Free Magic's Song by Genia Avers Page A

niche behind the stage.
    She walked forward, determined to have a conversation. And froze in her tracks.
    Amanda and Brent were locked in an embrace. More precisely, Amanda kissed him on the mouth, doing things with her hips that made Tanith feel nauseous. She waited for Brent to push her away.
    He didn’t.
    Tanith wanted to back away, but her legs wouldn’t move. Brent’s arms were still by his side. His mouth wasn’t moving. Maybe he just needed rescuing.
    She cleared her throat. Brent lifted his head.
    “Go away,” Amanda snarled.
    Instead of looking embarrassed, Brent smiled at her. He gave Amanda a playful push. “We do need to get back to work. You go ahead. I need to talk to Tanith.”
    Amanda frowned. “So talk.”
    Brent nudged her chin with his fist. Tanith wanted to puke.
    “I need to talk to her alone.”
    Amanda narrowed her eyes, but after several seconds she stomped away.
    Brent smiled, his expression about as genuine as Amanda’s boobs. “Tan, about the other night…”
    Gads, she knew it. “You don’t have to say anything,” she said quickly, not wanting to hear another it’s me, not you speech.
    He nodded, the relief on his face breaking her heart. “You were great, Tan, but I’m…”
    “Not to worry. I don’t have time for anything serious either.” A lie. She would have made time, but he…she wouldn’t think about it. Not now.
    She forced a smile on her face, determined to keep it there when all she really wanted was to disintegrate on the spot.
    He gave Tanith a bigger smile. “That’s my girl. Shall we get back to practice?”
    Amanda smirked at her when they walked back to the stage. Tanith used every portion of her willpower to keep from running out of the club.
    She stumbled over the lyrics during their last set, but Brent didn’t yell. “I’ve probably worked you guys too long anyway. Great job.” He called from the door without looking back, “See you guys tomorrow night.”
    Tanith looked at the floor, not sure how long she could carry out the charade. She couldn’t look at Brent without feeling ripped apart. How could she possibly stay with the band?
    But she’d signed a contract.

Chapter Eleven
    The group played to a packed crowd that weekend. Everyone else rode the high the realization of a dream brings. Tanith tried, but she couldn’t share their glee. Brent acted like nothing had ever happened between them. Almost six weeks since their sex Olympics and the hurt hadn’t lessened one iota. Their night of magic had been just sex—at least to him.
    Worse, people on the street were starting to recognize her and she hated the celebrity. A couple of teens had even asked for an autograph. She wanted to quit the group and go back to oblivion, but she refused to run away. She could probably get out of her obligation, but what if the search for a new singer jeopardized Brent’s ride to fame? As much as she hurt, she couldn’t do that to him. Or to the rest of the band.
    At every practice, Brent headed for the door the second the last set concluded. Maybe he’d found another quickie partner.
    Tanith approached Marcus during a break, doing her best to sound casual. “What’s with Brent and his disappearing act?” If she could confirm Brent had a new cookie, maybe she could move on.
    Marcus shook his head. “I knew you’d fall for him sooner or later.”
    She glared, not liking the implication, “I am not one of his groupies!”
    “Chill. I was only joking, luv. I never said you were a groupie—you think I have a death wish?” Marcus laughed. “You two are a lot alike, you know? Both of you are too serious and too damn dumb to appreciate the rock scene. I meant no insult, chickee. Don’t get your new thong in a wad.” He gave a playful tug on the strap visible above her new hip huggers. “Why do you care where he goes anyway?”
    She slapped his hand away. “I was just curious.”
    “Sure.” He shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated gesture.