Once I reach the stage, I stand opposite the bassist as if I’m already part of the band. The crowd eat it up, assuming it’s a stunt choreographed by Rise Up to introduce their newest member.
While strumming my guitar, I seek the band members’ response to my boldness. The drummer’s eyes are narrowed into thin slits; the bassist is grinning while shaking his head, and Noah continues performing with his gaze fixed on the crowd. It isn’t the response I was hoping for, but it’s better than leaving with a black eye. . . . . .
Although annoyed at my stunt, Noah agreed to let me audition for the band the following day—against the wishes of both Slater, the drummer and Marcus, the bassist.
They hammered me with every song imaginable, and after a grueling four hours, they reluctantly accepted me into their group. That night was over a year ago, but I still feel like an intruder.
This time around, my drama could cause a massive rift in the band, so I start backpedaling. “I wasn’t thinking,”
“No, you weren’t. I don’t know if I can fix this, Nick. You fucked up; you might need to look for another band.”
Even though Noah can’t see me, I shake my head. Rise Up will be mega successful one day, and I want to be a part of that.
“I’ll keep it in my pants. I promise.”
Noah breathes harshly down the line. “It might be too late for that now.”
* * *
Slater’s nostrils flare when I enter Marcus’s garage on Noah’s heels. Noah called an emergency band meeting, hoping to settle the tension I caused three weeks ago. I knew how badly I fucked up when Noah suggested I look for another band. Without shame, I begged him to let me stay. I even went as far as vowing never to sleep with another bandmate’s significant other ever again.
He didn’t believe me, but it kept our negotiations open.
The deeper I descend into the garage, the tighter my brows furrow. Noah’s friend Jacob is standing in the middle of the space Rise Up practices in daily. I’ve seen him at gigs, but he’s never shown up during rehearsals before.
Noticing my confused gaze, Noah explains, “I asked him to come in case I needed to pull you two apart.”
“He won’t fucking stop me,” Slater snarls, his eyes narrowing.
If you could die from a death stare, I'd be dead right now.
Jacob chuckles at Slater’s snarl before throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Who said I’m here to stop you? I’m here to watch the beat down.”
A lump lodges in my throat.I really need to start thinking with the head on my shoulders instead of the one between my legs.
Noah glares at Jacob and Slater, unimpressed. Slater doesn’t buckle under his furious stare, but Jacob mumbles a quick apology. Happy his soldiers are falling into line, he continues pulling rank. “Last month, we signed to play at Mavericks every Tuesday night. This is the stepping stone we've been waiting for. From here, we’ll continue to grow. Do you really want to give up the opportunity to make it big with our band for shit like this?”
I shake my head. “You know my thoughts on this, Noah; I want to stay in the group.” I'll do everything in my power to remain a part of Rise Up because I know it's only a matter of time before we hit it big.
Slater stands from the speaker box he’s sitting on to bridge the gap between Noah and me, his steps cocky. “You know the deal I’ve agreed to.”
Noah’s uneasy gaze bounces between Slater and me for several seconds before settling on Slater. “One hit.” He holds his index finger in the air.
Nodding, Slater rubs his hands together like his greatest wish was just granted. When he steps even closer to me, my suspicious gaze floats between four sets of eyes staring at me. Marcus’s reveal his concern; Jacob’s are shining with excitement; Noah’s are as dark as normal, and Slater’s look like a kid entering a candy store.
When Slater gets within touching distance of me, my eyes rocket to Jacob, wordlessly begging him to grab Slater before he does something stupid. He doesn’t budge an inch—not one.
Unease clutches my throat when Slater comes to a stop in front of me. Then all I see is blackness.
* * *
My head is pounding against my temples; my stomach is swirling, and something is running out of my nose. When a shiver darts down my spine, my brows furrow.
Why am I lying on a cold, dirty concrete floor?
While dragging my hand under my nose, I attempt to sit up. My stomach launches into my throat from my sudden movements, then climbs another two inches when I glance down at my hand. It’s covered in bright red blood.
“What happened?” My tone relays my confusion. I’m as baffled as fuck.
