Keely stared at the outfit with bulging eyes. “You expect me to wear this?”

“Well Andy chose it specifically for this concert, so, yes, yes I do,” answered Maureen easily as she looked down at her phone. “Oh, Keely, no wardrobe fits, you wore that dress to the movie premiere.”

“That was different! This is just all Olivia Newton John on John Travolta!”

“Call it whatever you want, it's what you're wearing for this performance.”

Being shoved by Maureen was something a person who was on her record label simply could not refuse, so Keely grudgingly snatched up the carefully laid out outfit in her arms and stalked back to her change room. Her change room actually happened to be a bathroom, but who was really counting? At least it didn't smell bad.

But as she stripped out of her grey sweatpants and white tank top, she realized that the clothes that had been chosen for her to wear could have been much worse, after all she'd seen some of the outfits that Marissa had to wear while on stage. In fact, compared to that, she had it quite good. The black leather pants looked like they'd be tight, but paired with the plain brown leather belt that had the big belt buckle and the cream bohemian style shirt that cut a bit too low for comfort, but hung loose – though flatteringly – off her body with sleeves to her elbows. Now that she thought about it, the whole outfit had a bit of a Jim Morrison feel.

The moment she got home she was looking at pictures of Jim Morrison at concerts, she was sure this was just a feminize version of one of his outfits.

It was really just the ankle breaking red heels that Keely was worried about, they looked rather dangerous off of her feet. Sure she wore heels when the mood strikes, but not even half the height of the ones she'd been given. Plus it was known that she could be fatally clumsy, and if she'd learned anything from all those practices in the warehouse with the boys it was that she loved to move around when she was performing, sure she wasn't near as eccentric as the artist she was being dressed after was on stage, but still. It just didn't seem like a good pairing.

Carefully bringing the curls over her shoulders, Keely looked at herself in the mirror, bracing her hand upon the porcelain sink.

The girl in the mirror didn't look like her at all, having had hair and makeup artist attack her face all day for her debut performance. Her hair had prefect loose curls, her eyes delicately shaded with dark shadow, her skin pale and flawless beneath the lights and her lips smooth and plump.

Yeah, the only thing Keely recognized in herself was her green eyes, and even those looked a bit wide and terrified.

She had gotten so used to the no make up, ripped jeans, concert tees and forgetting to brush her hair that Keely had forgotten what she really looked like when she dressed up. To be truthful, when Haley dressed her up, she'd always been like a life sized doll for her best girl friend. And if she continued on in the honesty mode, she would say she liked the messy musician look better.

Hastily pushing up from the sink, Keely cut out of her makeshift dressing room and down that hall.

“Hey?! Where are you going?” called Maureen's voice from behind her.

For once she didn't stop, which might be considered rude, but she was feeling close to panic at the thought of performing. “I need some air,” she shouted in response, waving a hand carelessly at the woman behind her before shoving out of the side door.

The alley was grimy, dark and damp, but that wasn't a surprise, it was a New York alleyway after all. Letting out a groan, Keely leaned against the metal door, thankfully for the cool air beating on her forehead. Inside was too warm, she could hear the music the DJ was playing to keep the crowd occupied until she got on stage along with the congested crowd. She did really want to play again, she could remember clearly the high that came with preforming and she'd love to feel it again, but at the moment it was the nerves she was feeling the most.

“Hey rebel.”

As she screeched, flinging her hands to her mouth and jumping away from the wall Keely couldn't help but think people really seemed to like to terrify her.

“What the hell Seth?!” she exclaimed, resisting the urge to run a hand through her hair as she knew she might be crucified for the action.

He chuckled, dipping one hand in the front pocket of his jeans as he leaned against the wall. He looked just ask casual as ever; the rumpled hair, shining golden eyes, white shirt and black leather jacket. Her eyes narrowed instantly when she saw the cigarette in his other hand paired with the smoke and stench around them. “I like the pants,” he told her easily.

Wincing she lifted her leg up slightly, feeling the leather constricting her movement. “They're kind of tight,” she replied, her nose wrinkling.

He smirked at her, letting the hand that held the smoke dangle beside his leg forgotten. “I think that's what I like about them.”

Scowling Keely reached out and shoved him on the shoulder, just making him laugh, but the dimple in his cheek didn't appear. “Yeah, okay, pervert.”

“You're legal,” he pointed out, grinning at her.

“But not willing,” she returned smoothly, grinning slightly, rubbing a palm against her thigh unconsciously. “It feels like you're giving me whiplash half the time, Ryan.”

Seth just arched an eyebrow in her direction. “Hm?”

“Smoking, really? Are you trying to kill your voice?”

Sighing he leaned his head back against the stone wall, looking up to the starless sky. “Half of the artist that are in your music collection smoked, rebel, it's not unheard of. Johnny Cash, Joplin, Elvis, Sinatra, all of The Doors, Hendrix, Cobain, do you want me to keep listing?”

“Yeah, well smoking wasn't exactly know to be disgusting during Elvis' time, was it?”

“It was for Cobain,” retorted Seth, letting his gaze angle towards her.

Keely rolled her eyes, wishing she could rub her temples, but knowing she'd be killed for the simple action. “You do realize that half of those artist you listed died young, right? Half of them are in the twenty seven club.”

“Maybe I want to be part of the twenty seven club,” he answered, “That still gives me six years to make my masterpiece.”

Ignoring the comment, she sighed, “Sometimes you make no sense, seriously. You're a guitarist, but you punch people and that could break your hand, meaning you might never play again, at least not as well as you do now. And you're a singer, but you smoke and that's only going to screw with your voice.”

Smirking again, he looked her way. “I'm a mystery wrapped in an enigma, hidden by a riddle and guarded by a Sphinx.”

Keely snorted, “If you said that to anyone else they'd have no idea what you were talking about.”

“Why do you think I chose you?” he asked, but his voice was quiet. And suddenly he just flicked away the half smoked cigarette into one of the questionable looking puddles in the alley. “So what are you doing out here?” Seth continued before she could question him further.

Giving another sigh, Keely directed her eyes to the mouth of the alley where she could see people rushing to get into the front doors of the club. “It was getting too hot in there.”

“Don't worry about it, rebel. You were great during the sound check, so were the boys. As long as you sing the same and Marco doesn't die on stage, we're good to go. There's no reason that Marco should die on stage, so don't worry about it.”

Laughing, Keely looked back to him, “Well, that's comforting.”

He sent her a crooked grin. “That's what I'm here for.”

“Really? I thought you were here to yell at me when you think my songs are crap,” she returned, smiling.

“That too.”

That got another laugh out of her, and Keely lifted her eyes to the dark sky, when she lowered them, looking back to the mouth of the alley. It was odd that the nerves in her stomach had been soothed a little. “Well, I've got to go deal with Maureen while I feel like someone's life sized doll that they decided to dress up in leather pants and slather in makeup.”

The feel of the hand on her cheek had Keely's eyes snapping to Seth, looking into his golden eyes. The hand that cupped her cheek and hair was warm, she could feel the guitar callouses softly through her hair along with the comforting heat and familiar tingles that came every time they touched. “You look gorgeous Keely,” he told her, using his low voice, “So far from a dress up doll.”

Dipping her hands into her pockets, Keely returned, “An improvement from my usual self, I'm guessing?”

He smiled, the dimple making an appearance in his cheek. “You look gorgeous then, too.”

Returning the smile, Keely chewed on her bottom lip as she looked at him. “I should go inside,” she said moments later.

Dropping his hand, Seth moved back to the wall. “I'll meet you in there. By the way, you got to go in the front way, rebel, that door locks from the inside.”

Scowling at the big metal door, Keely made her way to the entrance of the alley way. Thankfully she had spoken to the bouncer beforehand, because she doubted she'd get in the with her lack of an ID, and even if she did have her driver's license, eighteen wouldn't been enough to get her into the club, twenty one at the least.

Hastily she began to cit through the crowd, she had back stage with the boys on her mind. Well, she did, until another voice caused her to halt.

“Hi Keely!” greeted Rachael, wearing that hundred watt smile that now looked incredibly fake to Keely's eyes, she could only wonder if it was painful to wear. “Here, come with me to the bar,” she ordered, slipping her arm through Keely's.

Before she could even say a word in protest, Keely was being dragged through the crowd.

“Get me two tequila shots,” demanded Rachael at the bar. She let go of Keely's arm, but only so she could rest her arms on the bar, leaning forward so she showed enough cleavage to be arrested for public indecency and smiled flirtatiously at the bartender.

Gritting her teeth in annoyance already from the girl's very presence, Keely rested an elbow on the bar so she could look fully at the brunette. “What-”

But Rachael interrupted her, saying, “Here,” as she shoved one of the shots in Keely's direction.

Wordlessly, Keely shoved it back.

Downing her shot easily, Rachael sent her a questioning look, “What?”

“I don't want to drink before I go on stage,” answered Keely stiffly. She might have started tapping her foot had she not been worried about falling from the stilts strapped to her feet.

Rachael just laughed, sending her a condescending look as she too the shot meant for Keely with ease. “Little girl, everyone has a drink before they go on stage. You better learn that soon, you probably won't have a chance for the later.”

“Why are you here tonight?” questioned Keely through clenched teeth.

“I had to seem my boyfriend some time, didn't I?” replied Rachael, smiling coyly at the bartender as she ordered another drink, but this time only for herself. “Every time I call him lately he's working with you or on his new album, I don't know why.”

At this point Keely gave up trying to smile, it would have been impossible anyways. “Because he wants it to be good!”

Rachael rolled her eyes, picking up her new drink, now a martini, and turning around so her back was leaning against the bar. “The other NSR albums were good, they won album of the year last year and went multi platinum.”

Appalled Keely just looked at the girl open mouthed. “How could you say that? Those albums were awful, there no meaning or emotion in them. You should know that, your music isn't bad.”

The girl gave another laugh. “You actually think I control my own music? Oh, that's sweet. I can't even read music, sweetie, I just sing whatever I'm told to and then I'm out.” At Keely's shocked expression, Rachael snorted, turning so they were face to face. “Another thing you should learn about this industry, nobody cares if your music is good, it will always be about the bottom line, and that's money.”

Losing the shocked expression, Keely finally full on glared at the girl. And she'd thought Seth was bad. Yes, he was annoying and moody, but he was nothing like Rachael. “You're wrong-”

Yet the girl just interrupted her again. “Why do you think I'm dating Seth? It's all for the money. He manages to get himself into the tabloids so much without even trying, and especially with people thinking he's cheating on me with you, which I don't understand by the way, why would he cheat on me with you? But I get to play the poor sweet little wronged girlfriend. My record sales are through the roof for my name just being tied in with his.”

Straightening, Keely felt her fists clenching. Who talked like that? How did someone become that twisted and manipulative? Ignoring her latest speech, Keely said, “You're wrong. It's the music industry, it will always come back to music in the end. And you're just a disgusting person on so many levels.”

Rachael laughed, placing her hand on Keely's arm. “Sweetie, I'm the kind of person that survives this industry, not many can, you're just too naive to see it yet. You're a worn out rock cliche, coming to New York and pretending to be all about the music. When no one buys your first album, you'll either be dropped with that annoying self righteousness or you'll go into the pop scene. That's the only reason you got the record deal, because with a lot of work you could be pretty enough to be a pop star.”

Seeing Maureen waving at her from the door that lead back stage over Rachael's shoulder, Keely met the girl's eyes boldly one last time. “Well this “worn out rock cliche” is going to go up on stage while you watch from the crowd.”

With that she shoved past the girl, stalking through the crowd.

The moment she was through the door and away from the congested room of people, Keely could feel her annoyance dripping away, letting her heart beat slow.

Colton slipped an arm around her shoulders, asking concerned, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” she answered, relaxing into his arm, allowing the tension to leave her. Looking straight at Seth, Keely said, “Your girlfriend is a fucking ball of sunshine, you know?”

He laughed sarcastically, “Yeah, that's how I describe her everyday.”

“You guys have a minute before you have to go one!” Maureen called.

At those words Marco joined them, grabbing his bass as he did so. Seth too walked to their group of three, moving his guitar around so the strap held it against his back as he handed Keely her guitar by the neck, making Colton drop his arm.

“You're not going to forget the words to your songs are you?” teased Marco.

“Or fall in those high heels,” added in Colton who couldn't seem to resist.

Keely glared at them.

Rolling his eyes, Seth shoved away his friends, who – still laughing – made their way towards the doors that opened onto the stage. “You okay?”

“As long as I don't forget the words to my songs or fall,” she retorted stiffly, her stomach jumping.

Seth grinned, “Don't worry about it. You won't, it's really not that easy to forget words to songs we've been practising for two weeks straight. As for the falling, I can make no promises but to try and catch you.”

“Well, that's... comforting, I guess?”

“Seth, Keely, time to get on stage!”

At Maureen's call, they made their way to where the boys were standing looking out at the congested club. The DJ was announcing them as they stood there, Keely's nerves jumping up into her throat.

Being nudged by Seth onto the stage, Keely slipped the guitar strap over her shoulder and walked to the microphone stand at the front of the stage, hooking the Fender up to an amp as she did so.

Not bothering to introduce them since it would seem redundant, Keely just began to play the first chords of her song For You. Seth had thought it would be best to open their set with a song that the people would already know. When she heard the bass join in, the smile was making its way onto her face and she finally looked up from her guitar.

The club could have had a thousand more people or none at all for all she knew. She was playing her song in front of these people, and that's all she needed. The song was sucking her back in to herself, and Keely let it, loving the feeling you get when you're so wrapped up in music that you never want to let go. All those nerves were just gone. They might have never even existed for all she knew. The conversation with Rachael was out of her mind while she played. All that mattered at that point was the music, and she stepped up to the mic to sing.

It was perfect, better than it had been in the sound-check. Her voice was perfect, smooth with just the barest hint of raspiness to make it interesting as it hit notes that most singers just dreamed about. The music behind her was the same, the bass crisp, the drums flawless and the guitar was just perfect; all what she should have expected from the boys.

After a few cover songs, Keely found herself smiling broadly, that high from being on stage already in full effect as the crowd was cheering.

As she handed her guitar off to one of the stage technicians as she wasn't supposed to be playing the guitar for the next song, Keely couldn't help but send a little wave with a smug smile in Rachael's direction still at the bar.

But the drums played a different song then they were supposed to.

Wide eyed, Keely leaned back away from the mic, mouthing a confused “What?” to the boys behind her.

Grinning Seth stepped up, beginning to play the guitar easily even as he whispered to her, “Change of plans, we're playing a different song.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Blondie's Call Me?! You couldn't have told me before so I wasn't blind sided?”

He shrugged, “You know the words, sing.”

“You want me to sing about a booty call?”

That got him to smirk, “Just sing, rebel.”

Rolling her eyes at him, Keely turned back to the microphone, putting a huge smile on her face as she held both hands on either side of the mic in front of her. It was a good thing she did know that song, because if she didn't she might have murdered the boys right on stage.

“Call on me, oh call up, baby.

Call on me, oh call.

Call on me oh call up, darling.

I know who you are.

Come up off your calling chart.

I know where you're coming from.

Call me (call me) on the line.

Call me, call me any anytime.

Call me (call me), I'll arrive.

You can call me any day or night.

Call me!

Cover me with kisses, baby.

Cover me with love.

Roll me in designer sheets.

I'll never get enough.

Emotions come, I don't know why.

Cover of love's alibi.

Call me (call me) on the line.

Call me, call me any anytime.

Call me (call me), I'll arrive.

When you're ready we can share the wine.

Call me.

Ooh, he speaks the languages of love.