Ash held his arms out at the sides. “We make magic, baby. Nothing can touch us. Nothing ever will.”
Lyrik scoffed with the tug of a smile, and he crossed his tattooed arms over his chest. “If you can’t be loyal to your crew, who the hell are you going to be loyal to?”
My head shook, agitation eating me alive. “Then why am I sitting here?”
“Wearing jeans and a tee in the middle of the damn fanciest party I’ve ever been to, mind you? How is this fair?” Ash tugged at the bowtie of his tux, tossing the razzing out, nothing but a joke. Like he could feel the tension radiating from me and he was doing everything to rid the room of it. “Asshole gets to wear what he wants and you made me put on this shit?”
He gestured at me.
If I possessed the ability, I would have laughed.
Dude had always been a nut.
Anxiously, I drummed my fingers on my thigh, feeling naked without the drumsticks that I took everywhere I went.
“Sorry. Last minute, like you said. Didn’t have time to rent something more appropriate,” I told him.
Not that I would have, anyway. Not exactly my style.
Lyrik pushed out a heavy sigh. “Listen, man. This is coming out wrong. It’s really not a big deal. Zee here has no intention of leaving the band. His son Liam is some kind of soccer prodigy and has the chance to play this summer for this big-ass kids’ league, and he wants to be there for the games, which means there’s a scheduling conflict. You’re the only one we know who is good enough to take his place on the tracks. Simple as that. And you’ll still have the time to meet all your obligations with your own band. Know you don’t have any shows for a handful of weeks, and we were hoping you’d be willing to spend those weeks in the studio with us.”
“That’s it,” Sebastian added from where he was sitting behind the desk, arms tucked behind his head and rocked back in the chair.
Sebastian Stone was Sunder’s original lead singer. He’d relinquished the mic a handful of years back to be closer to his family, and he’d started a recording label of his own, Stone Industries.
Now his baby brother, Austin, had taken the lead, though it seemed Baz hadn’t really taken that far of a step back from the band.
You hardly saw a picture in the tabloids or music mags without all five of them together.
“Honestly not a big deal, but there’s a ton of money in it for you.” Baz cocked a wry grin.
“Probably could have just shot me a text rather than dragging me out to L.A. to ask me.” I eyed them, defenses lowering, but still, this was over-the top.
Zee shook his head. “Nah. Needed to invite you face-to-face. Let you know what it will mean to me, considering you’re the only person who can do it, and I need to be there for my son.”
“Sorry, you could have saved yourself some time because I can’t stay in L.A. Plan on getting the hell out of here tonight.”
Never should have come in the first place.
Had no clue what that compulsion had been.
The fiery blaze that had me tapping out an acceptance.
Like coming here might bring me closer to vindication.
But I had to chill the fuck out. Wait. Bide my time. Do it right.
Baz rocked forward in the chair and tapped his fingers on the desk. “Not going down in L.A. We’ll be recording at my studio near Savannah, Georgia out on Tybee Island. Puts you in a good spot to go back and forth when your band needs you since you’re predominantly in the south.”
“You aren’t going to catch my ass hanging out in L.A. for any length of time, either.” Ash added. “Most of us are raising our families back in Savannah. Only one of us who even has a place here any longer is Lyrik. This fucker is the only reason any of us dragged our asses across the country in the first place.”
Lyrik grunted. “I share custody with my son’s mother,” he clarified, like I needed to know all the intricacies that made up their lives. Like they needed to lay it all out to gain my trust. “Brendon will be spending the entire summer with us in Savannah, so it works out.”
I hesitated. Only good thing I’d ever learned from my pile-of-shit mother was if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was.
And why the hell did I want this, anyway?
But it was there . . . the thirst to play.
The thing I’d kept for myself.
My one love when the rest of it had been ripped from me.
I bounced my knee. “How long do you plan on being in the studio?”
Sebastian rubbed his hand over his face, contemplating. “Six weeks . . . two months tops.”
“And we all have places there . . . you’re welcome to stay with any one of us.” Austin Stone seemed to be the most reserved of the group. Something deeply thoughtful about him. “Or we can put you up in your own apartment if you’re more comfortable with that. I mean, basically whatever it takes for you to agree.” There was the tug of a smile from him at that.
Lyrik stretched his long legs out in front of him and rocked farther back against the desk. “My wife and I actually have a guest house on our property. At the risk of soundin’ cocky, it’s pretty damn sick. Yours if you want it.”
“You? Cocky? Never.” Ash smacked him on the back. Probably a little harder than necessary.
“Fuck off, dude, you want me to take you out?” Lyrik threw an aimless punch at him. Ash jumped back and returned the favor, laughing hard. “Try it, fucker.”
Two were acting like they were thirteen and hanging at a graffitied skate park rather than in a multi-million-dollar mansion.
“So that’s it? Play some music with you, and then I go on my merry way? No questions? No attachments?”
“That’s it,” Baz said, elbows on the desk, angling my direction. “It’s great exposure. Know Carolina George has been in talks with Mylton Records about a possible deal. This can only help you.”
Disbelief pulled at my brow as a chuckle ripped free. “Last time I checked, you and the CEO of Mylton records weren’t exactly friends.”
Their band had almost fallen apart because of the pressure from their old label, which was the reason Sebastian had started his own.
Didn’t necessarily like the head of Mylton Records myself. Karl Fitzgerald was a fucking scumbag. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t do great things for our band.
“How much?” I asked.
“Thirty K a week . . . plus royalties.” Sebastian lifted his chin.
Like he was daring me to pass it up.
Holy shit.
That was a lot of change, and I couldn’t help but think that might finally get me where I needed to be.
Enough cash to make it happen.
To pay and swindle and bribe myself in through the backdoor.
That prick unaware before it was too late.
“I’ve got one requirement.”
“What’s that?”
“Need you to use my stage name. Don’t want anyone tying me back to the old days.”
Didn’t that sound pretentious as fuck?
They didn’t need to know the actual reason.
He shrugged. “No biggie. Tons of people do. Par for the course in this game.”
“My band needs me? I go,” I added.
If I was going to do this, they needed to know Carolina George had to be my first priority.