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I swallow thickly. He’s covering for me, he knows I stayed behind with Mia and what most likely happened. He knows, and he’s pissed, ready to go at blows with me but never in front of Hayes.
“R-Right,” I stutter. “We got separated, though. I went back to the hotel late,” I glare, daring him to contradict me, “but I don’t know what happened to Rush after.”
Cannon sighs. “You two need to grow the fuck up.”
“Amen,” Hayes adds.
I sneer. “Don’t act so high and mighty,” I tell Cannon. “I’ve caught you with your tongue down a few random throats.”
“Keyword there,” he sits up straight, “you said few.”
I sigh and sink on the couch, shutting my mouth. I can’t afford to piss off Cannon. Even if he’s angry with me I don’t think he’d rat me out to Hayes. We’d all be punished then, but I don’t risk it. I’m more worried about how it would bother Mia. She loves and respects her dad, his approval everything, and … I swallow past the lump in my throat as I realize he’ll never approve of me.
Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit about some daddy’s approval, but this isn’t some dad. This is Joshua Hayes, badass guitar player, member of one of the biggest bands in the world, and Mia’s dad
Fuck, I’m screwed.
I can feel Cannon glowering at me but I refuse to look at him.
There’s nothing I can do or say here in front of Hayes to not incriminate myself. Cannon’s disapproval rolls off him in waves, and I feel like screaming at him I know I fucked up … but I’d be lying. Last night with Mia, I wouldn’t take it back for anything.
A half-hour later Rush stumbles in, his hair damp, with a fresh set of clothes.
I try not to laugh, but it’s clear we ended up in the exact same situation.
“What’d I miss?” he asks, trying to play off his lateness with humor.
Once more Hayes swivels in the chair, having already told Fox to pause for the moment. Hayes flicks his eyes from Rush in the doorway to me on the couch and back again.
“I want to make something very clear to the two of you—if this happens again, if any of you step a fucking toe out of line, you won’t like the consequences. I’m an easy going guy for the most part, but you don’t want to piss me off, I promise you that.” He makes eye contact with each of us then, even Fox in the booth. “I won’t lie and say I didn’t screw up and screw around too. I goofed off, sure.” He shrugs. “But believe me when I say, those are the things you look back and regret. Yeah, it makes for interesting stories, but it’s stories to other people and your memories. You have to live with the shit you do, no one else. Think before you act.”
“Yes, sir,” we all mutter.
“Now, can we get back to work?” he asks with a raised brow.
He phrases it as a question, but we all know it’s not.
We nod and he swivels back to face the glass, motioning for Fox to start again.
Cannon mutters under his breath, “I’m going to kill you two.”
I eye him, and I’ll never voice it out loud but with those huge bodybuilder muscles, he could probably crush us both with his pinky finger in a single second.
An hour later Fox is done. He clasps his electric guitar and bends, picking something up from the floor before he exits.
He opens the door, squinting at the wrinkled paper in his hands.
I stare at it, the blood draining from my face.
My song!
“This is fucking good,” Fox remarks.
“What is it?” Hayes asks and Fox, fucking Fox, hands it over to him before I can protest.
Hayes reads over the lyrics, and I can’t read his face in the reflection of the glass to gauge whether he thinks it’s good or terrible.
“Huh,” he says, after he’s read it through twice, “you write this? It’s … really good.”
