Life really was unfair.

Chapter 18

The next three days were surreal. Kit had had no idea just how many people had secretly been hoping for a hookup between her and Noah. “It’s like this giant underground network of Noah and Kathleen shippers,” she said to Thea and Molly when she met the two women for coffee later that week. Becca hadn’t been able to make it, so Kit planned to catch up with her the following morning.

Today, she, Thea, and Molly were at a cafe down the road from Thea’s office, seated around a sunny outdoor table. The odd photographer had snapped a shot, but for the most part, they were left alone. Kathleen Devigny with girlfriends wasn’t as good a score, financially speaking, as Kathleen Devigny with Noah St. John.

“They call themselves the NoKats.”

Mouth falling open at Thea’s response, Kit shoved her sunglasses to the top of her head. “NoKats? Are you kidding me? We already have a nickname?”

“You always did,” Thea said, sanguine and in control as always, her sleek black hair in an elegant twist at the back of her head and her golden-skinned face expertly made up. “It was low level, nothing worth bothering about. People love shipping fantasy couples, and most of the time it doesn’t go anywhere.”

“But—”

“All these years while you hung out with Schoolboy Choir,” Thea said, slicing into her blueberry muffin, “you had to know fans were starting to imagine things.”

“Why with Noah?”

“The chemistry, babe,” Thea said after chewing and swallowing a bite of her muffin. “But it wasn’t just Noah. The AbKats are bummed. The KatiDid and DeFox groups already threw in the towel since Molly and I had the bad form to come between you and David and you and Fox.”

Eyes narrowed, Kit glared at a laughing Molly. “Your sister is making this up to screw with me, right?”

But Molly shook her head, her brown eyes teary with laughter and her creamy skin flushed. Pushing her beautiful tumble of black hair behind her ears, she spoke through her amusement. “Thea showed me one of the forums on the way here.” A hiccup as she tried to catch her breath. “I reckon the AbKats are still holding out hope you’ll dump Noah for Abe.”

“Oh for God’s sake.” Kit wished she’d ordered wine rather than iced green tea. “And who the hell came up with NoKats? At least you and Fox got Foxy.”

“Fox hates it, but I tell him at least it’s better than Folly.” Molly’s eyes danced as she reminded Kit of her suggestion. “David and Thea don’t have one though. How come?”

“Because I’m a PR specialist who doesn’t like to be in the media myself,” Thea said. “I quashed that little bug before it sprouted.”

“You couldn’t do the same for the NoKats?”

“Sorry, Kit, but the NoKats and co were good for your brand.” Thea checked an incoming e-mail. “They were just waiting to believe. Now they’re lighting up the Internet.”

Eating a bite of the carrot cake she’d split with Molly, Kit put down her fork. “This is getting out of control.” Panic beat at her—because instead of dying down, the attention only seemed to be gathering steam. “We’re never going to be able to walk away without damage.”

“It’s early days,” Thea said without the least tension in her voice. “You’re new and shiny. My spies tell me another new and shiny couple is forming in the wings as we speak—in a blatant attempt to steal some of your limelight—so you’ll get a breather soon.”

“Who?” Molly leaned forward, then winced. “Damn it, I’m supposed to stop with my celebrity-gossip addiction.”

“It’s not gossip.” Thea patted her sister’s hand. “It’s intel. And this manufactured hookup is going to be between Abigail Rutledge and Garrison Stone.”

Kit sucked in a breath. Abigail was the rumored frontrunner for the lead role in Redemption, and Garrison was said to be a shoo-in for lead male. Lowering her voice, she leaned toward the other women. They instinctively dipped their heads toward her.

“I didn’t want to jinx it by saying anything,” she whispered. “But Harper told me this morning that Esra might be considering me for the female lead rather than the secondary role.” Her heart thumped at even the idea of it.

“Oh my God.” Voice low but excited, Molly squeezed Kit’s hand.

Thea smiled, no hint of startled excitement on her face.

Spies, Kit reminded herself. Thea had spies everywhere. “But if Abigail’s got Garrison on her arm…”

 “Pfft,” the publicist said after eating another bite of her muffin. “Garrison’s doing Abigail a favor because she once did him one, but they have no chemistry. Zero. Zilch. If I was their PR manager, I’d have nixed the idea. They’re only going to show the world—and Esra—exactly how bad they’d be as an on-screen couple.”

“Are you sure?” Kit frowned. “Abigail is an excellent actress and Garrison is brilliant.”

“I could be wrong,” Thea allowed. “It has happened once or twice in known history.” A wry smile. “Which is why it’s good you’ll be at Zenith with Noah this weekend.”

Kit’s stomach flipped. The outdoor festival was out of town, which meant everyone would expect her to share Noah’s bus. Zenith’s location made any other option impossible.

So far, she and Noah had gotten away with public “dates” and one night where he’d stayed in her guest bedroom, but there’d be no way to avoid the intimacy forced by the festival.

“Is it really worth it?” she said to both women.

Molly, who knew all about her history with Noah, touched her hand again, this time with the gentleness of a friend attempting to offer comfort. “Noah’s really happy to be able to help you. I think he’s…”

Thea sighed when Molly faded off. “Seriously you two, give it up. Information is my job. I know you”—a glance at Kit—“and Noah actually had a thing a while back, but since you kept it private, I didn’t interfere. Clearly it didn’t end well?”

Kit nodded, unable to say anything further.

But Thea was smart and she’d had her own bad breakup. “If it was caused by what I think caused it, then I give you major props for not cutting off his balls and throwing them in his face.”

“He didn’t cheat,” Kit said, because to cheat, you first had to make a commitment. Noah had never given her that.

Theirs had always been a mirage of a relationship.

Standing on the main stage at Zenith on Friday morning, Noah plugged his guitar into the amplifier, checked the settings, and played a short solo—or tried to—to test the sound. A screech of feedback had him stopping with a wince. “Maxwell!” he yelled to the crew chief, who was working out in front of the stage. “You trying to blow out my eardrums?”

“If I was,” the bearded man yelled back, “they’d have gone boom!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Noah hunkered down to look at the various cables and connections, saw the problem just as one of Maxwell’s people came up and fixed it.

“Sorry, man,” he said to Noah. “Totally my screwup.”

“Forget it.” Shit happened. That was why Schoolboy Choir was out here this morning checking everything. They’d kick off the festival tonight with a big show, then do another set Saturday afternoon. The festival officially ended Sunday at midday, but Friday night and Saturday were the big events.

Zenith was one of Noah’s favorite festivals. This stage and the two smaller stages to the left and the right, open fields between them, were the only “buildings” around for what appeared to be miles. People brought their own tents to camp in, and the city supplied sanitation and medical facilities, while food trucks were plentiful.

Unlike other festivals that often descended into mud and alcohol-fueled fights that messed with the music, the organizers had done a great job of keeping Zenith wild—sometimes crazy wild—but trouble-free year after year.