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He stared at the jumble of lines and curves dancing on the page.
He hated the legal mumbo jumbo.
He spied the arrow, then scrawled his initials.
LBP
He returned the forms to her and swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I understand the label is getting antsy, and I’m grateful they’re giving me a shot to branch out into acoustic rock. But my pop shows still sell out. I make them money.”
Mitzi slipped the waiver into her bag, then pursed her lips.
He knew this face. It was her expression when she was trying to find the best way to give him shit news.
“Your shows sell out, but you’re not generating new fans. Vance Vibe is an assclown, but he puts out new music constantly. I’m not sure how he does it.”
Searing jealousy engulfed him. It killed him that posers like Vance Vibe had it so easy when it came to making music.
“The guy’s got a handful of good songs. I’ll give him that. But he can’t sing. They manipulate his voice on his tracks, and he lip-syncs at his shows.”
Mitzi’s expression softened, which wasn’t a good sign. He didn’t worry when she was tossing out barbs and spitting venom. But her concerned countenance had him on edge.
“It doesn’t matter if Vance Vibe lip-syncs or if he’s the worst singer on the planet, which I agree, he is. He’s racking up fans hungry for his latest hit. Your sales have tanked, LB. Your fans bought your music years ago.”
She wasn’t wrong, and she’d called him LB.
Now that Leighton was gone, no one called him that anymore.
And it wasn’t good. Mitzi only dropped his initials when shit had gotten real.
He tried to steady himself.
But he couldn’t.
It was as if he’d lost his footing when it came to keeping up the pop star facade.
It was too much. The pressure was too much.
How was he supposed to care for Aria and figure out how to write a hit?
He cleared his throat. “Is there any word on securing a spot for me for Red Rocks Unplugged?”
Mitzi frowned.
There was his answer.
“Let me guess. No new music equals no spot.”
She reached into her bag and handed him his ball cap, cell phone, and glasses. “Skip the meet and greet. The event PAs and I will hand out photos. Go blow off some steam. You know what they say. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. But keep in mind, Landon, real life is about to hit, and there will be real consequences.”
He stared at the embroidered pillow. “I’d say learning that I was about to be dropped by my label is the definition of real life.”
Mitzi rested her hand on his chest. “I meant Aria. She needs you. You’re her closest connection to—”
“Yeah, I know, Mitz,” he said, cutting her off in a tumble of words, his voice thick with emotion.
“And,” she added.
He scoffed. “There’s more?”
