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"You're married?"
"It's all over TMZ."
"I don't read gossip."
"You should. Those sites say a lot of shit about you."
He stares into my eyes. I can see why Mal has no trouble picking up women, but I don't need this kind of intimacy. Not with him.
I motion to his guitar. "Let's get to it."
"Hold on." He turns to his phone and taps out a few messages. "You trust me?"
"You know I don't."
His phone buzzes. "Too bad." It buzzes again. "You've already been outvoted." He shows me his screen.
Mal: Joel has a wife. Who votes we have a show ASAP?
Ethan: I'm in.
Kit: Me too.
"You're an asshole," I say.
"You don't want her to see you play?"
He's still an asshole, but it's a good point. If I want Bella sticking around, I need her seeing me at my best. And behind my drum kit is where I'm at my best.
He taps out another message. "Tomorrow work?"
"Sounds like I'm outvoted. Does it matter if tomorrow works for me?"
He chuckles. "I try to accommodate."
"Tomorrow is fine."
He slides his phone into his pocket. "We go on at ten in Hollywood. Soundcheck is seven."
"How the fuck did you do that so fast?"
"Alessandra owes me a favor."
I raise a brow. Mal cleans up, but I can't imagine him sleeping with our tough as nails booking agent slash tour manager. She's an attractive woman, but she's not Mal's type. He prefers them… inexperienced.
He chuckles. "Not that kind of favor." He shoots me a look. "You're really married?"
"Yeah."
He gives me another prying look. "Congratulations."
"Thanks." I clear my throat. I'm not liking the direction this conversation is going. "Shall we?"
His expression is as incredulous as the day is long. Even so, he connects his guitar to the amp in the corner.
He adjusts his guitar and plays the riff.
There's no cell speaker muffling it. No wind. No city sounds.
