“Am I late?” I opened my arms.
“Sorry, no, just used to dealing with musicians and their own concepts of time.” She rolled her eyes but let me envelop her. “How’s everyone?”
“Everest’s a bit of a grumpy bastard, but that’s to be expected—”
“I didn’t ask about Everest.” She jumped back. Her voice went shrill and slightly panicked.
“Maybe not, but—”
Her hands rested on her hips. “Do you want to see the guys or not?”
I drew my fingers across my mouth like an imaginary zip.
“That’s what I thought. You have ten minutes before the guys kick you out. They don’t like to be disturbed when they’re recording, but they’re finishing up eating, so they’ll be less angry.”
“Can’t you work your feminine wiles on them?”
Her gaze narrowed, and she reached out. A sharp pinch radiated down my side.
“Ow! What was that for?” I rubbed the spot.
“Feminine wiles. I’m sure I know exactly who that comment came from. Do you want to talk to them or not? Because right now it seems like you want to talk your way out of a shot to speak with them.”
“Nope, sorry. Backing off.” We walked toward the door beside the reception desk.
“How’s he going to react when you tell him you came down here?” She turned and walked toward the frosted glass door, swiping a card in front of the lock, which turned green.
My mouth opened and closed, not sure if this was a trap or not. Hadn’t we just said we weren’t going to talk about Everest? But the expectant look on her face told me she did want an actual response. Proceeding cautiously, I answered her question. “He gave me his blessing.”
Her fingers slipped off the handle. She grabbed it again and tugged the door open. “If you say so.”
“He did. I told him how much it could raise the profile of the company and how the tickets would sell out on the first day, and he was on board.”
“That I believe. Money and attention have always been Everest’s first loves.”
“There was another.”
She shot me a glare and marched toward me until my back hit the wall. “You can leave right now.”
“Sorry for the overstep. I won’t do it again.” I held up my hands, palms out.
“You’d better not.” Turning, she grumbled under her breath about how ungrateful I was and how she never should’ve agreed to this.
The hall was filled with a muted silence. Not even the sounds of our footsteps carried in the soft carpet. The silence was eerie and artificial, created from the massive amounts of soundproofing to keep music from bleeding from one studio to another.
“They’re in here. There might be a little breakfast left if they haven’t devoured it all.” She swiped beside the door with a silver number 5 on the outside.
“Breakfast? It’s almost eleven at night.”
She pushed the door open, and laughter and music burst through the doorway. “Does anyone want to tell our guest why you’re all eating breakfast at 10:48 p.m.?”
One hand shot high in the air. The hand of the six-foot-three drummer in a Rolling Stones T-shirt and black jeans with closely cropped black hair strained bouncing up and down like he was sitting in the first row of second period English class.
Maddy pointed to him. “Austin.”
“Because it’s breakfast for us since Maddy dragged us all out of bed an hour ago.”
“You woke up at nine?” And I’d thought my sleeping patterns were fucked.
“I’d have slept until noon tomorrow.” Lockwood, the rhythm guitarist, took a bite of bacon.
“Would you like yet another album where we have to bring someone in to play your part? I can have that girl from Chicago on a plane by tomorrow. At least it would be one less piss-poor attitude I’d have to deal with.”
Lockwood threw down his bacon and glared at Maddy before hopping up and storming out of the room.
“Maddy,” Camden, the lead singer, warned.
“What? I’m the bad guy. It’s what I do. Do you want to act like you didn’t ask me to get him out of bed?”
“No. Guys…” He looked to Elias, who played bass, and Vale on the keyboards and jutted his chin toward the door Lockwood had stormed out of. They headed out after Lockwood with Austin, leaving Maddy, Camden, and me behind in the studio.
“If this is a bad time…”
Camden grabbed a chair and sat on it backward, facing me. “That’s just Lock doing what he does best.” His jaw clenched. “Causing trouble. And we’re having breakfast now because we were up all night writing. When the muse arrives, you can’t stop the flow. So we’re all paying for it today.” He rubbed his eyes. “Maddy told us all about the show.”
She offered me a bottle of orange juice.
“Thanks, Maddy.” I took it, if only to occupy my hands. “I can give you more details. I don’t know how much you’ve been told about it already.” I looked between them.
Camden rested his elbow on the back of the chair and propped his chin up on his fist. “Why do you want us there?”
“Do you want me to blow smoke or would you like the real answer?”
His lips twitched. “Contrary to popular opinions, I’m not a huge fan of smoke. It wreaks havoc on the voice.” He tapped his throat.
“You’re one of the biggest names in the world. Adding you guys to the bill raises the profile of the event and ensures a sellout. My company had this dropped into our lap. No one else wanted to touch it, but there’s a lot of potential to make this a tent pole event in the city. Maybe make sure the city shows up on the map, instead of just being a yawning gap between DC and New York. Plus, it’s my chance to show my friends who I run the company with that I can pull my weight.”
“I can respect wanting to make your mark.” His tone was understanding. “These friends of his include your ex.” He didn’t look to me but Maddy.
Her chin jerked in a sharp nod.
“And you’re cool with us working with him?” He flicked his fingers in my direction.
“Hunter and I go way back. I owe him. The situation with Everest”—the words came out strangled—“has nothing to do with this request.”
Camden scrutinized her and looked back to me with the muscles of his jaw clenched.
Long-shot odds were looking more distant by the second.
The door to the hall opened. A young guy, probably an intern, poked his head in. “Maddy, we sent the car for Alistar, but they’re having trouble finding him. Do you have another contact number?”
She growled and shot up from her leaning position against the mixing console to grab her tablet and phone. “This is what I get for working with fucking musicians.”
The door closed behind her, and Camden and I were left alone.
“I understand if the past between Everest and Maddy is your no. Same with you guys being busy. I get it, and there’s no hard feelings.” If Without Grey said no, the concert would be doable, but the hustle would have to be a hell of a lot harder to get the kind of buzz needed around an event that had been painted as doomed.
“Do you know how many requests we get to perform at one-off events?”