Free Backstage with Her Ex by Louisa George

amusement, shock and a frown that said he was on dangerous ground. ‘No. I’m not scared.’
    â€˜So...prove it.’ He made a pretty poor attempt at her teacher scowl.
    She shook her head and laughed. ‘Oh, God. How did I not see that coming?’
    â€˜Two can play at that game, Miss Sweet and Sour. Besides, one good turn deserves another, right? I need a little help here. I hate going to this kind of place alone, where I’ll have to waffle on about texture and depth and stuff.’
    â€˜Is that because you wouldn’t know what it was? Depth?’
    â€˜Hey, I can do deep.’
    â€˜Sure. Nothing says deep like a quickie with two hot blondes with big bazookas, followed by a date with a whole different woman.’
    â€˜I didn’t do that.’
    â€˜You were going to.’
    â€˜Can’t blame a guy for trying.’ Seriously, she had no idea. ‘That was just guy talk. I didn’t do it. And I didn’t have a date—it was just an excuse to get Dario off my back. Come on. You owe me. Big time.’
    For the first time that afternoon her face grew serious, her eyes dark and hollow. She thought for a second, seemed to reconcile his words. ‘I guess I do. Okay, you’re right. You’ve been great with the kids and you’re doing the concert—’
    â€˜So you’ll come, save me from a night of pretentious boredom?’
    â€˜Just to help you out. Then the debt’s repaid?’ She looked down at her soft green dress and wedge sandals. ‘I’ll need to go home and change.’
    â€˜No, don’t. I like the way you look, this whole vintage gig.’
    â€˜This whole cheap gig. Ferret around in junk shops often enough and you can find a real bargain. I like it though. It reminds me of an era when people were honest and faithful and...predictable. When life was safe.’
    â€˜Ah, yes.’ He loved to watch her face as he teased her, see the dawning realisation. ‘The nineteen fifties, time of the Cold War, the Iron Curtain, the threat of nuclear bombs...yes, very safe.’
    â€˜Okay.’ Her whole face lit up as she smiled. ‘So maybe I just like the clothes. They’re pretty and feminine.’
    â€˜And as luck would have it, I happen to have a thing for big skirts.’ Although it was more that he wanted to know what was going on under hers.
    She rolled her eyes. ‘But I don’t think it’ll work for tonight.’
    â€˜It works for me. It makes you stand out from the crowd, your own style. Unique.’ Definitely unique. And if he gave her an out to go home she might change her mind again. He wasn’t prepared to take that risk. ‘You look amazing. Seriously, amazing. You’ll give them all a run for their money.’
    * * *
    But Sasha didn’t feel amazing. Not when she stepped out of the car to the flash of a thousand light bulbs. Not when all she could hear was the screech of Nate’s name to look right, left, who’s the date? Who are you wearing?
    Who? Idiots. Clothes, she wanted to shout back. Can’t you see? And they’d all die if they knew she’d bought hers from a Chesterton High Street charity shop.
    â€˜Scaato and Paul, Frederike,’ Nate called back, in a language she didn’t understand.
    And she definitely didn’t feel amazing when he leaned in and said, ‘It’s a bit of a maul but we just have to get through this bit.’
    She didn’t want to just get through. She wanted it to end. Didn’t want them to see her, to ask who she was. She didn’t want them to know. The last thing she needed was her past dragged through the papers all over again.
    Plan A: she would stay long enough to be polite, then leave through the back door. Plan B? She’d come up with something...just as soon as he removed his distracting hand from her back.
    He steered her into the sparse concrete-grey space. Once the front door closed