Free Forgetting Popper (Los Rancheros #3) by Brandace Morrow Page B

get my rider pulled too.”
    We enter through double doors that make the
room look pitch black inside, giving nothing away. When my eyes
adjust it’s just another long hallway that gives way to a
concession room with buffet tables. “Get something if you’re
hungry,” I say, and Jacque wastes no time taking the offer.
    I wander around the mingling crew, some busy
with tasks, some BSing in groups, none of them seem to notice me.
Leaving the room, I follow another hall into what turns out to be
the set. There are stands for audience seating along the walls and
a huge platform that is the stage.
    “Excuse me, ma’am, you’re in my shot.”
    My eyes go from the complete intimidation
that is prime time TV manifested to land on Fandy from Rolling
Bridges. Only the hottest rock group since the Rolling Stones. I
almost snort at the comparison in my head, but I see the red light
on the camera just in time.
    “Ma’am? Bite your tongue,” I say in my
smoothest voice.
    Fandy claps his hands together excitedly.
“Girl, you are lookin’ fine!” He takes my hand and bends over to
kiss the back. His dreadlocks block his face, but I definitely feel
lips. It makes me giggle, which is absurd.
    “Stop it, you should use your charm for
good.”
    “But it’s so much more fun to play,” he says
through a lip ring that winks at me.
    “I thought I smelled something foul. What is
that? Eau de Pedophile?” Daniel Walsh says, lumbering over in his
massive height. I swear the man could be a body builder. I reach
out for a hug before things can get awkward.
    “Popper how the hell are ya? Last time we
were all together was—”
    “Four years ago. And you guys can call me
Sadie. That’s my real name. Since I’m not part of the band anymore
you’re stuck with me.”
    Fandy shakes his head. “I like you better
already, sista.”
    “Yeah, sister,” Danny says a second too late,
making us all laugh.
    “Cut!” someone yells, making me jump. “That
was just great. I had no idea you had this chemistry between you.
Popper, are you going to want to have the show introduce you as
Sadie? Everything needs to stay consistent.”
    “Absolutely, and please call me Sadie.” I
lick my lips after I say it, nervous again to put myself out there
without the barrier of Popper’s façade.
    “That’s great. Sadie, come this way. We’re
going to do individual shots first.” I’m put in front of fans and
bright lights, my hair and makeup people constantly running in
between shots to adjust me. They remind me of the kids that chase
down balls in tennis, settling to one side before sprinting to the
ball and end up on the other, waiting to do it all over again for
as long as they have to.
    In my leather pants, red flannel shirt tied
around my waist, leather jacket, and white tank top I feel about as
sexy as I’ve ever felt, aside from when Batty is making me scream.
My high heel pumps are classy, like nothing I’ve ever worn before,
and I never want to take them off. My eyes start wandering to look
for Batty, wondering if he’ll let me keep them on one night.
    “Whoa! That’s hot. Hold that pose, hold it,
hold it. Okay, now give me the other side of your face, doll,” the
photographer says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
    After the photo shoot, we sit down for
interviews that take another two hours. Afterwards, I overhear the
producers having a disagreement with Fandy and Daniel about what
songs we could do as an opening act to the show. No one wants to do
any songs with a strong female lead, and can’t agree on any of the
sucky songs being suggested. I take a deep breath to prevent myself
from barging in there like a wrecking ball, but I want someone’s
head.
    Shortly after that, they take a break for the
production team to look over what footage they have, stating they
will call us back if they need us before we can leave for the day.
After eating greasy food with Jacque, I get touched up again and am
set free to roam the set. I find