past, and in this moment the past feels very far away. What matters is right now—and right now I want to enjoy being famous and successful with the only people that really matter tome.