Page 1 of The Encore Effect

Chapter One

All five members of chart-topping boy band Midnight Storm plummeted through a hole in the stage, their unexpected departure punctuated by the screams of nine thousand ravenous fans. Kat checked her watch. Assuming no one threw a monkey wrench in the clockwork of the post-show routine, she’d have all the guys headed to their dinner reservation in the next twenty-two minutes.

Nico was the first to emerge from the rigging beneath the stage. The pop star’s megawatt smile was undimmed by the last two hours of nonstop dancing and singing. “You have to try jumping on the airbag at least once before this tour is over,” he said as he took the bottle of Evian she held out to him. “It’s like the most extreme bounce house.”

“I’m good, thanks,” Kat said.

“You don’t know what you’re missing.” Zach dodged an errant equipment case and reached for the bottle of Vitamin Water she pulled from the cooler at her side. The subtle shimmer threaded through his shirt caught the light as he wiped sweat out of his eyes with the sleeve of his denim jacket.

Logan took the red drink from his bandmate and tilted his chin towards the orange one in Kat’s other hand. “This one’s mine. You don’t even like açai.”

Jackson came next, his sweat-soaked black t-shirt clinging to his chest and biceps. He swiped his Fiji Water from the cooler before Kat could offer it to him. Impatient, as always. “Where are we going tonight, boys?”

“The only place you’re going is dinner and then straight back to the hotel,” Kat said. “I need you well-rested. You have a show tomorrow.”

“Not until tomorrow night,” Jackson said. “You can’t seriously expect us to stay in. It’s Friday night in Vegas.”

“Smash Brothers tournament in my room after dinner?” Nico offered.

“That’s not the kind of smashing I had in mind,” Jackson grumbled.

“Can’t you keep it in your pants for one night?”

Kat turned at the barked question as Jackson’s twin brother, Beckett, strode towards them. Unlike his bandmates, his gray-blue eyes reflected the exhaustion of performing the high-energy concert night after night. He was also favoring his right knee. Again. His stilted walk did little to conceal his limp.

Kat scanned the way his jeans moved over the affected joint, hunting for signs of swelling. “Are you wearing the brace Doug recommended?”

“Can’t wear it with these jeans.” Beckett glared at her and tore off his leather jacket as though he were angry with the garment. Rivulets of sweat crisscrossed his bare chest and back, mapping paths over the intricate tattoos that covered his skin.

She resisted the urge to examine the way the jeans in question hugged his muscular thighs. “I’ll talk to wardrobe,” she said, adding it to the ever-growing to-do list on her phone and holding out a bottle of Smart Water to the scowling twin.

“Thanks,” he grunted, avoiding eye contact as he poured the water into his mouth. Tilting his head back, he dumped a generous amount over his head, electrolyte-enhanced water sluicing through his thick, dark hair and dripping down the back of his neck, the slope of his cheekbones and nose.

A burst of heat licked at Kat’s cheeks as memories flickered behind her eyes—Beckett in a hotel pool late at night, splashing her where she sat on the cement edge before catching her around the waist and dragging her into the water with him. His laughter vibrating through her as their slick legs tangled together. Beckett emerging from the shower, a towel slung low around his waist as he rubbed at his hair with another, water droplets sliding along the carved lines of his abs. He had fewer tattoos then, no lines crinkling the corners of his eyes when he smiled.

Not that he smiled at her much anymore.

She cleared her throat and turned her attention back to Jackson. To the problem with a clear solution. “You know the rules. No going out the night before a show.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. Restless energy radiated off his skin and warped the air around him like heat rising from asphalt. “You used to be fun.”

“The label doesn’t pay me to be fun.” She let the sting of his words slide away. She used to be a lot of things.

“Come on, Jacks. I know you want to kick my ass in Smash Brothers. I’ll even let you be Link,” Nico said.

Jackson huffed and pushed past his bandmates, stalking down the hall toward his dressing room.

“Don’t forget to leave your clothes for wardrobe before you go,” Kat called after him. “The car leaves for dinner in eighteen minutes!”

Nico, Logan, and Zach followed their disgruntled bandmate, already arguing about which Smash Brothers character was the most powerful. Kat reached for Beckett’s forearm as he limped after them, halting his slow retreat. “I’m sending Doug to your room after dinner.”

The corner of his lip quirked upwards, but pain still clouded his eyes. “You worried about me, Luna?”

Her nostrils flared at his use of her last name. She used to love it when he called her Luna. Now it felt like he was mocking her. “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“And you think sending the physical therapist to work me even more is going to help?”

“When was the last time you let him look at your knee?”