Page 11 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

And so what if she was spoiled? That didn’t make her hard work any less valid. It didn’t invalidate the years, hours, blood, sweat, and tears she’d put into her music, her career. And if at the end of the night she washed the day off with a fancy showerhead and slept tight in a king-sized mattress with seven pillows, it didn’t lessen her accomplishments.

“So fuck that guy,” she grumbled.

After combing the conditioner through her hair and rinsing it, she stepped from the shower refreshed and relaxed.

And yes, she slept like a motherfucking princess in her giant bed, cozied up with her pillows in her nest. That she’d decorated with her own money earned from her own hard work. Not a pack.

Yeah.

Fuck that guy.

With a groan, Lyric threw some popcorn at the screen with one hand while marking out a name on the list with the other.

“No. He creeps me out.”

Andi arched a brow and turned to her. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, squinting at the screen paused in the middle of an audition. To fill the callback list, Lyric was desperately watching the audition again, trying to find someone to fit. But the more videos they skipped through, the more Lyric’s hope dwindled.

“I… I know we have two or three for each position, won’t that be enough?” she asked, and then winced. Out of almost two hundred auditions, only ten or so had both talent and a clean record in the music industry. Or at least didn’t rub her the wrong way.

What if she couldn’t find enough musicians to fill the spots?

All they needed was a drummer, a lead guitarist, a bassist, and a pianist or synth player. So far, a few options for each were available… but as she watched their tapes again, her options for bassist were looking less and less appealing with each viewing.

“We’ll find them, don’t worry,” Andi soothed, and took the popcorn bowl from her.

“And if we don’t?”

“Shh,” Andi teased, and pointed to the screen. She queued up the next video and Lyric smiled. She’d actually enjoyed this one.

“Oh, I liked her. What was her name?” she asked, and flipped through applications. “Never mind, found it! Desi.”

The short-haired brunette waved at the mirrored window and took a seat behind the drums. She was lithe and lean, and the blouse she wore buttoned to her neck with a lace collar made her look soft. But when she lifted those sticks and crashed them back down onto the drums, any hint of softness disappeared. She was fierce and the passion for the music came through in every beat of the snare or kick of the bass drum. The hiss of the cymbals clashed, and with each beat that passed, Lyric liked her more and more.

“Yep, definitely moving on with her,” Lyric said, and placed her application into the round two pile.

But after another three hours, she was still unconvinced about the bassist position. “I mean, they’re all... okay,” Lyric admitted. “But none of them made me sit up and go, ‘ooo.’” She feigned excitement, clasping her hands together and resting them under her chin. “But we might as well go ahead with these three. We can see how we get on when I meet them for the first time.”

“Alright, alright. Be picky, why don’t you.”

Lyric grinned. “I know, right? How dare I be picky about the people I’m going to spend six weeks crammed into a bus with?”

Andi rolled her eyes. “It’s not like you won’t have a nest in the back to hide in if they get on your nerves.”

“I know, I know.”

“I’m just teasing, you know. You’re allowed to be as picky as you want. This is your tour, and it’s your music they’ll be playing. If you say they’re not a good fit, then we find someone else.”

“Have I mentioned how much I adore you lately?” Lyric asked.

“Then give me a raise,” she responded dryly.

Lyric laughed and bumped her elbow into Andi’s side. They both knew she was the best paid agent in the damned city, and she earned it.

Lyric handed Andi the stack of papers she’d acquired, and Andi pulled out her work phone.

“So, it’s decided? We’ll call them for the second round?”