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I step closer, putting a finger in his face. “Oh, don’t you dare say you set this up for me. You did this for yourself. You knew I wanted to record some stuff and decided to leech onto it and shape it into something that could work for yourself.”
“Whatever. You’re still getting the studio to record in. All I’m saying is—”
“I know what you’re saying,” I snap, cutting him off. Shaking my head, I take a deep breath. “Just leave, Bret.”
“What about Skum Bucket’s deal?”
“Fine.” I point at him, feeling the anger boil up. “I’ll make sure you guys get your deal. Set up a meeting with Richards, I don’t care. I don’t even want to record there anymore.”
He narrows his eyes, seeming to decide if he wants to believe me. They jump over to Shawn once more, before landing back on me. “I’ll text you when we have something set up.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
He rolls his eyes, then turns and leaves. Without looking at Shawn, I head back to the VIP area, where Austin meets us at the same time. I try to smile through the frustration, but he immediately sees the expression.
“You okay?”
We take a seat at the small booth, and he slips his arm over my shoulder, waiting for me to respond. I take another deep breath and feel the frustration fade away. Like all the other moments, I don’t remember the last time someone checked on me and what I want; what I feel.
It warms me, and I lean into him, laying my head on his shoulder. “Yeah. I’m good.”
