I lean in closer. “Oh, I haven’t . . .Uncle.”
“That’s enough.” He steps back, annoyance written in his scowl as he pulls his phone from his pocket and begins tapping on the damn thing. “Find out why the girl’s here. Who she is. She’s got to be connected to another label. I’m certain. And keep your ears and eyes open for anything else.” He doesn’t lift his gaze.
“If you ask me to sleep with her, I’d find all that out and more.”
Bedo’s gaze snaps up. It was my intent to gain his attention with my comment, but I’m surprised to find the trace of a smile cross his lips. “You know what? That might just work. Last resort, of course. Toy with her for now. Keep her close but no fucking. I mean it. You’re nothing to these guys, totally replaceable. It’s not worth the risk. Not yet.”
“Sure, whatever you want.” I try not to let his words get to me, because I know they’re true, and not personal. Doesn’t mean they sting any less. I wonder what it’d be like, to be wanted for more than social connections or sex or temporary motives. What it’d be like to have friends who go to bat and have your back no matter what life throws. Sad. Really, because that’s something I’ll never experience. Not with millions for an inheritance and Wellington as a last name.
“Bedo?” Trent calls down the hall.
Shit.I don’t know what to do. I can’t run or slink off without Trent noticing, so I turn and act like it’s no big deal to be having a private chat with the band manager.Fuck, I hope I pull it off.
Trent’s eyes widen as they meet mine, and he tilts his head. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize—”
“New kid forgot to initial one of the pages to his contract.” My uncle slaps my back before patting the briefcase in his other hand—a briefcase I never even noticed him carrying. Maybe he really is the devil. “Everything good, Trent?”
“Ready to hit the stage. We almost on?”
“I’ll check with Jimmy.” Bedo strides toward the hall that leads back stage. The bass drum reverberates along with the wail of a guitar. Everlyn stops playing, and in the absence of their music a roar of applause hits my ears.
“New kid, you ready for all this?” Trent nods toward the noise.
God, I really hope that nickname doesn’t stick. “Oh, I’m ready. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this my whole life.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “And that’s what exactly? Twenty-one, twenty-two years?”
I clear my throat and straighten my spine. “I’ll be nineteen at the end of summer.”
“No shit!” Trent’s eyes go wide and he meets my stare. When I don’t look away or change my answer he glances up at the sky and squeezes his eyes shut as if that’ll make me older. Or maybe he’s only attempting to tamp down his irritation.
Sucks, I get it, but I don’t have it in me to feel bad. His reaction is familiar territory. I played my first symphony at ten years old. People have always assumed I’m older than I am. Mostly because of my skills as a musician, but also because of how I carry myself—one positive attribute from the etiquette training my parents insisted upon.
Trent meets my gaze.He’s not mad.“You really are a musical genius, aren’t you?” He shakes his head, the hint of laughter in his tone.
I shrug, not wanting to come across as arrogant.
“You can’t even deny it. I remember what we sounded like when we were nineteen and it was pretty much crap. Dude. We’re so lucky to have you.” He lifts his hand for a high five.
“Thanks.” I slap his hand and he pulls me in to clasp my back before stepping away. His compliment is unexpected. It takes me off guard. “I’m thankful for the opportunity. I love your music. I’ve been following you guys since Pursuit of Ugliness dropped.”
“Dude.” Trent shakes his head, his hair falling into his face before he whips it back. “Just stop. What were you, like fifteen?”
I let loose a chuckle. “Yeah.”
“Let’s not mention that again.” He slings his arm around my shoulder and walks us toward the green room. “Like, ever.”
“Deal.” My lips pull wide with a genuine smile and I realize I’m not nervous anymore.
11
Opal
From the secondwe hit San Francisco the guys are whisked off to get ready for the show and I can finally breathe.Free. Not that there’s anything wrong with the guys. It’s more I don’t know how to relax in a room of hot and famous rock stars. Especially the two I’m painstakingly attracted to.
Austin’s a flirt, and friendlier than the bad boy he portrays online. Yeah, I Googled him after he offered to teach me to play guitar. He’s insanely gorgeous, and his inked skin only adds to the attraction. But I can’t imagine I’m more than a toy to him. He’s older than me by more than ten years, and more experienced in every facet of life. Totally intimidating. Even though he has this uncanny ability to make me laugh, I feel the need to guard my heart against his infectious smile. He’s trouble and I know it.
Then there’s Leighton.Sigh. He’s the type of guy I’d crush on back home. Clean cut. Intelligent. A strong jaw and cheekbones reminiscent of the old Hollywood bad boys. James Dean. Brando. Those deep-set eyes that hold equal parts mischief and darkness. I don’t know his exact age but I’d guess he’s much closer to me than Austin. Which is stupid to even contemplate because neither man is interested. They’re not merely way out of my league, they’re in another atmosphere.
