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The door opens and Mal steps inside the room. He nods keep going.
I'm not his monkey, but, dammit, even at twenty-four, I still get giddy over my big brother's approval.
I finish the song.
"I'm going to have to watch out or you'll become Drew's full-time replacement." Mal hooks his mic up to his amp. "Mind if I join?"
"You gonna sing with moans every other word like Miles does?"
I'm not sure which is more disturbing—Mal moaning every other word the way Miles Webb, the Sinful Serenade singer does, or Mal's usual breathy style. Either way, he sounds like he's in the middle of a vigorous fuck.
Mal shrugs, playing coy.
I go on to the next song on the setlist. It's tough, with a killer guitar solo. Mal does his usual breathy thing. As much as I hate to think of the implications of his overly sensual voice, it sounds fucking good with the music.
I get lost in the feel of the song. Then we're playing another. Then we're finishing the entire setlist.
We play for an hour before we break.
Mal nods his approval. "Vi agreed to take the gig."
"Great. Proud of yourself?"
He shrugs. "Not everything is about you, Ethan. Sometimes you gotta think about other people."
As if Mal
thinks about anything besides staying king of the Strong family and king of Dangerous Noise.
Fuck, we even call him The King behind his back.
Mal's bright eyes get intense. "If you can't handle being around Violet, I get it. Hard to resist a woman that fine."
He's baiting me but he's right.
Not many guys would resist Violet.
My blood goes cold at the thought of her coming screaming some other guy's name.
She isn't mine anymore. I can't do anything about her moving on unless I'm ready to make her mine again.
I swallow hard.
Mal shakes his head. I can hear his thoughts. You're hopeless, little bro.
"You're such a fucking know-it-all." I flip him off as playfully as I can.
"No. I just happen to know everything." He laughs and steps out the door.
My bed still smells like Violet. It's driving me out of my mind.
This—thinking about her naked, under me, screaming my name—is not productive. Opening for Sinful Serenade is the opportunity of a lifetime. Already, our album sales are skyrocketing. Already, we're getting offers for all sorts of commercial deals.
The only thing I've ever wanted, aside from Violet, is to make music that matters to people. Can't let my feelings for Violet fuck with that.
I should text her a manifesto about how the two of us are never getting back together.
My fingers refuse to cooperate. My fingers want her soft skin. They want her cunt pulsing around them as she comes.
