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She felt like she was in an episode of American Idol. Being judged, and probably falling short.
“Yes,” she said, looking over at Presley.
“I guess we could work with that.”
Pres tipped his head to the side. “Work with it?” he asked. “What does that mean?”
“I mean we can build a story around it. I don’t suppose you’re married, are you?”
From the corner of her eye she could see Pres frown. “No.”
She reached out to put her hand on his thigh, her palm warm against his skin. She knew he was only here under duress.
Or rather, because he loved his brother and was pretty fond of her. Hell, he was fond of Alex too, but he would never admit it.
“He’s a single father,” she said.
Bryan blinked. “You have a kid?”
“A daughter,” Presley corrected him. “Yes.”
“Oh. Okay.” Bryan ran the pad of his thumb along his jaw. “Well I guess that’s all the questions I have for you. Thanks for coming in. We have a couple more bands to meet with and then we’ll be in touch.”
“Wait, we’re not the only ones?” Alex asked, his voice full of disappointment. “I thought you liked our videos.”
Bryan smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “My assistant said they were great. Thanks again.” He stood, making it clear it was time for them to leave. “And have a great day.”
Bryan left the room as they started packing away their instruments, his assistant standing awkwardly by the door as they started carrying the boxes onto the carts the label had provided to help them shift their gear.
“You really are good,” the assistant told them. “Out of all of them, you’re my favorite.”
They were on the elevator before any of them spoke.
“Well at least we got a free trip to New York out of it.” Marley shrugged. “It could be worse.”
“It’s not over. He liked what we did,” Alex said. “And his assistant loves us. That has to count for something, right?”
Cassie looked at Presley, who’d said nothing. He looked a little annoyed, but that was probably left over from him being asked if he was married. She’d explain the story of the book to him in the car. Then he’d probably understand.
“You should probably have lied about Delilah,” Alex said.
“Did you seriously just say that?” Presley frowned. “I’m not going to lie about having a kid.”
“He didn’t ask you if you had a kid. You volunteered it,” Alex continued. “I’m just saying you shouldn’t have.”
Pres opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, as though thinking better of it. And when the elevator reached the first floor, he carried his guitar out of there, as she and the others followed behind with the carts.
And to top it all off? It was raining. She groaned as she looked outside. Pres turned to catch her eye.
“It’s gonna be fine,” he told her. “It’ll stop by tomorrow when we have to leave. And anyway, I’m driving.”
She nodded. “I know.” It was stupid. If he could work himself to the bone to attend an audition for something he never wanted and never intended to do, she could grin and bare it if it rained when they drove home tomorrow.
For five hours.
She exhaled slowly. She trusted him, she really did.
If anybody could get her home safely, Presley Hartson could. He took care of everybody. He’d certainly taken care of her last night, and tonight looked like more of the same.
