PREVIEW - One Night Only - Coming to Amazon and Kindle Unlimited in May 2025!

Chapter One

My boyfriend Bowie's excuse for why he won't be at my concert arrives in a text during sound check. I already expected the message, so it's not a surprise. His schedule for bailing on me runs like clockwork these days.

I can't make it tonight, babe. Something came up.

He tacks on a sad-face emoji and a "c u tomorrow?" in a separate text that arrives a few seconds later. It's an afterthought—something to make it seem like he cares when he knows he's being a jerk.

I shove my phone in my bag and wonder what the "something" keeping him away from my show is this time. A date with some weed, maybe, or too many beers at rehearsal with his band. He's seventeen like me and too young to buy either of these things himself, but his band's drummer, Luke, is twenty-one, and Luke is Bowie's main supplier. Luke also offers me whatever drugs or booze he has on hand whenever I pop by one of their rehearsals or am backstage with Bowie at his shows. I decline every time. My so-called significant other never does.

But Bowie's text is readable this time, so he might be sober. If partying isn't keeping him away tonight, I don't want to think about what is. Or, if recent tabloid rumors turn out to be true, who she is. Speculation about Bowie cheating on me has run rampant across social media and entertainment sites lately. He claims it's nothing but lies.

I should know better than to read the tabloids, but they've become a fixture in our lives. I'm Cayden Indigo, after all, and Bowie is Bowie Nelson. Both of us have had back-to-back singles skyrocket to the top of the charts this year, along with press coverage claiming we're the two hottest teen pop acts out there at the moment. Ignoring the chatter would help me protect my peace, but it's hard not to notice the thousands of social media shares per minute when my fans and Bowie's tag me.

Some fans are concerned, and some want me to dump him. Then there's the group of Bowie's followers who can't stand me and are just plain vindictive. Some days it's the bright pink, blue, or purple wigs I wear at shows and in public that bother them. They would probably also find fault with my natural dark brown hair, if they ever saw it. Other days I'm too pale or too tan, too short, or have eyes that appear too vibrantly blue to be their real color, depending on who's complaining. It sometimes feels like I have a million haters, which is kind of impressive for someone who isn't even old enough to vote.

"Will Bowie be missing in action tonight?" my best friend Sawyer asks. He takes the seat between me and Carter, his boyfriend, while his shaggy hair flops in front of his eyes. Either his bestie radar is pinging, or I made a face at my phone while reading Bowie's message and he saw it.

"What's the rule for this in your game? Two drinks of water?" It's more sad than funny that Bowie's transgressions are now the basis of a water-drinking game.

"Three," he replies, raising his bottle of water to his lips. He takes three gulps. I remove the cap from my water and do the same.

"I'll be hydrated for my set, anyway." I examine a strand of hot pink hair from the wig I'm already wearing for tonight's show.

"Again? It's time to ditch him, Deni." Carter puts his phone down and sticks his hand out for Sawyer's water. He also takes three drinks.

Breaking up with Bowie has crossed my mind more than once lately. I came close to doing it a couple of weeks ago and even practiced what I would say. Then Bowie showed up at my house, surprising me with takeout from my favorite Chinese restaurant, flowers, a plan to watch a rom-com, and apologies for how busy he's been with rehearsals and interviews about his new album.

The problem with Bowie is how attentive and charming he is when we're together. The problem with me is I fell for the attention and charm in the moment. I talked myself out of dumping him—partly because of that, and partly because of the thought of dealing with my publicist and label. None of them have any say in my personal life, but I'm aware of the millions of dollars riding on Bowie and me right now.

We signed the contract to co-headline a summer concert tour before he asked me out, back when he was nothing more to me than a fellow musician I ran into at record label events and award shows. In hindsight, both of us should have known better than to get involved before we'd be together twenty-four seven on the road. If we break up now, that's a lot of awkward for the next couple of months, especially since we're supposed to perform a song together for the encore of each show.

"Maybe after the tour," I say.

Carter frowns. It isn't clear if this is in response to me putting off the inevitable, or the reminder that he and Sawyer will be apart for two months. Sawyer will hit the road with me this summer as the tour's opening act, while Carter stays in LA to shoot a film.

"Do you really want to be tied to this mess on the road?" Carter asks.

He has a point, but all of us sitting here are aware of reality. The summer tour sold out stadiums and festivals within minutes of tickets going on sale. Even if I ended things with Bowie today, we would still be on tour together. The only hope to cling to is that being on the road and having to travel and perform almost every day will force him to focus.

"I'll have your back on tour, whatever you decide," Sawyer assures me.

He will, because he always has, since the day we met at our performing arts school. And we'll have a blast together during days off from the tour, hitting up beaches and water parks, or exploring whatever city we're in. It's up to Bowie if he hangs out with us or parties with Luke and the rest of his band.

"We're ready for you, Cayden." The sound engineer's voice carries across the room.

"Looks like I'm up." I hop out of my chair and make my way on to the stage, happy to pause the conversation and turn my attention to something else.

I wait while one of the crew lowers my mic stand and look out at the club. The scattered chairs out now will be put away after sound check, clearing the space for concert-goers to pack the floor for my one-night-only performance here at The Domino. It's been a while since I've played somewhere that holds less than a few thousand people. Tonight's show in my hometown of LA is the second-last one before the summer tour, and I'm looking forward to something smaller and more intimate before the weeks of stadiums, arenas, and festivals ahead. Tonight, I'll get to see actual faces in the crowd and connect with some of the fans who have propelled me to where I am. Nothing else will matter for a couple of hours.

Bowie, and whatever apologies and excuses he has this time, can wait.

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Hi everyone! The Kindle pre-order of ONE NIGHT ONLY is available on Amazon! (See the link in the inline comment.) It will also be available through Kindle Unlimited upon release. I can't wait to bring you all the ad-free, revised, and edited edition!