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“What look’s that?”
Knowing my own limits, I dropped my hand from his face and took a step away. “Ask me after we’re done here and I’ll show you.” I walked back toward the door and snatched up the tequila. “Final chance.”
Halo walked my way but shook his head, and I was relieved to see the fear from a second ago had been replaced with a new sense of determination. “You really think my music kicks ass?”
I grabbed on to the door to open it for him and nodded. “I do.”
The smile that lit Halo’s face made something in my stomach tighten.
“Then what do I care what the rest of the world thinks?” he said. “That’s good enough for me.”
As we walked back to the green room, it was to see the rest of the guys coming out the door. When they spotted us, they all started shooting the shit with Halo, pumping him up for what was to come, and I hung back a little, hearing Halo’s words over and over in my head.
I had to admit, it felt really fucking good to know that I was the reason Halo was now standing tall and looking like he had won some goddamn prize, and as one of the assistants began to mic us up, I made sure to keep my eyes off him. Killian was standing close enough that he’d see any kind of thought or feeling that was on my face, and the last thing Halo needed was Killian calling me out on my wayward dick.
“Okay,” Killian said, as he clapped Halo on the arm. “Ready for this?”
Halo scoffed. “Uh…no.” Then he flashed a charming smile. “But I’m gonna rock it.”
“Of course you are, man.” Jagger peeked out of one of the curtains and then looked back at us. “And if you get nervous there’s a serious hottie, front row, on the right. Miniskirt, legs for days, blond hair.”
Never in my life had I wanted to be called on stage for an interview more. And when Halo grinned at Jagger and said, “Nah. You can keep the blondes, they aren’t my type,” I almost asked one of the assistants if she could bring that bottle of tequila back.
“How about he looks at Carly,” Killian said, as he shoved Jagger in the shoulder. “Since she’s the one doing the interview?”
Before anyone could chime in with anything else ridiculous, a woman with tight red curls stuck her head behind the curtain.
“You guys are on in five, four, three,” then she mouthed, Two, one, and before Jagger was shoved out from behind the curtain, he whispered to Halo, “What about redheads?”
Then Carly Wilde’s voice came over the speakers. “Please welcome to the stage, everyone, Fallen Angel.”
Thirty-Nine
Halo
“CHAMPAGNE, SIR?” THE flight attendant asked as I buckled myself in on MGA’s private jet the next morning. Private jet. Will I ever get used to this? Answer: I certainly hoped not.
As Viper made his way down the aisle, he swiped a champagne glass from the attendant’s tray. “Might as well keep the party goin’,” he said, winking my way before downing half the contents. For a heart-stopping second, I thought he’d choose the seat beside me, but he sauntered past, claiming the cream leather couch on the opposite side.
I blew out a breath and smiled at the flight attendant whose nametag read Shirley. “Thanks, Shirley, I’d love one.”
Last night’s performance on Carly Wilde’s show had gone phenomenally well—nothing like our Savannah show—and we’d spent all night celebrating at a dive bar. My head pounded, but I drank the champagne gratefully. Hair of the dog and all that.
“‘With a new name, a new sound, and a new lead singer, the band formerly known as TBD made its first live appearance last night on Late Night with Carly Wilde, and it was nothing short of spectacular.’” Killian grinned as he read to us off his phone. “‘Just last week, the world saw its first glimpse of new frontman, Halo, when the Warden posted a secretly recorded video of the singer performing what will surely be a hit if the reactions on social media are any indication. With the face of an angel and the voice to match, Halo stunned the late-night crowd, breathing new life into the powerhouse that was TBD, and all but ensuring the rockers of Fallen Angel a future spot among the greats. We’re anxiously awaiting the debut album, release date still to be announced…’”
Killian had been reading off articles the entire drive to the airport, and while I was ecstatic at the response, I couldn’t stop focusing on the work we had ahead of ourselves.
“We just have to write and record an entire album in three months and make it kickass. Worthy of being one of ‘the future greats.’ No big deal,” I said.
“You,” Viper said, pointing my way. “Drink. Stop fuckin’ stressing.”
