Ivy shifted in the chair, moving back where she was when I came in. “Sure,” she said, her voice not giving me a clue to her thoughts as she looked at the ceiling and closed her eyes. “We haven’t had a girls’ night out in a while.”

“Great.”

I settled back into the cushions to wait for Kisten. From the stereo, a soft-spoken voice dripping sex whispered as the songs changed. The scent of brewing coffee became obvious. A smile came over me as Takata’s newest single came on. They were playing it even on the jazz stations. Ivy opened her eyes. “Backstage passes,” she said, smiling.

“Al-l-l-l-l-l the way backstage,” I countered. She had already agreed to work the concert with me, and I was eager to introduce her to Takata. But then I thought of Nick. No chance he’d be going now. Maybe I could ask Kisten to help us. And since he was posing as Piscary’s scion, he would be doubly effective as a deterrent. Kinda like a cop car parked in the median. I looked at the black archway, wondering if he’d say yes if I asked, and if I wanted him there.

“Listen.” Ivy held up a finger. “This is my favorite part. That low thrum goes all the way to my gut. Hear the pain in her voice? This has got to be Takata’s best CD yet.”

Her voice? I thought. Takata was the only one singing.

“You’re mine, in some small fashion,” Ivy whispered, her eyes closed, the inner pain showing on her brow making me uneasy. “You’re mine, though you know it not. You’re mine, bond born of passion…”

My eyes widened. She wasn’t singing what Takata was. Her words were interlaced with his, an eerie backdrop that set my skin to crawl. That was the chorus he wasn’t going to release.

“You’re mine, yet wholly you,” she breathed. “By the way of your will—”

“Ivy!” I exclaimed, and her eyes flashed open. “Where did you hear that?”

She looked blankly at me as Takata continued, singing of bargains made in ignorance.

“That’s the alternate chorus!” I said, sitting up to the edge of the couch. “He wasn’t going to release that.”

“Alternate chorus?” she said as Kisten came in, setting the tray with three cups of coffee on the table beside the thick red candles and pointedly sitting next to me.

“The lyrics!” I pointed to the stereo. “You were singing them. He wasn’t going to release those. He told me. He was going to release the other ones.”

Ivy stared at me as if I had gone insane, but Kisten groaned, hunching to put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s the vamp track,” he said, his voice flat. “Damn. I thought something was missing.”