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“Like who? And where the hell did Flynn go?”
The man in question came down the stairs in a pair of jeans and no shirt, his tattoos on full display along with an impressive amount of chest hair. Idly, I scratched my own chest through my shirt. I had some, but not like that. I also didn’t have that many tattoos, or that snarly of a look at being awakened.
“Better not be some Bible thumper,” he muttered before going to the door. He yanked it open and Sabrina stepped inside without so much as a greeting. My band stood behind her.
I jerked up to a sitting position and shoved a hand through my mop. And found far more air than I expected.
Shit.
“What did you do to yourself? Jesus H. Christ.” Sabrina stomped past Flynn with barely a glance.
He was glancing at her, however. His head was tilted to take in the undoubtedly striking picture she made in her navy suit, eye-searing lime blouse, and probably ten-inch stilettos. The ice pick kind she could use to stab out one of my eyes.
“Did you not read your contract? Section H, part IV clearly states that there will be no significant changes to your personal look without prior approval from your team. Your team was not notified, and definitely did not approve.” With a huff, Sabrina grabbed a hank of my hair. “You look like a damn mongrel puppy.”
“But I’m still dashingly handsome. C’mon, you know it.”
She didn’t stab me, but I was keeping a watch for any sudden moves. “We’re going to have to fly Beatrice down here before anyone can see you.”
“What, now I’m house-bound?”
“He’s almost ready to head home anyway. So, no need to send any emergency poodle trimmers, he’ll be back in his own sphere soon enough.”
“Who says I’m ready to head home?” I couldn’t keep the petulance out of my voice.
“Your work says it,” Rory said at my side. He still looked half-asleep but that didn’t keep him from chiming in.
Judas.
“I can work from here.” I glanced past Sabrina to the assorted members of my new band. I pointed at Grant Harrison, my lead guitarist. He arched a brow and looked over his shoulder as if he was saying “who me?” “You’re game to work here, right?” At Flynn’s hard stare, I cleared my throat. “At least for a day or two.”
He shrugged. “Sure. I guess. We weren’t given much choice. Sabrina said we needed to cut that single and get it into rotation.”
Ignoring that tidbit, I looked at Perry Thomas, my drummer, who’d styled her pink bangs into a wave that dipped over one big blue eye. “What about you? Would you find it acceptable to work here briefly?”
She shrugged and popped her gum. “Sure. Better than riding on that tin can called a bus.”
Finally, I turned my attention to Lark, also known as Ariana Larkin. She played bass. “Your turn to weigh in.”
“Doesn’t matter to me.” She propped her platform boot on Flynn’s coffee table and pulled out a lollipop from behind the zipper. “Have sweets, will travel.” At Sabrina’s glance, she shrugged and unwrapped her sucker. “This is breakfast.”
Sabrina rolled her eyes. “I brought them so you could record a rudimentary track with them backing you so we could get that song to market before everyone forgets about you. Not so you could hide here forever. You have the rest of your EP to record with Simon back home.”
My throat started to close. She still didn’t know. Donovan—or Simon—must’ve not told her. The contract hadn’t been cancelled yet. But I couldn’t pretend that everything was coming up roses. I had to tell her. Somehow.
In front of all these people.
“You can’t nurse your broken heart forever, you know.” Flynn’s voice jolted me out of my thoughts. “You’ve hidden out long enough. Time to track her down and tell her you’re not ready to say goodbye.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That’s not really for you to decide, now is it?”
“That’s why you’re here. You have a whole life waiting for you. But you gotta deal with your woman
shit first.”
“Woman shit?” Sabrina arched an eyebrow, giving Flynn the briefest glance. A distasteful one at that, taking in his lack of shirt. And shoes. And any expression other than a smirk. “Clearly, we’re in the presence of an evolved male.”
“It’s not just about her,” I said quietly. But enough of it was.
