Willow gave Andy his best smile as Derek waved. “Hey mate, how are you?”

Andy’s eyebrows pulled together. “Derek? What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, good question.”

Andy climbed off stage and he and Derek hugged.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Andy repeated. “This doesn’t seem like your scene.”

“It’s not. Is it yours?”

“Not normally, but I’m on Eden’s PR team. Bunny Descent, I mean.”

“Yesss,” Willow hissed.

Andy frowned. “Hi, have we met before?”

Willow held out a hand. “We sure have. I play with Hardo. Hold him up basically.”

Andy laughed as they shook hands. “Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise, so is there any chance I can meet Eden? I’m a huge fan.”

Andy’s mouth twisted. “She doesn’t really like meeting people.”

“I get that,” Willow lied. “Maybe Derek and I could go into the green room and hang out for a bit? I could introduce myself?”

Andy looked from him to Derek. “Just you two?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Willow could see Psycho, his head slumped on the brunette’s shoulder. He’d make zero percent impression on anyone in his current state. He’d have to float around until he and Derek came out again. “Yeah, just us, if that’s okay?”

Andy smiled. “Fuck it. Sure.”

“Hell yes!” Willow pulled Andy into a hug. “You’re a gem, mate. An absolute gem.”

Andy laughed but hugged him back. “Take my lanyard and if anyone asks, say I let you in. And have fun. I have to chat with a couple of people, but I’ll see you boys soon.”

Willow saluted as he walked away. He turned to the Asian guy. “You heard Andy, let us through.”

With a hard smile, the guy stepped aside.

“God, you’re a dickhead,” Derek muttered as they ducked behind the stage curtain. “Everything works out for you.”

Willow would have pointed out that it made him lucky, not a dickhead, but it wasn’t the time for clever retorts. It was time to meet the woman of his dreams.

2

Francis Buchanan is the perfect guy.

Eden sipped at her mega glass of Red Bull and vodka, taking in his big shoulders, his double-slashed brow, his gorgeous, smirking face. Francis Buchanan looked like the mean guy from a high school movie. The sexy villain who tried to break the heroine before the hero saved her. Which made him exactly her type. She and Francis were made for each other, he just didn’t know it yet.

She watched as he sat on an overstuffed couch, chatting to a girl with purple hair.

“I don’t know when I’ll get back to Bondi,” he told her. “You’ll have to be a good girl and wait for me.”