“Nothing! Don’t worry, no one expects anything from you. Least of all me.”
Ouch. “Naomi, come on. I just…”
“It’s fine! Whatever! Go do your band stuff. I’ll be invisible. You won’t even know I exist. Poof.” She flashes her fingers with magic dust and shoves her earbud in all the way, drowning out any response I could have. Just to be sure I have no chance, she closes her eyes as well, and I grunt in frustration before backing out of the room.
Clenching my fists, I have exactly a minute to rein in my frustrations before facing my new band. I don’t get it. Any of it. She seemed fine when we left the apartment, almost excited. Even when we pulled into the lot there was that flicker of a smile I hadn’t seen before. Then… this. She looked like she could stab me if she wasn’t able to get rid of me fast enough. What changed? What did I do wrong? Will I ever figure out any of this shit? She’s got food. A roof. An adult who’s making sure she gets to school every day. She already has more than I did half the time.
Now I’m down to ten seconds.
I still feel the blood boiling in my veins when I round the corner back toward the entrance. Max was coming out of Studio Three, so I beeline for that, grabbing my cases that are still sitting on the floor where I left them.
“Thanks for the help, dude,” I mumble to myself. Also, the short walk from the artist lounge wasn’t nearly enough time to reduce my boil to a simmer. I do my best to force the heat below the surface and plaster a fake smile on my face as I plow through the door with my cases.
Laughter dies abruptly and five sets of eyes settle on me as I break into the room like an elephant on steroids. The door smacks against my guitar case, and the other facial expressions dim at varying degrees, ranging from lopsided smiles to full-on scowls. The worst coming from… wait.
No.
No fucking way.
23G?
Why is that unbearable girl from the apartment below me in my studio space? I blink at her in shock, then disgust, then filtered rage. I did not need this right now, and my only consolation is that she seems just as unhappy to see me.
“Julian? Good to see you again.” Viv, who wore the least hostile expression of the group, is also the first to move forward. She takes one of my cases, and I don’t miss how my annoying neighbor glowers at Viv’s assistance. Why the hell is she even here? She wasn’t at our initial meeting when I sat down with Sam and Viv to discuss our potential future as a band. I tear my gaze away and force my attention back to my bandmate.
“Hey, Viv. Great to see you. Sorry I’m late. Technical difficulties.”
“No problem. Just glad you’re here. We were still getting acquainted anyway.”
I force a quick smile and approach the group with a wave. Max is at his kit. Travis, our rhythm guitarist, nods from his spot nearby. He’s rocking one of the new multi-effect floor processors instead of a traditional pedal board. Interesting. Beck, our new bass player is already plugged in and ready to go. Yep, they’re just missing one person: Me. The freaking bandleader himself. Also, none of this explains the bizarre presence of 23G hovering behind us with a laptop instead of an instrument. Maybe she decided reporting me for noise violations at our apartment building isn’t enough. She has to stalk my place of work and report me here too?
“Oh, and this is my assistant, Hadley,” Viv says, waving toward Miss Holier-Than-Thou.
Hadley. So 23G has a name.
“Hey, everyone,” I say generically, moving toward my spot to avoid a direct snub of the sound police in front of her boss. This is gonna be super fun. I smirk at the look of utter horror on her face at this development. Hilarious. I feel you, sweetheart, believe me.
I yank off my hoodie and toss it on the floor near my empty cases. Damn, it’s hot in here. Wasn’t expecting that, but then maybe the heat searing through me isn’t a thermostat issue. After shedding a layer, I grab my guitar from the case and plug in.
An awkward silence follows as I set up my pedal board and situate my in-ear monitors and monitor pack. They couldn’t at least talk amongst themselves? Nope, everyone watches silently to the soundtrack of clicks and buzzing, as if I’m a forcefield of negative energy. Maybe they’re not wrong. Blackholes have strong gravitational pulls.
After several minutes of setup, I take my place in front of the mic while tuning my guitar. “Okay, so I sent you all those work-tapes with some of my song ideas. I thought maybe we could start there. Let’s just play for a while and see what happens naturally, then we can work on tweaking our sound and figure out where we want to go. Sound good?”
I scan the group before finally resting my eyes on Viv. She’s the one I’m worried about. I know Max gets me. I’ve never played with Travis and Beck but they come from solid rock pedigree. Viv is the wildcard. I still don’t get how a fucking pop princess is going to handle the furious music in my head, but I guess we’re about to find out.
If only I could shake the constant sting of two angry eyes boring into my back…
CHAPTER 2
HADLEY
I hated Julian Campbell before I knew he was Julian Campbell. My job is to support my boss and best friend, Genevieve… er… Viv Hastings. So when Viv decided to pursue the opportunity to front this rock experiment, my job was to support her decision over my personal objections. And boy did I object.
Main problem? Julian Campbell, former guitarist for Eastern Crush.
Yes, Eastern Crush, the band that’s now most famous for betraying its first frontman, stealing his songs, and publicly feuding with him and his new band Burn Card. Well, a year and a half later Burn Card is selling out stadiums, while Eastern Crush has disintegrated into a case study for intellectual property litigation textbooks. Their frontman is in prison, and two of the other members have dropped off the grid since the media frenzy finally died down. And now we get to make our beds with the remnants of that debacle?
No, I was not in favor.
But Viv trusts Sam, her manager, who insisted this was a golden opportunity for her to reinvent herself exactly like she wanted to do, so here we are. Face-to-face with a fresh horizon that’s dimming by the second. Especially since it turns out nightmare bandmate Julian Campbell is also my nightmare neighbor from 33G. How that’s possible, I have no idea, but it doesn’t surprise me one bit that the rude guy from upstairs was also manufactured by a band best known for being assholes.
Most days I love Viv and my job, but today… yeah, it’s going to be a challenge holding onto my typical poise through this nightmare scenario. Even the way he tugs off his hoodie annoys me. Like he purposely hoped it’d catch the edge of his shirt and force it up his torso. So what if the female hormones in me might have enjoyed the peek for a split second. That spike of heat was just basic biology. Only assholes think having a defined six-pack is a character trait worth flaunting.
News flash: working out isn’t a quality point unless you’re a personal trainer or professional athlete.
I grew up in this world and have never been impressed by pretty bodies, pretty hair, and pretty eyes. 33G tried flashing those potent dark brown irises at me the first time I politely asked him to keep it down. Didn’t work then. Sure as heck isn’t going to work now that I know they belong to Julian Campbell. Of course he was late today. It was our first meeting and he couldn’t be bothered to show up on time. The rules clearly don’t apply to him in any facet of his life.