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“Over here, Cash!”
Cash scowls before clearing his throat and smiling. This smile isn’t real, though. It’s the smile he uses with the press and fans. Not with Indigo or the band.
“Sorry, guys. We’re behind schedule,” Cash says.
“Thanks to the big guy having phone sex,” Gibson mutters and I elbow him hard enough he crashes into the wall.
Jett laughs as he helps Gibson steady himself while Dylan rolls his eyes.
“You can join us for the press conference down the hall,” Cash says to the paps knowing damn well none of them were invited to the press conference.
Our security forms a line in front of us and leads us down the hallway to the room where the press is waiting. Aurora steps out of the room and rakes her gaze over us. She scowls at Jett. He waits until her attention is elsewhere before flipping her off.
Those two need to get over their shit already. Aurora is the best personal assistant this band could ask for. If she ends up quitting because of him, I’m going to pop his head like a big, fat zit. And I’m going to enjoy it.
“You ready?” Aurora asks Cash.
“Ready to get this the hell done with and get home.”
I feel the same. I never enjoyed this press shit before, but since I’ve found Leia and Isla, I really hate it. I’d rather spend my time with my girls.
If I have to be away from them, then I want to be playing music. Not talking to the press who are going to write bullshit they make up about us anyway.
Aurora rolls her eyes. “Let’s get this over with then.” She opens the door and motions for us to enter in front of her.
We file inside and sit at a long table. Our manager, Mike, stands at one end of the table in front of a microphone. We don’t see much of him since Aurora handles most of our day to day shit but he’d never miss an opportunity to be in front of the press.
Mike’s a good manager, but he’s also an attention whore. Too bad for him, he has no musical talent whatsoever. His talent is discovering talent.
“Good morning,” he greets the press.
I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. This is a waste of my time. No one ever asks me questions. Almost all of the questions are for Cash.
“Cash!” one of the reporters shouts. Here we go.
“Are you still off the market?”
Cash dazzles her with a smile. “I will never be on the market again.”
“You’re breaking fans’ hearts.”
He shrugs. “Can’t help it. I’m in love.”
“What about you, Dylan?” another reporter shouts.
“Sorry, darling, I’m off the market, too.”
“Is there anyone in the band who’s still single?”
Gibson throws his hand in the air. “I’m single.” He waggles his eyebrows. “And not interested in settling down.”
Jett leans forward to reach the mic. He stares at Aurora as he speaks. “I’m single, too.”
Her eyes narrow to slits before she lifts her hand and flips him off. He chuckles in response.
“What about you, Fender?” a different reporter asks.
“What about me?”
