Reed says, “When it rains it pours, Laila. I’ve got some exciting news for you, too.” He pauses for effect, his dark eyebrow raised. “The opener for Fugitive Summer’s domestic leg had to bow out, unexpectedly, for personal reasons. So, I’ve decided to push up the release of your album and send you in their place.”
I gasp. “Are you serious?”
“Very serious,” Reed says, just as none other than the drummer of Fugitive Summer approaches the group.
“Hey, Reed,” he says. “Oh, Laila Fitzgerald!”
And before he says another word, I throw myself into his muscled arms and thank him, profusely, for the amazing opportunity. “I’m so excited!” I shriek. “I love Fugitive Summer!”
“Wow,” the drummer says, laughing. “Good to meet you, too.”
Reed says, “I just told Laila the exciting news that she’s joining your tour. You know, because Alexa Play Music had to bow out?”
“Aaah,” the drummer says, returning my hug. “That’s awesome. I’m so glad you told her the news, Reed. That’s actually what I was coming over to do.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
I pull away from the drummer, laughing. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“Not at all.” He smiles adorably and puts out his hand. “I’m Kendrick Cook, by the way.”
I shake his hand maniacally. “I know! I’m so glad to meet you. Thank you so much for coming over here to welcome me to the tour! That was incredibly sweet of you, Kendrick!”
Kendrick looks at Reed and smiles. “Of course, Laila. We’re all super excited to have you aboard.”
“You are? Oh my gosh! What an honor! Thank you!” My heart racing, I glance excitedly across the room toward Savage, all prior “I don’t give a shit” pretense impossible now. And once again, I’m ecstatic to find him already staring at me. Which makes perfect sense now. Obviously, the band has been sitting on this thrilling news, waiting to see my reaction when Reed finally let the cat out of the bag.
Practically bursting with excitement, I smile broadly at Savage, letting him know, yes, Reed and Kendrick have delivered the amazing, exciting, shocking, thrilling news to me—although, I’m sure Savage has already surmised that fact, given the way I hugged his drummer just now. But to my dismay and acute humiliation, Savage doesn’t return my goofy, no-holds-barred smile. Instead, on the contrary, he frowns in the face of my exuberance and immediately looks away like I’ve greatly offended him. Like he’s pissed about me joining the tour.
And suddenly, I know the heated staring contest we had a few moments ago wasn’t proof of our mutual attraction, like I thought. It was evidence of Savage’s disdain for me. His objection to me joining his band on tour. Clearly, Mr. Rockstar doesn’t think I’m worthy of the opportunity, but Reed is calling the shots, against his will. I’ve heard rumors that sometimes happens in the world of River Records—Reed calling the shots against an artist’s will. And now I know the rumors are true.
Shit.
I’m going to be stuck on tour with a guy who’s not happy I’m there. A guy who’s not only gorgeous and brooding and talented and hot . . . but also a flaming fucking dick.
Three
Savage
When Kendrick returns to our group, he’s got none other than The Prick in tow. We greet our lord and master, half-heartedly, before Reed says, “I’ve got some bad news, guys. Cooper went into rehab this morning, so Alexa Play Music won’t be able to finish the tour.”
Ruby looks distraught, which isn’t a surprise. During the international leg of our tour, Ruby became good friends with the talented but tortured lead singer of the opening band. Reed assures everyone Cooper is safe and sound, but definitely out of commission for the foreseeable future, as he confronts his demons, head-on.
“The good news,” Reed says, “is that I’ve already found a new opener who’s thrilled to join the tour. Laila Fitzgerald. The timing is perfect. I can push up release of her sophomore album, pretty easily, and make it a win-win.”
Everyone but me reacts favorably. They say Laila is incredibly talented and that her debut album was fantastic. They mention the fact that Zeke, our producer, also produced Laila’s debut, which is kind of cool. And through it all, I feel like my cells are physically vibrating.
Reed says, “Laila wanted to come over here to meet everyone and thank you for the opportunity.” He rolls his eyes. “But I told her we had a few things to discuss and you’d find her later to say hello.”
“I was so relieved you said that,” Kendrick chimes in. “I didn’t want her coming over here and figuring out the band had no idea.”
Everyone laughs at the notion, but I clench my jaw, feeling annoyed. It irks me to no end that Reed has full discretion to slot our tours, without even asking our opinion, thanks to our shitty contract. Yes, Reed’s technically got full control in these matters, but, still, as a matter of professional courtesy, it’s my opinion he should have discussed this with our band before telling Laila. Especially since, if you ask me, Laila’s not even a good fit, musically, with our band and brand. Is Laila talented? Absolutely. But that doesn’t mean she should be opening for Fugitive Summer. Reed should put her with Aloha. Or maybe 2Real.
And yet, everyone around me continues reacting enthusiastically, like this is the best idea, ever. My aggravation ratcheting up with each passing second, I look across the room. And this time, when my eyes meet Laila’s, she’s got no beaming smile for me. No lustful stare. This time, the only thing on Laila’s face is a death glare. And I must admit, it’s a good look on her.
“She’s not a good fit,” I declare, turning away from Laila’s blue daggers. And everyone stops talking and looks at me like I’ve yelled the earth is flat. “You should put her with 2Real,” I suggest. “He’s going out soon, isn’t he?”
Reed’s face contorts into an expression of pure disdain, the likes of which I’ve seen many times from him. “Thanks so much for your opinion, Savage,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “The thing is . . .” He leans forward. “I don’t actually give a flying shit what you think about this decision. I wasn’t asking for permission to put Laila on the tour. I was merely informing you, as a courtesy, that I’ve already done it, so you won’t wonder what the hell she’s doing there when she shows up at her first soundcheck.” With that, he flashes me a nonverbal “fuck you” before smiling at Kendrick. “I hear it’s your birthday, KC?”
“Yep. The big two-five.”
“Wow. A quarter century. You can rent a car now.” He chuckles. “Feel free to take home any bottle you want from any of the bars. There’s some pretty expensive Scotch behind that one . . .” He points across the room, to a bar located near a set of French doors, and names the brand. “Tell the bartender I said you can have the whole bottle.”
“Thanks, Reed. I’ll take you up on that.”
“Please do.” He smiles at Ruby, his favorite in our band, by far, and wishes her a good time. And then, with a quick nod to Titus and Kai, he heads off without even a cursory glance at me.