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“My band’s name is Warrior Black and I’m not the singer, but the lead guitarist.”
“Still a rockstar,” she says with a wink. “To be so young and handsome. Lyric, you picked a good one.”
Lyric steps in front of me. “Seriously?”
She angles her head slightly my way. “Mr. D’Angelo, what are your intentions with my son?”
“Eomeoni,” Lyric barks loudly, his tone hard and cold like a solid block of ice, and even his grandmother jumps slightly. Then she shakes her head and shuffles into the kitchen.
“What did you say?” I whisper to Lyric.
“Mother,” Fig and Ji says in unison.
I glance at the two before I utter to Lyric, “Let’s hear her out and then she can leave.”
Lyric meets my eyes as his shoulders slump. “Fine. You can join us for dinner.”
“How gracious. Oh, by the way, Mr. D’An—”
“Please, call me Rafe,” I say cordially, for the sake of Lyric.
“Rafe. You can call me Lee. I’m looking forward to hearing your music in a couple of weeks,” Lee says as she takes a seat on the torture sofa like she’s a regal queen.
“What are you talking about?” Lyric asks his mother before turning to me, confusion across his face. “What is she talking about, Rafe?”
I stand frozen, as shock from Lee’s comment slams into my brain like a battering ram. Holy shit. I was right. It was Lyric’s father who set up the invitation for my band to come here.
The invite was extended as a way to make Lyric even angrier. His father knew it would be like throwing a log into a tall pyre, fueling the anger Lyric already feels for him. This whole situation isn’t designed to hurt me or my band. It’s that bastard’s way to hurt Lyric. He’s the one who’s going to get burned from this.
I don’t know how to tell him about the call I received from Danny and the invite, but I have to break the news to him gently, one way or another.
Chapter Sixteen
Lyric
Istare at Rafe in complete bafflement. “What is she talking about, Rafe?”
His throat is working as his eyes dart to Fig and then back to me. “Danny called while you were on the phone. He said the band received an invite to play at Club FF two Saturdays from now.”
“An invite? From whom?” Then a chill comes over me as the pieces come together. My widening eyes slide to my mother, who’s looking around the living room like this is the first time she has seen my grandmother’s place. My stomach drops and a nauseous, uneasy feeling settles in. “Tell me he didn’t.”
She finally meets my gaze. “What?” Her bold remark conveys innocence, but I know better. I remember the day my father confronted me about that viral video of me and Min Jun. She stood to the side, looking guiltless while her husband told me I was being shipped to the States for ruining my career and their reputation by getting caught on tape, kissing a boy.
“Stupid isn’t becoming of you,” I say flatly to her. “Now tell me why.”
Her false bravado is gone, replaced with a pout. “Your father is only looking out for your best interest.”
“My best interest? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, that man only looks out for himself.” I snort. “What is his game? What does he think to gain by inviting Rafe’s rock band to play in a club when the event hasn’t even been promoted? No one will show—not without promotion. And there is not enough time for that.” Then I let out a huff, because that’s it. The plain truth coming out of my own mouth. “He wants them to fail. Look stupid. Just to hurt me.”
“No, my son,” Eomeoni says.
“No fucking way,” Rafe hisses out. “I knew something fishy was going on with that invite. I’m calling Danny back and telling them to cancel.”
“No, you can’t,” I say quickly to him. “My father is hoping for that.” Then I turn to my mother, who’s eyeing me with a look I haven’t seen in a long while. Pride. In me.
It stuns me and something shifts in my heart, but I ignore it. “We need to come up with something to beat him at his own game.”
Then she stuns me again when she says, “Good. I hope you do. Now that I’ve done what I came here to do, I’m heading back to Thailand.” She blows me an air kiss, then calls out to my grandmother that she isn’t staying for dinner and walks to the front door. Her driver is standing there, waiting, umbrella ready.
