Keaton presses his palm to the middle of my back, his sticks held between us, giving me support. Keaton is my calm and steady. A rock in a raging storm. Someone I can count on. He’s consistently been here whenever I’ve needed him, watching my back. He’s my silent bodyguard.
And damn, do I think he’s stolen my heart along the way.
“I wanted to talk to you again about doing a duet with Carmen. I’m taking her to the Connecticut recording studio at my compound during the upcoming break to work on producing her album.” His arm extends, and Carmen appears as if out ofnowhere, nestling into his side as he pulls her close with his embrace. Of course she was near by. He reaches his free hand toward me and cups my cheek. “Having my two girls singing together would be the sweetest sound. It’ll be a blast.”
I resist the urge to flinch away as my skin burns with his contact, it takes everything in me to force myself to hold still. All I want to do is delete the thoughts of what he believes would happen with the two of us there. My skin crawls at his touch, but I focus on Keaton’s steady presence behind me. The pressure of his palm and drumsticks against my back ground me, reminding me that I’m not alone in this. Not anymore.
My throat tightens, but I manage to plaster a polite smile on my face even if my nostrils flare with the steadying breath I slowly blow out. The tension in the room grows thick as I try to figure out the best way possible to say fuck no. But that would cause a retaliation war that’s out of my depth. I can’t let it crack me. He doesn’t get that satisfaction, not ever again.
“I appreciate the offer,” I say, my voice calm and steady, the complete opposite of what’s going on inside. “But I’m going to have to decline. It’s just not the right time with breaking in the new band and Tristan’s still missing.”
I take a careful step back, slipping out of his reach. His fingers linger in the air for a second as a shadow of darkness passes over his eyes, then they drop to his side. Carmen’s gaze flickers between us, confusion shadowing her perfectly poised smile. It’s like she can’t comprehend that I said no.
Dickless lets out a disappointed sigh. “Do you really want to let this chance get away? Carmen is fixing to blow up, she’ll be the biggest pop star of this century, and to be honest, you need this more than her. Nevertheless, I’m willing to make it happen. Carmen and you—together—would be magic.”
I force another tight smile, my teeth clenched behind it. He’s always had a way of spinning things to make me doubt myself, tomake me question my decisions. Not to mention subtly insulting me like I’m dumb. But not this time. Not anymore.
“I’m sure Carmen will do great on her own,” I say, trying to inject some warmth into the words, even though I don’t mean it. “It’s… not my kind of project.”
His eyes narrow slightly, and I brace myself for whatever manipulation or guilt trip is about to follow. But before he can speak, Keaton’s hand subtly shifts on my back, a silent message that I’m not doing this alone.
“Raina’s got her own vision,” Nash says from behind us, his voice firm but calm. “She’s working on some new stuff. It’s fresh and exciting. I think you’ll like it.” I appreciate his faith in the lyrics he read from my notebook, but I haven’t decided to do anything with them yet. My stomach flips again at the thought… I guess the decision to use them has been taken out of my hands. Although, it’s probably a good idea to get started on the final album I owe the label.
Nash’s words hang in the air, and for a split second, my uncle’s facade cracks. The charming smile falters, his eyes darkening as they flick from me to each of the guys. But just as quickly, the mask is back, and he’s chuckling softly, his arm tightening around Carmen, drawing my gaze to where his fingers flex on her hip. The positioning of his hand isn’t appropriate for a fifteen-year-old.
“Well, I suppose you’ve got your reasons,” he says, though the edge in his voice betrays him. He’s pissed as fuck that I’m not pliantly going along with whatever he wants. The last time he got this look, he handed me over to Napalm Delights. “Think it over again, talk to your band. But don’t wait too long, darling. Opportunities don’t always come knocking twice.”
“You promised me,” Carmen whines under her breath. She pouts her bottom lip and balls her fists. She looks like she’s asplit second from slamming her foot to the ground in a toddler meltdown.
“Shut the fuck up,” Dickless hisses at her, clearly embarrassed that he has to put up with her. He clears his throat and runs a hand over his crisp white button up. When he lifts his head, it’s like he’s a different person. Quite the Mr. Jekyll and Hyde situation. “What about you, Darius? We could use someone of your talents in the recording session.”
All the air gets sucked out of my lungs. This is the moment. The moment where Darius chooses the label over the band. Shows that he can’t be trusted.
“I appreciate the offer, but I think it’s best that I spend the break focusing on team bonding. Really work on melding our sound and acting cohesively.” Darius shines his smile on me. “Plus, I only came to work with Raina, so I’m exactly where I want to be.”
Instinct has me wanting to trust him, to believe his intentions are pure and exactly how he stated them. Years of being manipulated by Dickless says not to trust anything he’s involved in. It’s an uneasy place to be, and constantly has me on edge.
“If that’s what you want,” Dickless says, his feigned warmth disappearing. He stares at Darius’ shirt and turns with a scoff, not even saying goodbye. Not that I mind. With my own perusal of the shirt, I find he’s wearing yet another band tee for a group unaffiliated with Lexington Productions. No wonder the owner of the label walked off the way he did.
I turn, hiding my smirk, but Darius catches my eye. He runs his hand down his shirt and winks at me. I’m not sure, but I can’t help believing he knows exactly how much it pisses Dickless off and is doing it on purpose.
“Okay, I got everything set. Good sound check,” the sound engineer says. I found out his name is Gordon—he really doesn’t look like a Gordon to me, but then again I’m not sure what name would fit him better.
“Thanks, Gordon.” I wave as we walk off the stage, finding Izzy and Gill waiting for us. “Hey, ladies. How’s it going?”
Izzy gives me a smile, but it seems a little tight at the corners. “Can we talk?”
Uh, oh.“Yeah, let’s find an empty room.” I turn to the band behind me. “I’ll catch up with you guys when I’m done.”
“Actually,” Izzy cuts in. “I need to speak to all of you.”
I nod and motion for her to go ahead, assuming she has already scoped out a private area. She guides us to a nearby spot, and we all file into the room as Blake shuts the door behind him.
“What’s going on, Izzy? You seem a little tense.”
She grips the side of her tablet and turns to face us as we scrunch together to fit in the tiny space. “As you know, one of the things we’ve been working on is band image and steering the media away from any negative publicity.”
“Oh, no. Did some new rumor pop up?” My stomach clenches, nerves working in overtime at what it could be.
