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“I figured that. And I’m not worried about your past. What I am concerned about, though, is if you’re good enough to play with the band. Can you handle a keyboard?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” I say, feeling utterly defeated since she showed me that image.
“Lyric, I want you to give it a try anyway. And who knows, if Bobby doesn’t get his act together, you can have his spot in the band.”
“Don’t say that. Bobby will be back,” I assert, as if saying it will make it happen. But I have absolutely no clue what that man will do.
“We will see.” Dante takes a breath, like they’re wading through treacherous territory. “Now, about your father.”
“He’s a dick,” I blurt out.
Dante bursts out laughing, and it’s loud enough that everyone on the stage startles and looks over at us. “That he is.”
“I heard about the hostel.”
“Dick move, that is for sure. I reached out to KJP and they had no clue how that happened. They sent me a confirmation from another hotel with our reservation. I explained to them about your father and that we don’t appreciate being treated like that.”
“What did they say?” I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, watching Dante.
They smile wide. “I wasn’t privy to that part since Warrior Black’s record label jumped in on the conversation. But I can say that your father is on thin ice with KJP.”
“Good,” I say vehemently. “He deserves whatever he gets.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Dante says, then turns to look at the stage. “You better get up there. You have some practicing to do.”
“Thanks, Dante.”
Their eyebrows furrow. “For what?”
“For being you.” I get up and head toward the stage, where every band member is finding their spot on the platform. I catch Rafe watching me.
He has the electric guitar he brought with him across his body, looking even more like a rock god than when I last saw him on stage at Rocktoberfest.
He waves at me to come over to him, and I do as I scan the section of the stage where Dante pointed to find the keyboard. I spot it set up to the right, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed at the idea of me being back on stage to perform.
Even though it has been years since my personal life was made public, and I’m not singing, just thinking about being in front of a crowd again is intimidating. I don’t know how these guys do it, but it does take balls.
“What do you think?” Rafe says as he runs his fingers down the neck of his guitar. “It’s small but the space on stage is enough for us to move around a little.”
“You look good,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat up. “But you always do.”
“Don’t say shit like that to me, or else I will take you to the back room and fuck you silly.” Rafe leans in and kisses me sweetly. A total contradiction to his warning.
“If I let you take me to the back room and fuck me… It better be hard.” Lust shines bright in his eyes, and as I watch, his pupils blow out.
“Don’t tempt me,” he growls.
“Can we do the eye-fucking later?” Danny grouses. “We practice first, and then the fucking later, right babe?” he says to Tobias, who’s standing by John. Both men have goofy smiles on their faces.
I reluctantly pull away from Rafe and get myself acquainted with the keyboard set up. It’s an eighty-eight key model, so just like a piano, but it has slides and buttons that are labeled for pitch bends, mixtures of different tones, and volume.
“You can do this,” I tell myself as I run my fingers along the keys and then the buttons on the top and the slides on the side.
“Trust me, it isn’t hard. Bobby usually focuses on the keyboard itself. Every now and then he’ll add some pitch bends on certain songs. But that’s it,” Rafe says.
“Do you know which songs?” I ask, panic beginning to rise up.
Danny comes over to us. “Are you ready? I want to start with something simple.”
