Maybe. But that was how it had to be. She might not like posing as much as she liked music, but her name was finally out there, and she wasn’t going to sacrifice years of hustle just to be labelled ‘Francis Buchanan’s irrelevant ex-girlfriend.’

She’d sit pretty, drink vodka and let her best friend report back. But that didn’t solve the problem of her needy body. She studied the green room for someone else she might be able to flirt with. Fiasco wasn’t the biggest club in the world, but it had a good reputation—hence Francis showing up. A gang of pro-skaters clustered around the cigarette machine and guys with puffy bangs stood by the bar. She watched them for a while, but none of them seemed worth the trouble. She’d fucked her share of sweaty, disappointing, Machine Gun Kelly look-a-likes and lived with herself, but if she didn’t learn from the experience, what was the point? Finding sex in a club was easy. Finding good sex was near impossible.

She finished her drink, heaviness settling over her. It sounded ungrateful, even in her own mind, but if there was no one worth flirting with, why was she even in the green room? When she was younger, she thought being a DJ meant non-stop partying. She did party a lot, but that didn’t change anything about other people. Fame, bigger gigs, and more money wasn’t helping her find someone cool to kiss on a Friday night. It was probably better to know that before she became a big deal, but she missed when she thought success would solve all her problems.

A light hand fell on her shoulder. She looked up to see Cheryl’s gorgeous face. “Bernie! How’s it going?”

“Not bad, George, how are you?”

For as long as Eden could remember, she and Cheryl had called each other by their dads’ names. It was funny to no one but them, but they kept doing it anyway. Eden put her arm around Cheryl. “Bernie, I regret to tell you my heterosexuality has surfaced. I want to hook up with someone.”

Cheryl looked delighted. “About time! Who’s the lucky man?”

Eden stuck out her lower lip. “Francis?”

“No. Not Francis. At least not tonight. He said you played well, by the way. He wanted to know if you were gonna come over and say hi. I told him to do it himself.”

Eden smile. “I’m so in.”

“Eventually,” Cheryl warned. “Don’t give him any ideas right now. Actually, you should make out with someone else in front of him. See if you can get him jealous.”

“Okay, who am I kissing?”

“I can ask around.” Cheryl swung her hand through the air. “Who wants to fuck Bunny Descent? Who wants to deflower the bride?”

Eden yanked her hand down. “Yeah, not like that, thanks.”

“Picky.”