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will not trump what my soul knows…”
Opening my eyes, I sighed, relieved to see they were still there. I’d half expected to find myself singing to an empty room. My heart pounded as I waited for one of them to speak.
Come on. Please, please give me a shot.
Finally, Liam cleared his throat.
“Okay, that was better,” he admitted, flashing a glance at the other guys, who looked as stunned as he did. “Much better.” His brow creased as he tapped his finger against his thigh. He looked flustered.
“Good enough for a second chance?” I asked nervously, my eyes glued to his, willing him on. He and Harry exchanged another look. I could see they were weakening. Just say yes. Come on . . .
“We’re playing tomorrow at The Bell Center. It’s nothing big, just a private party we’ve been hired for. Impress, and you have the job. Sound fair?” Harry asked.
I nodded and blinked back tears. Why the hell was I crying? I laughed, which earned me a funny look from Liam, but I didn’t care. I was so messed up. I didn’t cry at funerals or during some of the darkest moments of my life, but a chance to be in a band? That made the floodgates open?
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I said, unable to wipe the stupid grin off my face. My hands flew to my face as I brushed away the tears.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he warned with a smile. “You haven’t met our manager. And you still need to impress tomorrow. This isn’t a done deal, okay? It’s a second chance. That’s it.”
I nodded. I have a real shot at this.
Holy shit. I was one performance away from being in a band. A rush of excitement poured through me as I realized how big this was. And this wasn’t just some no-name group, this was Resurrection—one of the hottest indie bands in LA at the moment.
Yeah, I wasn’t getting ahead of myself at all.
Chapter Two
Micah
“Wow,” I muttered under my breath. “Holy fucking shit.” I couldn’t believe I’d convinced them to give me another chance.
I stood outside The Melrose Hotel with my hands behind my head, trying to let the last few minutes sink in. People gave me a wide berth as they walked past—probably something to do with the insane laughter that was tumbling out of my mouth—but I didn’t care. By tomorrow night I could be the newest lead vocalist for Resurrection.
This was insane! It was—
Shit.
I glanced at my phone and realized I had less than five minutes to get to work. I picked up my pace, dodging my way around the crowds of people that only seemed to be there to get in my way.
The diner where I worked as a waitress was over on the other side of the city, and even running the entire way, I pushed my way through the door nearly a quarter of an hour late. If there was one thing my boss hated, it was tardiness. But then again, Marlon hated everything.
“You’re late.”
I jumped around the counter and grabbed my apron. Marlon scowled at me from in front of the grill, his chubby fingers curled around the spatula he was using to flip burger patties. I rolled my eyes and pasted a smile on my face as I turned to face him.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I had an appointment and it ran longer than I expected. I’ll stay an extra ten minutes after my shift,” I offered as I tied my hair back in a loose bun. He grunted in response and I knew that was as I was going to get to a yes.
“Table five has been waiting for ages,” he said gruffly.
I nodded brightly. Grabbing my ordering pad, I strode over to table five, cringing when I saw it was a group of seven young guys packed into the four-person booth. I just knew they were going to be a pain in my ass. Packs of guys always were. There was always one or two that would try and impress their friends by trying to pick me up or objectify me.
“What can I get for you?” I asked, pen poised.
“How about your number?” That was from the hotshot in the corner who looked like he’d used an entire container of hair gel.
“Sorry, I was talking about the menu,” I said sweetly. “I can highly recommend the pancakes with maple syrup.” That was our special of the day. We always had to pimp the special, because it usually meant Marlon had ingredients that were close to the ‘use by’ date.
“I’ve got something sweet and sticky you might enjoy.” He grinned as his friends sniggered. Ugh. This guy had to be kidding.
