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The confidence his words instilled in Michael made him more sure with every passing second that this was right. It had to be right.
In his current world of fuckery, this one good thing needed to happen.
“He sprained his wrist and he can’t play tomorrow night. We have our biggest show yet at the House of Blues in Vegas. Three of us on the bill, though of course Warning Sign is opening.”
“For now.” Mal nodded. “You do your time, then you move on.”
“Yeah. But without a drummer, we can’t go anywhere. Lila’s gonna rip us a new one.”
“So she’ll nab a studio musician from somewhere. There’s gotta be tons of them.”
“This is our biggest gig yet. You really think now is the time to try to work with some studio type none of us have ever even met?”
“Doesn’t sound like you have much choice. Sorry to say.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Michael took a deep breath. “You wanted to know what the deal was? I’ll come to the wedding. You fill in on drums tomorrow night.”
Mal stared at Michael for a minute, then dropped his head back and roared with laughter. “Jesus fuck, you’ve lost your mind.”
“No, I think I’ve
finally found it.” Michael clapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “So what do you say? You in or not?”
Mal said nothing, so Michael nodded, dropped his hand and moved back. “I get it. It’s scary to come out on a big stage like that without any experience, or even any real practice time in years. It’s fucking terrifying.”
“You think I’m scared? Do you know what I used to do?”
“Yeah, I know you used to get behind the wheel and race fuckers as stupid as you, risking all your lives. Believe me, I know. That doesn’t mean you’re not scared to touch the sticks again.”
Mal turned away. “Fuck that shit. And fuck you too.”
“We’ll be at the plane at nine am tomorrow.” Quickly, Michael rattled off the address of the airstrip where Donovan Lewis’s jet would be located to take them to Vegas in the morning.
Malachi didn’t respond. Just walked away and slammed the door shut behind him.
Michael locked his hands behind his neck and bent at the waist, sucking in a deep breath. Either he’d just saved their asses or they were just as fucked as before.
And his brother probably wouldn’t ever speak to him again.
Chapter 4
“I still say we could have done this as a road trip. Vegas isn’t that far from LA.”
“I could only get three days off, remember?” Chloe Adams glanced at one of her best friends. Her white-knuckle grip on the arms of the plush airline seat belied the calmness of Jinx’s voice. She wasn’t wild about letting people know her weaknesses. Flying being one of them, of course.
Personally, Chloe wasn’t worried about the massive personal jet they were on. Or keeping it in the sky. Mr. Lewis only owned the best—this ridiculous Lear jet was only one of the fleet that he owned. Seriously, who owned a fleet of planes other than an airline?
Right, a billionaire, that’s who. Something that was so far out of her stratosphere it was laughable. She’d had to work three doubles, and sell off her precious weekend to Jersey Janice to get time off for this little trip. Dude, she hated Janice.
Almost as much as she hated her job. It was a tossup, truly.
No, all her worry was at home, in her tiny apartment, with her almost two-year-old son. She pulled out her phone again.
Jinx flipped her braid over her shoulder. “If you FaceTime with the kid again, I’m going to steal your phone.”
She stuffed her phone back into her hoodie pocket, resisting the urge to pout. “There’s free Wi-Fi, it seems stupid not to use it.” And when they got to Vegas, who knew if her little prepaid phone would have a good signal. She’d paid extra for data and minutes for this trip just so she’d be available at all times.
“He’s having grandpa time. He’s fine.”
