Excerpt: (H)Itgirls

“Ashen!” Verity shook his hand off her arm. “We just talked about this! We can’t wait, we have to find out where Nico is! You’re not even sure she’s in Vegas.”

“No, I’m not. But Neely’s not going to move her out of Vasany’s clinic in the next several hours. He has no idea we know anything is suspicious. And without him around to argue your case, you’re going to need someone with you to strong-arm the Citystage people into letting you lip-sync.”

“Why is that?” Verity asked, thrown off balance by this sudden revelation. “Why do they care if I lip-sync or not?”

“What part of ‘live’ do you not understand?” Ashen asked. “Citystage’s producers are known for wanting to uphold the integrity of their show,” Ashen said. “They don’t even like their musical guests to use pre-recorded tracks.” He watched Verity’s expression descend from indignation to unease.

“I can’t sing Nico’s songs, Ashen,” Verity said. “I can do just about anything else, but…you heard me, the other day, with the voice coach. I. Do. Not. Sing.” She crossed her arms, her body suddenly taking on a defensive posture.

“Right, I know,” Ashen said, a shade of reassurance in his voice. “So, that’s why I’m going with you. Our story is that you’re being treated for vocal chord polyps, and that we have to preserve your voice for tour commitments.” He shrugged slightly. “It’s the kind of thing Neely usually takes care of, but…he’s not here, so, I’m going to be your handler until the rehearsal is over. So the show people understand how it’s going to be.”

Verity stared at him. She was used to him being an obstacle, and she was used to him being a sort of foil, both for her-as-Nico, and the real her. She was starting to understand that he was good for backup and running interference. He made a decent ally. She also had inklings that he might, somehow, be attracted to her, both for her resemblance to Nico, and perhaps…for herself.

But this was her first real experience of him protecting her, as Verity, and not as Nico. It was a disquieting combination of comforting and irritating.

“I think you should get to LAX, and let me worry about the Citystage producers and their fixation with live performance,” she told him, as a dark-windowed SUV pulled up to the front doors of the hotel. “You have tickets waiting at the counter for you.”

“I know. And they’ll be there when this rehearsal is over,” Ashen replied, propelling her out of the lobby alcove with a strong hand at the small of her back.

Verity was so stunned she didn’t say another word until they were settled in the cushy seats of the SUV, and she punched the privacy screen.

“Those are not necessarily soundproof, you know,” Ashen warned.

“Good thing I know how to talk quietly,” Verity hissed, and shot across the seat at him. He didn’t back up, but looked at her warily as she leaned close, her eyes narrowed.

“You can ride with me to the studio, but after that, we’re calling you a car to go to LAX,” she said in his ear, breath stirring his hair with little puffs of air. “I have ways of handling difficult producers.”

Ashen’s mouth thinned, and he took hold of Verity’s thrust-forward chin so he could turn her head. “You are not killing anyone,” he said firmly. “I realize you’re used to more extreme situations. These people aren’t spies or terrorists. They’re assholes, yes, but they don’t deserve to have their throats slit with a letter opener.”

“Spoken by a true show business hanger-on,” Verity shot back. “I thought you knew what was important, here.”

-to be continued