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I put my guitar away and then lowered myself into the chair Killian had pulled around to face the couches. I hadn’t thought about the audition featuring an inquisition, but that was exactly what happened as Jagger, Killian, and Slade lobbed question after question my way.
“How’d you get into music?”
“Why do you think you’d be a good fit for TBD?”
“How old are you?”
I had a moment of panic at that one. I didn’t think I looked young, but I still got carded everywhere I went, so admitting I was only twenty-three—a full decade younger than them—made me wonder if that’d be a deal-breaker.
But no one reacted to that info, and the questions rolled on. With each one that passed, I began to slowly relax, especially when they veered into the ridiculous:
“All right, I’ve got one.” Slade leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his expression dead serious. “It’s the end of the world and only one superhero can save you. Who do you choose?”
Jagger snorted. “Seriously?”
“What the hell does that have to do with whether he’s right for the band?” Viper said.
Slade put his hand up, blocking out the other guys’ protests, and then motioned for me to go ahead.
“I guess I’d say…maybe Thor? His dad’s a literal god, so he might be my best chance.” In truth, I didn’t know much about anyone in the superhero world, so I wasn’t sure if that was a good choice or not. “What about you?”
“Iron Man,” Slade said.
“Well, I’d pick Wonder Woman,” Jagger said. “If it’s the end of the world, I wouldn’t mind goin’ out with a bang.”
Beside him, Killian groaned and gave him a shove. “Ugh. That was fuckin’ painful.”
Jagger’s head fell back as he laughed, and I couldn’t stop my own chuckle. Was I really sitting here, joking around and laughing with TBD? I just knew any minute now I’d wake up in my shithole apartment, eat some ramen, and head out for a gig. I even pinched myself to be sure.
“Favorite song of ours?” Slade asked.
I had a few favorites, but I was going to play my hand wisely. It hadn’t escaped my notice that Viper stayed silent throughout almost all the questions, though his keen eyes didn’t miss a thing. I wished I knew what was going through the guy’s mind, because I had a feeling if I didn’t make it to the next round or whatever came after, it would be because Viper put his foot down.
“‘Dark Light,’” I said, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Viper smirk. “Dark Light” was one of Viper’s, a song he’d written for the Daybreak album. Yeah, I’d chosen it on purpose, hoping to sway him—so sue me.
“Was there something you wanted to add, V?” Killian asked, looking pointedly at his bandmate. Viper’s smirk dropped, and he stared Killian down for a long minute before craning his head in my direction.
My throat went dry as I waited for him to speak. He took his time, running his hand over the dark scruff on his jaw, and as I tried not to fidget under his intense gaze, I finally got a good look at him.
Bad boy. Player. Heartbreaker. All words I’d heard about Viper, and I could understand why. The warm, bronzed skin, jet-black hair that was long enough he could tuck it behind his ears or let it fall down in his face, and strong jaw line tied together the rebellious look of someone who drove the men and women who followed the band crazy. Rumor had it he had a preference for the former, but that was none of my business.
Viper stretched his arm out along the back of the couch, those obsidian eyes of his focused directly on me. “Okay, Halo.” He said my name like a challenge. “If you could change something, anything, about the band, what would it be?”
Shiiit. He’d successfully put me on the spot, asking a question there was no good answer to. It was like in job interviews where they asked what your weaknesses were. The last thing you wanted to do was cop to being less than perfect and fucking up a shot at a job, and that was exactly what was happening here. What would I change about TBD?
Okay, there were two ways to look at this. I could be honest, or I could play it safe. The safe answer was that there was nothing I’d change about them, blah blah blah, but the honest answer…
“You need me as your frontman,” I blurted out before I could change my mind. A couple of eyebrows shot up, but I kept my focus on Viper, waiting to see his reaction. But like he knew what I wanted and wouldn’t give me the satisfaction, his face remained impassive.
Was that good impassive? Bad impassive? Or you’ve-gotta-be-kidding-me impassive? I couldn’t tell. But then Viper said four words that seemed to seal my fate:
