1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

~ Tiffany ~

' Y ou can't date your work partners; you can't date your work partners.'

That's what my mind kept screaming at me.On the flip side of that, I was also going to state that you can't kill your work partners.

Which sucked.

On both accounts.

Because Jameson was the fucking hottest thing in leather pants; his trademark look when he took the stage. I couldn't date him, not that I wanted to. And I couldn't kill him, especially since I was his backup dancer. Cue the sad music.

And currently, he was pissed off and screaming at us. I mean, it wasn't quite my fault that I was running late to rehearsal, forgot to spray my setting spray, and now have mascara in my eyes from the fucking sweat. Oh yeah, per the management company that employs the dancers, we always have to look stunning. Makeup and hair in place. It's stupid. We look dumb.

Wrong.

Fake.

If I had my way, trust me, shit would be long gone, and we'd all be natural.

But it's not my company and therefore I don't make the rules. But it is one of the best damn dance companies around and they sure do work with some of the biggest musicians. However, we all agree it's a stupid rule. One that the musicians never seem to know about either.

When you're dancing, and learning new numbers, the last thing you want to be doing is sweating with makeup running into your eyes. It always stings like a bitch. The other two dancers agree, but, again, nothing can be done. And we sure can't tell Jameson about what's going on.Don't ask me, I just work here.

"Make up, for fucking practice!"

I grabbed the bottom of my tank top, knowing that if my boss saw this, I'd probably be fired on the spot, and wiped the corner of my eye.

"Sorry," was all I could seem to mutter. Not that it appeased him much. Charlene, one of my long-time friends, glanced over at me and shook her head.It was a bull shit rule that we wished, YET AGAIN, was voided. "Won't happen again."

And it wouldn't. I was never late. It was an honest mistake when I was trying to call about my car. Not that the call helped me at all. But that was all the problem for another day.

"It shouldn't," Jameson roared, his gaze glancing over all of us.

I swallowed hard when his chocolate brown eyes landed on me, a fire blazing in them. The message was loud and clear. Got it. Didn't need any more definition behind it.

He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something else and then slammed it shut when his phone started to ring. Funny, all phones were supposed to be off when we were rehearsing, guess that didn't go for the bad-ass rock star, did it? "Don't go far," he growled, shoving the phone back to his ear and walking away.

"What the fuck happened, Tiff?" I took the towel Charlene offered and walked over to my water bottle.

"I was on the phone with the car dealership, and it took longer than I thought. I still need to call my insurance about the fucking dent. It sucks that I have to pay for it even though someone hit me in the parking lot.And I park far enough away so that I don't deal with that. It's a huge dent!" I took a swig of the cool liquid before sitting on the side of the stage. "And because I called it in, my insurance is going up. I swear, nothing is going right." Charlene sat down next to me, swinging her legs out as well.

"You'll be okay, girl."

I loved Charlene. She was a force to be reckoned with, one who loved and protected dearly those that were close to her. If dancing wasn't her dream job, she would have told our management to fuck you and walk away. But this gig, this dancing with Jameson, paid well beyond anything we'd ever hope for.And it sure wasn't our first job with him. Not that he knew any of us by name, even if we were few.

"I know, it just sucks. So, this," I said, waving my hand to the empty space behind me, "was just a headache I didn't need nor want. I love dancing, love dancing for him, love watching him if I'm being honest, but it's these little things that piss me off. In true rock-style fashion, that man wouldn't even know if we were dead."Charlene rolled her eyes, but she didn't deny it. Because you couldn't. It was the truth.

"Do you even think he thinks about that at all?" I lifted a brow as I glanced at her over her question, and she laughed along with me. "Okay, you're right about that."

"He's an amazing singer and talented songwriter ,and knows how to fill out some jeans, but does he care about us? Not at all.We're just the crew to him.Nothing of importance. And if he did," I muttered, once more wiping my face but still trying to keep the makeup on, "this is all fake. None of us look like this. It's all a fa?ade. On a street corner, he couldn't tell us apart from anyone else."

"Does it make me bad that I don't mind all of that so long as I get to stand behind him and see that view?"

I shoved her but couldn't blame her. Jameson, the stage name to Heath, was a man who didn't care about anything beyond himself or his fans, and only those who paid the big bucks.

"He could shock us." The man stormed back in, and we both stood, an angry scowl on his face letting us know the remaining time was going to be brutal. "Or maybe not."

Five very long and tiring hours later, I walked out of the small personal venue that belonged to Jameson and made my way to my poor dented car. Given that I lived in New York, it was kind of funny that I even had a car, because it fucking took longer to find a fucking spot to park on most days than it would take for me to walk somewhere. But I didn't drive to a lot of places. This was one of the biggest ones, as Jameson's place was a good thirty minutes away from where I lived. I flung my bag on the passenger seat and groaned as the phone in the side pocket started ringing.

Without looking at the caller ID, I answered. No one else called me on a Saturday night. "Hey, Ricky."

"Tiffany, you are alive!"

I chuckled as I leaned against the side of the car.

"I'm upright.Not sure about alive. What's up?"

"What are you doing right now?"

"I'm currently leaning on my poor baby as I talk to you because I trust no one in this damn city with driving and talking. So, I won't get into my car until I'm done with you. I repeat, what's up?"

"I was going to see if you wanted to have a drink with me and the guys!"

I groaned.I can't remember the last time I was out with my friends. It seemed like I spent all my time working. And when I wasn't doing that, I was fucking asleep from pure exhaustion.

"Ricky, I want to," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"But you can't.You know, you used to be the life of the party. Always down for drinks, dancing, or any other wild shenanigans we could find. Where did you go?"

"I found an asshole of a boss who wants to rehearse all the damn time," I offered, finally getting in my car. "You know what, I'll make you a deal. The next time you call me and invite me out ,I promise to say yes, unless I'm on tour already."

"For real?What do I get to do if you back out?"

"Ricky, you're vile enough to come up with something. So, deal?"

"You're on, lady. Be safe getting home and text me when you're there."

"Will do."With that, I threw the phone in the cup holder and let out a breath. I knew Ricky well enough that I had to keep my end of the deal, no matter how tired I was because the last time I backed out, I paid for it for days on end.