Cover

Dedication

For Eric. All my love, darling.

1

Eden Jade Cartwright is the perfect woman.

The thought reverberated around Willow’s head alongside the trance beat. Her trance beat. Eden Jade—better known by her DJ name, Bunny Descent, stood behind the decks on stage, one hand raised. The lights turned her white-blonde hair to pink and her ripped wedding dress was spattered neon by the leaking glow-sticks her fans were waving.

Her perfect face was screwed in concentration as she fiddled with something on the decks. The music transitioned from a hard, pulsing beat to something Willow recognised—‘Self Care’ by Mac Miller. The crowd cheered, more people rushing toward the stage, hands raised. It was three in the morning and the tiny dance floor was thrumming.

Willow had expected the crowd to thin as the night wore on, but the opposite happened. Bunny Descent was the seventh DJ of the night, and the audience was more hyped for her than anyone else. Watching the crowd dance, he felt a surge of pride. From what he’d read in interviews, Eden was scared of not breaking through, worried her sound was too erratic for main stages. But there was no way the woman in front of him wasn’t making it big. She oozed glamour and with each and every song, he grew more amazed she wasn’t famous.

“She is a goddess,” a guy slurred in his ear. “I, like, actually fuckin’ love her.”

Willow turned and saw the guy was talking to his equally fucked up mate, but that didn’t change the fact he was vocalising his own thoughts about Eden.

I’m different, he told himself.

Why?

I just am.

That had always been the only reason he needed. People called him overconfident, but that implied he tried to be confident. He didn’t. He was just lucky. He got what he wanted.

As the music surged higher, Willow danced along with the crowd, working his weight from foot to foot. A few girls smiled, looking for someone to kiss—or maybe because they recognised him, but he only had eyes for Eden. On stage she leant forward, touching the hands of the people dancing in front of her. The second she made contact, the crowd screamed fit to burst the roof. Willow knew exactly how they felt.

He’d been scoping her Instagram for ages, but there was nothing like seeing her in real life. With her long blonde hair and big eyes, she looked like Sailor Moon—his first and most powerful crush. He watched as Eden put her hands behind her head and shook, her tits bouncing in her wedding dress. Attraction burred through him like an electric current. He’d never been so into anyone. Even Sailor Moon. What could that be but true love? As he watched her dance, he made himself a promise—come hell or high water, he’d talk to her tonight.

A hard elbow bashed his side.

“Oi,” Derek shouted over the music. “What are we still doing here? Everyone’s out of their minds.”

Willow danced away from his friend. “I dunno. I’m not tired.”

“You’re never fucking tired. Where’s the patient?”

Willow glanced around. Patrick Normal, better known as Psycho, was swaying softly beside the bar, apparently having forgotten he wanted a beer. “Psycho’s... having a time.”

Derek followed his gaze. “Fuck me, he’s maggoted.”

“Yeah, he’ll be up for hours. Better we’re still out with him, hey?”

“This is all your fault. If Mara was in town, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve made it clear you’ll be dogging the boys from now on, Hardo.”

The track Eden was playing bled into a remix of that Rasputin, love machine song. The dancers packed around the stage, jumping so hard the floor shook. Eden swished her white-blonde hair over her shoulder and his cock throbbed. He could see her doing that while she rode him—looking down her nose as he worked to make her come.

His side burst with pain. He rubbed it, glaring at Derek. “What’s your problem?”

“You. You’re making gorilla noises.”

“You could hear that?”

“Of course, I…” A look of barely concealed terror dawned on Derek’s face. A look Willow knew all too well. He backed away in case Derek decided to put him in a headlock. “What have I done now?”

Derek pointed at the stage. “Please tell me we’re not here because you want to fuck that DJ?”

Willow gave him a winning smile. “Do you want a drink?”

Derek scowled. “I wanna know if you dragged me all the way to the city to watch you fail to pick up a DJ?”

Willow ignored him. Thankfully he had a good reason to. On stage, Eden was peeling down her wedding dress to reveal a hot pink bra and boy shorts. The crowd screamed and whistled as she flexed her arms like a bodybuilder. Willow grinned. God, she was adorable. Adorable and fucking gorgeous.

Derek groaned. “Of course, you have a thing for this chick.”

“Because she’s stunning?”

“Because your life’s ambition is to worship hot chicks worshipping themselves.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“The fucking drama.” Derek shoved him. “I thought you were seeing that Gina-someone?”

“Broke things off.”

“Of course, you did.”

Willow was offended by this. “What? It wasn’t working. Anyway, she’s gone to Laos to film a show where you do a bikini catwalk and get voted off if no one wants to fuck you, or some shit.”

Derek muttered something he chose to ignore. It was easy for his mate, he’d already found the love of his life. Some people still had hunting to do. Though hopefully not for long. Eden’s set was almost over, and it was time to make his move.

Derek tapped his side. “Hey, is that Francis whoever? The ‘Lightning in the Sky’ guy?”

A young bloke had just walked on stage with a couple of girls. He wore a sequinned t-shirt and when he turned to kiss one of his companions, Willow saw two slashes in his right eyebrow. “Yup, that’s Francis Buchanan. How do you know? I thought you hated house music?”

“I do, but I might need to chat with him after this. Mara’s talking about booking him to play at our bachelor party.”

Willow frowned, then remembered Mara was a zillionaire and booking a massive DJ to play a party was well within her means. “You want Francis to play the bach?”

“Please don’t call it that. And no, I don’t give a fuck about this dickhead. I want whatever Mara wants. Let’s go over to him after the show.”

That was music to Willow’s ears because surely Francis would end up in the green room—exactly where Eden would be.

The set was reaching a crescendo. ‘Pear Drop,’ one of his favourite songs, cranked higher and higher as the crowd screamed. Willow danced. Francis Buchanan stopped kissing his ladyfriend to dance. Derek pulled out his phone.

On stage, Eden swayed, the muscles in her stomach rippling. He’d been to three of her shows and she always did this at the end, danced slowly, as though she were on a higher plane than the frantic energy around her. Calm and perfect. The drunk guy behind him had been right—she was a goddess. The song throbbed downward. Girls peeled off their t-shirts and threw them on stage. Eden raised her arms as they rained around her, blowing her fans kisses with perfect pink lips.

“She’s beautiful,” he told Derek. “Just kill yourself gorgeous, and I’m…” He spread his arms wide. “… working with what I’ve got.”

Derek squinted at him. “What’s the problem?”

Fuck it. He was tired of keeping it a secret. “I’m fully in love with her. She’s the one for me.”

“Mmm.” Derek dropped his gaze back to his phone.

Willow punched his arm. “Hello? I just said I loved someone.”

Derek didn’t look up. “When are you gonna realise when you constantly say you’re in love with everyone, people stop believing you?”

“I do not constantly say I’m in love with everyone!”

“Whatsh goin on boyzs?” It was Psycho, grinning from ear to ear, his pupils the size of dinner plates.

Derek glanced at him. “Skipping over how goddamn high you are, apparently Willow’s in love with the DJ.”

Psycho looked to where Eden was still blowing kisses into the crowd. “She’s prutty.”

“Thank you, Psycho. At least someone’s being supportive.”

Derek nudged their friend. “Think it’ll last?”

Somehow, Psycho’s eyes got wider. “Christ, no.”

He and Derek cracked up. Willow glared at them. “Fuck you both, this time’s different.”

“Ahhh, thatsh what you always say, bruuhhh.”

“Yeah, either that or, ‘I’ve never felt this way before.’”

Willow looked Derek in the eye. “Whatever. You’ll see. I’m bringing Eden to your wedding. Stealing the show right out from you and Mara.”

Derek jabbed a tattooed finger in his chest. “Don’t fuck up my wedding. And you’re fucked in the head if you think you’re getting a plus one.”

“What? Everyone else gets a plus one!”

“You’re not everyone, Ginger. Do you want to get kicked out of the groom party, altogether? You’re already on thin ice with the kilt thing.”

Psycho blinked his bugged-out eyes. “You’re Derek’s groomsman?”

“Sure am, Tiger. The second-best man.”

“Stop calling yourself that,” Derek snapped.

“Not going to happen.” Willow clapped a hand on Psycho’s shoulder. “Do you wanna wear a kilt to the wedding? It looks fantastic. Everyone at my cousin Marty’s wedding got laid and it was one hundred percent down to the kilts.”

“Reeeally?” said Psycho with interest. “What colour?”

Derek jammed his elbow into Willow’s side. Somehow, he kept getting him in the same spot. “Ow! Can you fucking stop that?”

“Can you stop repping kilts? Isn’t it bad enough you’re gonna be in one and throw off the whole vibe?”

“No, it’s what my people do!”

“Steal attention?”

Willow scoffed. “If I wanted to steal attention, I’d show up in a tux. Look just like James Bond.”

Psycho giggled and even Derek smiled. He wasn’t good-looking, at least not in a James Bond way. He was an old school ginger with orange hair and neon freckles. That and his big Scottish nose had got him compared to Nigel Thornberry more than once. It had broken his heart, but his high school girlfriend hadn’t exactly been wrong.

Byron—Derek’s best man—was good-looking. Psycho was good-looking. Even Derek was good-looking, if you were into grumpy cunts. He, on the other hand, had to rely on charm, money, having an eight pack, being able to cook, mastering oral sex and working as a professional football player. Not a bad arsenal, but that still didn’t mean he was the kind of guy a goddess like Eden was into.

She was still on stage, filming herself on someone’s phone before tossing it back to them. She moved like a ballerina, all floaty confidence, even in her ripped wedding dress.

Psycho gave a low whistle. “Very nice.”

“Yeah.” Willow watched her ass as she spun. “Some man on Instagram paid her a hundred bucks to spit on him.”

“I had a guy do that to me in under-eighteens for free,” Psycho said.

He and Derek chuckled, and Psycho looked pleased. He was new to the Hammerhead Football team, only twenty-one, and he still lapped up approval in an entirely adorable way. Willow had invited him on the Eden mission to keep Derek’s sulkiness in check. Although he hadn’t accounted for the drugs.

Psycho pointed at the stage. “Does she make all this up herself?”

Willow jammed an elbow in his side. “Of course, she does. What? Because she’s hot, she can’t make music?”

“Don’t jump up my dick, I’m just asking.”

“She writes it all herself. All the music, all the lyrics, except for remixes.”

Derek stared at him. “You’ve done your research.”

He had. Not that there was much to find. Bunny Descent had a cult following. An old interview said she started out using a gender-neutral stage name—plain old ‘Descent’—and wore a mask and baggy clothes on stage. She passed as a male DJ long enough to get her foot in the door, but when a fan caught her coming out of a girl’s bathroom with her mask pulled up,  she had to rethink her disguise. Willow loved that shit. It reminded him of the movie, ‘She’s The Man.’

He'd found out about Eden through a girl he’d been seeing. Millie, one of the masseuses at the Sharks, had brought him to one of Eden’s gigs—a bad move on her part.

The whole show, Willow had tried not to be an asshole, but he could barely tear his eyes away from Eden. She’d been wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a veil, her skin covered with gold paint and tattoos. It seemed like all the light in the room was pulled toward her, making her shine. After the gig, he’d been so crushed out, he could barely speak. He’d walked Millie home then practically ran back to his place to look up Bunny Descent. He found her music on Spotify, listening to it as he scrolled her Instagram and read niche Reddit threads. There he uncovered her full name. Eden Jade Cartwright. As he read those three words, a sizzle went down his spine.

I could say that a billion times and never get tired of it.

He’d never been into house music, but she made a believer out of him. It had an energy that was addictive. Soon it was the only thing he wanted to listen to when he was working out. He’d even managed to get her on the Hammerheads training mix a few times. For a while he’d been happy with his little crush, interested in meeting her, but not besotted.  Then he read an interview she did with Villain Magazine.

“Music pulls me out of my head and puts me back in the universe. On stage I don’t have to be Eden. I can be movement. Be music. It’s the only time I’m perfectly in the moment and I’m so addicted to it. It’s why I don’t mind playing shows at 6am or for twenty people, because the truth is, I’d do it for free.”

She was the first person to articulate exactly how he felt about football—how the movement, the moment, was better than money. Better than anything else. When he read that quote, he knew he needed to meet her.

On stage, Eden took one last bow before slipping behind a curtain and out of sight. The house lights went blue, and generic music began to play. The crowd surged away from the dance floor to the bar, the smokers’ area and the bathrooms. Willow watched as a familiar-looking Asian guy went on stage and collected the discarded t-shirts.

Derek cleared his throat. “So, what’s the plan, Chief? You gonna go backstage?”

“Nah, the Asian guy always stops me.”

“That was a joke. Please tell me you haven’t tried that?”

Willow looked away.

“Jesus, you have… How many times?”

“I dunno, sometimes you get away with it.”

Derek gave him a look that said he hoped Willow would die. Tough luck. People had been trying his whole life and no one had succeeded yet. Glancing at the stage, he thought the Asian guy looked to be in a better mood than usual. “Maybe I’ll try again.”

“I hope you do. I could use a fucking laugh.”

Willow weighed his chances. The worst the roadie could do was say no and amusing Derek was part of the master plan. He moved toward the stage. The Asian guy was roping up an extension cord, he had a shock of purple hair and stretchers in both ears. Willow caught his eye. “Hey, mate.”

The guy straightened. “What?”

“Is there any chance I could duck back there and meet Bunny Descent?”

“No.”

At least he didn’t mince words. Willow flashed his best smile. “I get this is your job, but I’m a huge fan and I just want to say ‘hey.’”

“We all want lots of things. Go back to your mate.”

Turning, Willow saw Derek was grinning from ear to ear. “Fuckhead.”

“Sorry?”

“Not you, mate,” he told the roadie. “Okay, I’ll get out of here. But I’ll be back. I’m not giving up.”

The guy waved an absent hand. “Sure thing.”

Willow returned to Derek. “No dice.”

“Oh, really? That incredibly well thought-out plan didn’t work?”

“Yup. Time for you to get me into the green room, buddy boy.”

Derek looked at the ceiling and groaned. “I fucking knew it. I’m out of here.”

Willow grabbed his arm. “What about Francis Buchanan?”

“Who?”

“The DJ. Don’t you wanna talk to him for Mara?”

“Yeah, but—”

“I can’t see him anywhere, so he must be backstage, which means we have to go backstage.”

Derek’s forehead contracted. “You think he’s in the green room?”

Buchanan was probably in the shitter, but Willow wasn’t above exploiting Derek’s need to give Mara whatever she wanted. As the bouncer just proved, his fame was hit and miss, but Derek’s was a golden ticket. He was one of the most recognisable guys in Australia and people only left him alone in places like this because he looked mean as a cut snake. With Derek at his side, they’d definitely get into the green room. “Mate, he’s gotta backstage. We need to go find him.”

“I dunno. I’m not lending you cred so you can go freak some girl out.”

“I’m not gonna freak Eden out! If I open and it falls flat, I won’t go near her ever again. I just wanna see if we click. I’ve got a great feeling about her.”

Derek rubbed his brow. “Willow, do you get sick of being wrong about women?”

“Hey, no one I’ve fucked has ever robbed me.”

Derek bared his teeth.

Fuck. He wasn’t supposed to razz him. At least not before they got backstage. He gave his mate an apologetic smile. “I take it back. And you’re marrying a hot millionaire, so you can’t be mad at me.”

“I can.” Derek’s face softened. “Alright, fuck it. Let’s give the green room a try.”

Willow punched him in the arm. “Yes!”

“For five minutes. I talk to Buchanan, you say hi to the DJ, then we get the fuck out of here and buy Normal some chewing gum. I think he’s taking a turn.”

Willow cast his gaze to where Psycho was dancing with a pretty brunette, albeit completely out of time with the music. “He’s fine. He’s upright. Let’s just… What?” he asked, as Derek’s brow scrunched. “What are you looking at?”

“I think that’s Andy.”

“Who?”

Derek pointed to where a new guy was talking to the roadie. He wore a white shirt and chinos and looked entirely out of place. “Yeah, that’s Chase’s boyfriend, Andy. What the fuck is he doing here?”

“Chase…? Your business guy? That American dude?”

“Yeah.”

Willow’s pulse spiked. “I’ve met him! Holy fuck, I’ve met Andy too! Let’s go up there and say hi. He might know Eden.”

“The fuck’s Eden?”

“Bunny Descent. My future wife?”

“Fuck me, you are not getting a plus one.”

Willow ignored him and headed for Andy. The Asian guy’s face was wary as he approached, but his expression changed when he saw Derek.

That’s right, motherfucker. I know people.

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.”

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