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Kate was older, and Nick didn’t talk to her much. He spent most of his time with Mickey going over each coming show and usually shut himself up in his hotel room the rest of the time. So they made it easy for her to fit in, laugh and joke, and she usually beat them playing cards. She was cutthroat, showing no mercy, and they respected her, although they used swear words in interesting combinations when she would win the ante pot. The security guys treated her the same way. Maybe even more protective as this was their main job – to keep the band members safe, especially from over-zealous fans.
    Kate was nervous at the first show but she was professional enough it wasn’t noticeable. Nick was observant enough to come over and make sure she was good. One of the questions he forgot to ask when he auditioned her was whether or not she got stage fright. She told him she was fine and indeed she was. Based on where the keyboards were located, she got a good view of the musician Nick Marshall. Everything about him exuded strength and confidence. He wore black motorcycle boots – she had jokingly asked him before the first show if he even had a motorcycle, to which he had said yes. He did admit he’d had the boots longer than the bike, which made her laugh. Nick wore black pants and a sleeveless button down shirt, usually leaving two or three buttons open. His hair was growing out – it was past shoulder length and she suspected he wore it long during shows for the effect. ‘The effect’ consisted of a whole arena or stadium full of girls screaming his name. Kate had to admit he did provide a nice view, even though she didn’t see him as more than her employer. For the rest of the band, Nick didn’t care what was worn for performances – whatever was most comfortable on stage, as long as it looked nice.
    The bus was currently stopped at a big hotel in Manhattan. Normally, the routine was for Mickey to hop out, go inside and register, while the bus would pull up to one of the back doors. Once Mickey came back, everyone would pile out, grab a suitcase, and head for their room. Whenever possible, Nick would reserve an entire floor just to maintain privacy and make it easier on security since no one but the maids were allowed up on that particular floor. This hotel had no apparent “back” door, so as soon as Mickey had the registration completed, everyone got off the bus, took a room key from him, and made their way through the gorgeous lobby. Kate was lagging behind, admiring the furnishings and the way it was all laid out when she heard her name called. She turned around, surprised to see her ex-husband, Kevin Miles, standing there.
    “Kevin,” she answered hesitantly, as he walked over to her. Ten years had changed him; his dark brown hair had grayed around the temples and he looked fifty, not the thirty-two she knew he was.
    “What are you doing here?” he asked, looking her over. It had been almost ten years since their divorce. She watched him as he looked her over, almost a leer in his eyes.
    She nodded to the security guard who was waiting. “Go ahead, Brock,” she told him. “I’ll be okay.” The security guard walked away but not completely out of sight. “I work for Nick Marshall these days,” she said, turning back to Kevin. “We have three shows at the Garden.” ‘The Garden’ obviously meant Madison Square Garden.
    “That’s a step down for you isn’t it?” he asked, with a snide tone.
    “I don’t think so,” she countered. “It’s a lot of hard work. A lot harder than the studio work I’d been doing.”
    “And I’m sure the nights are hard too.”
    Kate started to see red, picking up his innuendo. Their year of marriage was filled with these types of comments and statements meant to demean her. “You didn’t just insinuate I got the job because I’m sleeping with Nick or the band, did you?”
    He started to laugh. “Well, if the shoe fits.”
    Without another word, Kate reached