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I paused to type out a quick text to Z.
Kingston: Sorry, overslept. Be there in ten.
More like twenty, but traffic in L.A. was always a pain in the ass, so I’d use that as an excuse. I felt bad, but it was probably no coincidence I’d forgotten the meeting. Well, slept in and then went for round two with the blonde.
I wasn’t looking forward to today.
At all.
Hell, it wasn’t even really a meeting. Well, there was supposed to be a quick fifteen-minute meeting at the beginning. Before the auditions started.
Ugh.
Auditions.
It was a necessary evil, but I was dreading it.
We were the top-grossing rock band of the decade, with more platinum albums and number one songs than I could count. As the lead singer, my face was everywhere. I was on countless magazine covers, performed in most of our music videos, and last night’s meeting had been about a deal to make several guest appearances on a popular TV show.
And yet, despite the money and success, we now had to audition bass players because Carter had killed himself.
I was still angry about it.
I understood it, but I was upset. He’d had so many demons, and his addiction had shaped his life for as long as I’d known him. But it hurt that he’d just checked out with no warning. I’d talked to him earlier that day and he’d been in a great mood, so I couldn’t help but wonder if that had been his plan all along. He’d been happy because he’d known his suffering was almost over.
Fuck.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel as I pulled into the parking lot of the recording studio where we were holding auditions.
The band had decided to honor Carter’s wishes by replacing him and carrying on, but I didn’t know how you did that.
Carter had been an enigma.
Tall and blond, with soulful dark eyes and a great smile.
He was full of mischief, quirky, and always the life of the party.
Despite his addiction issues, he was one of the most talented musicians I’d ever met, and he’d worked hard.
On top of that, we’d all loved him like a brother.
How the hell would anyone ever live up to all of that?
I slammed my car door shut and locked it behind me, taking my time as I strolled into the building. The guys were probably pissed, so what was the point of rushing? Besides, I didn’t even want to do this.
“About fucking time,” Z, our lead guitarist, gave me a look.
“Someone’s wearing last night’s clothes,” Tommy, our drummer, said, laughing.
“I overslept,” I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee. There was a small spread of bagels, muffins, and the like, and I plucked a plain bagel from the tray, along with some garlic-flavored cream cheese.
“Well, this is the list of who’s coming.” Kellan, our rhythm guitarist, pushed a printed piece of paper at me. “Thoughts?”
“Who invited Larry Hanks?” I demanded. “I don’t care if Jesus himself comes to vouch for him, he’s never joining Onyx Knight.”
“Told you,” Z said, laughing.
“This was Sasha’s doing,” Tommy added, referring to our new manager. “And she had no way of knowing Larry fucked your girlfriend in middle school and you’re still holding a grudge.”
