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“What?” I ask, playing dumb.
“You can have any pussy you want, but that one.”
I narrow my eyes. “Who said I want that one?”
“The drool pooling out of your mouth says otherwise,” he snaps. “We need Hayes, man. This is the big break we’ve been waiting for, and we don’t need it fucked up because you can’t keep your dick in your pants and fuck the boss’s God-damn daughter.”
I’ve never seen Rush get so worked up over something.
He continues, “We’ve worked our asses off for years to have a chance like this and if you fuck it up for us…” He trails off.
“You’ll what? Kick me out of my band?”
“No,” he says. “But I know I’d never forgive you.”
The deadly calm voice he says it in tells me he’s not bluffing.
“Don’t worry about it,” I assure him. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”
I try to put as much meaning into my words as I can, and I must succeed because he nods, but in my gut I know it’s a lie. There’s something about Mia that intrigues me. She’s fiery, and not only because of her hair. I’ve never met a girl who seemed to dislike me so much and … well, I guess I want to change her mind.
After all, I’m fucking amazing.
I finish my omelet and I have to admit Mia is one hell of a cook. If she can make an omelet this damn good what else can she do?
Fox clears his throat and says, “Seriously, bro, this is our time. We need this. We don’t need anything fucking it up.”
“Why do you guys assume I’ll be the one to fuck it up?” I defend. I didn’t tell them about what happened in her room this morning so I don’t know why they’ve zeroed in on me as the problem child of the group.
Fox says softly. “We saw how you looked at her.”
Him and Rush exchange a glance and I snort. “How did I look at her?”
Rush tilts his head. “The same look you always get when you like a challenge.”
“We don’t need anything fucking this up,” Fox repeats quietly. “This might be our last chance.”
I grow quiet. I know he’s right. We’ve had moderate success, some singles that have done really well, but no actual album under our belt. Hell, I’m only twenty-five but time is ticking by on how long I, and the guys, can keep this up before we have to face reality and get ‘real’ jobs. Everyone tells you to follow your dreams, but dreams don’t always pay the bills.
I refuse to imagine a life where I fail. Where we fail. We’ve fought too hard for this, and yes I can be a cocky bastard at times, but I’ve never, not once, believed we couldn’t do this. Hayes taking us under his wing, signing us to his record label, and being willing to produce our first record is huge for The Wild.
It pisses me off they think I would do anything to jeopardize how hard we’ve worked to get to this point. Yeah, Mia intrigues me. And yes, under normal circumstances I’d have her under me in five seconds flat, but I’m not stupid. I know I can’t fuck this up.
They don’t say anything else, knowing they’ve pissed me off and shouldn’t push their luck. I don’t look up as they get up and leave, Rush surprisingly cleaning his plate and the one Mia left behind before he leaves.
I sigh, finishing my omelet even if I can hardly taste it now.
Nothing but sourness clings to my tongue.
* * *
An hour later the four of us are piled into Hayes’s SUV headed for the studio. I sit up front and no one argues, they know I’m in a mood and it’s best to give me space. I’m also nervous. I’ll never admit it out loud, but I am. We’ve been in a recording studio before, sure, but never when it meant what it does today. The first step to a full-length album. There’s a lot riding on this. Our pride, our dreams, our futures. If we fail there is no fucking safety net to catch us. It’ll be a free fall straight down to the damn concrete.
I look broodingly out the passenger window at the passing mountains and farmland. It’s so different from the hustle and bustle of L.A. The guys and I all grew up in Tennessee, but we’ve been in California for so long now that the rolling hills of the Appalachian Mountains seem foreign. However, I’ll admit the quiet of the country is almost welcome. It quiets the chaos of my mind. Not much can do that these days, not even sex or alcohol dulls it anymore.
The hour or so drive goes by in silence. I think after last night the guys are all scared to rock the boat with Hayes. I don’t blame them. He was pissed.
Hayes parks his SUV behind a building and then we follow him around the front where Mist Records & Studio is frosted on the window. Hayes unlocks the door and ushers us inside.
