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hands slid down her arms, down her waist then up to her breast, making her moan again.
    “Please. Take me to your room.”
    I ducked back into the shadows feeling sick at what I’d just seen. I tried hard to ignore the stabbing sensation in my stomach; I knew the deal already. I knew him hooking up with women was something I might have to learn to handle, but seeing it happen right in front of me was a lot harder than I’d expected. Instead of turning into a weepy, girly mess, I took some deep breaths, and jolted when the club door opened, the handle digging into my back as it swung outwards.
    “Oh, I am so sorry.”
    Mr Biceps stepped through the door as I rubbed my back where he’d bumped me.
    “It’s okay,” I told him. “I shouldn’t have been standing in the way.” I started to move past him, but he caught my arm gently.
    “Are you okay?”
    I nodded, trying to regain control of my shallow breaths. “I just need a drink.”
    Or six.
    “Or… maybe we can talk?”
    I glanced up into the blue eyes of Mr Biceps, and when he smiled, a dazzling white-toothed smile, I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
    We stepped out of the dark doorway and walked around to the side of the club. My mind was very much on Jason and the woman with the gigantic norks, but I figured chatting to Mr Biceps, whose real name was Julien, would be better than getting smashed and having to deal with day two of the tour with a massive hangover. Even if he was lazy and a little self-obsessed.
    I leaned back against the wall of the club, trying to figure out exactly what we would talk about. We’d exchanged maybe ten words all day, and I was certain three of them had been me muttering, “Bloody useless prick,” under my breath while he checked his thick, dark hair before taking another photo of himself.
    “You don’t like the club?” he asked as he leaned back against the wall beside me.
    I shook my head. “It’s not that. I just wanted a break from the noise.”
    Julien nodded. “I was going to have a smoke, but…” he looked me up and down appreciatively, “…I think talking with you might be better.”
    I couldn’t fault his English, and a small part of me got a kick out of the way he looked at me. I was only wearing jeans and a black vest top, and black boots – there was no point wearing my best clothes to a grimy club. The girl Jason had picked up had been wearing a short, figure-hugging dress and killer heels, probably with the sole intention of hooking up with someone. Crappy as I felt about witnessing that, I was secure enough in myself that I didn’t feel the need to tart myself up just to attract attention. If I couldn’t get attention simply by being me, I didn’t want it.
    I turned to face him, my shoulder still against the wall. “So, how did you get a job with Razes Hell?”
    Julien smiled the kind of smile you see on magazine covers. He looked more suitable for modelling work than lugging heavy equipment around. “My father is the owner of this club. I am a big fan of Razes Hell, so he asked if I could help today. I was very happy to meet them.”
    Mmhmm. That was clear from the amount of snaps you took with your phone.
    “Will you be helping tomorrow night too?” I asked.
    “No. It was just for tonight.” He pushed away from the wall with his foot and turned, taking a small step closer to me. “You will be going on the rest of the tour with the band?”
    “Yes.”
    “I have been watching you today. You are a writer?”
    “Not yet, but maybe one day. I’m studying journalism at university. I’m writing about the tour as… practice, I guess.”
    “They are very lucky to have such a beautiful woman with them.” He smiled again, his head tilting to the side slightly as his eyes flicked up and down my body again. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. After all, he certainly had the charm thing down. Score another point for France – not only was there magic in the air, the men had… if not class, at least better