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And where the hell was she right now? She was part of the deal, and frankly, a major reason the network had greenlit theseries.
A major reasonwe’dagreed to do theseries.
“It’s not in the current budget,” the producer confirmed, looking at us and nodding eagerly, like what he’d said was somehow helpful. Frank something? I hadn’t bothered to remember his name. “But, yes. They’ll probablyask.”
“Fuck the budget.” That wasZane.
“I agree,” Jesse said, and I turned to look at him, because agreeing with Zane was something he was usually allergic to. “I’d rather we pay for it ourselves and keep the search going until we find someone right.” His dark brown eyes met mine; his gorgeous face was mere feet away from me. My stomach twisted a little, but it wasn’t the same way it had twisted when we were a couple. Or before that, when I wanted us to be a couple—badly.
It was a twist ofdiscomfort.
And I wondered: when the fuck was that ever going to go away? Was Ievergoing to be able to look at him and feel… nothing? Nothing but what I felt when I looked at Zane… a completely impersonal appreciation of his male charms—because they were completely irrelevant tome.
I looked away. He and Zane were right, but it was not what I wanted to hear right now. We were all burnt out on this search. Not the search that started with auditions last week. The search that started seven years ago when we lostSeth.
We’d been through eight different rhythm guitarists, officially, since Seth Brothers was dismissed from the band. And none of them had technicallyjoinedDirty. They’d been hired on, on temporary contracts, as studio musicians or touring musicians, or they’d played as “special guests” on our albums. The closest we’d come to actually filling the spot was when we’d hired Seth himself back six monthsago.
That contract had lasted meredays.
Since then, we’d been looking, fiercely, to fill the void. At this point, we were all starting to feel like we were cursed or something. Every time we thought we’d found our guy, it fellapart.
The documentary series was an idea cooked up by our management team, spearheaded by Brody and Maggie, along with Woo, our record producer, and developed with Liv. It was a good idea, for many reasons. It would—hopefully—create a lot of buzz and excitement when the series came out, excitement that would aid in the launch of our upcoming tenth anniversary album and tour. It also opened up auditions to the public, which meant casting a wider net, and the possibility of catching a risingstar.
Hopefuls had been screened by Woo and Brody as the first step in the process, which meant they’d watched dozens of hours of audition videos. The best, and in some cases, the worst—this was TV, after all—were invited to audition for the band. Today was the last day of auditions and, to date, we hadmaybea half-dozen half-decent prospects, but no realcontenders.
We’d all entered this thing a little guarded, since it was for TV. But we were hopeful, too. Excited and optimistic about the talent we might discover. And there had been many talented guitarists who’d played for us. Some incredible stories from people who’d traveled halfway around the world to behere.
But no one who’d rocked all our socksoff.
Everyone in the band was stressed out by now, frustrated over the failure to find a replacement for Seth, and it was coming out in tension betweenus.
The guys had continued bickering, but I’d managed to kinda tune them out. “American Woman” had just kicked in, and I’d started to zone right out to it when the music stopped and a voice said, “We’ve got one more.” It was Liv, over the sound system, like the voice ofGod.
Zane picked up his mic; it was still on. “Is she hot?” he asked into theether.
Brody walked over, took Zane’s mic from him and spoke into it. “We’re donehere.”
“Trust me,” Liv said, with her dry-as-hell tone. “You wanna hear thisone.”
Zane’s blue eyes met mine and his pierced eyebrow went up; I could see the spark of interest in them. He mouthed,What the fuck?at me, but I justshrugged.
Next to me, Jesse dropped his head back on his chair, his dark curls spilling over the back; his hair was getting long. It looked good onhim.
I looked away. We’d been broken up for well over a year, and it was still hard, most of the time, to look at him for more than a fewseconds.
On my other side, I could feel Dylan’s inaudible sigh. His boots tapped a restless rhythm on the floor, his knees bouncing up and down, and it wasn’t just because the man had drums constantly playing in his head. I knew he was dying to get the fuck out of here, but he didn’t sayanything.
Zane took the mic back from Brody and told him, “Sit your ass down, boss. I wanna hear this hot chickplay.”
I rolled my eyes. We’d had every age, gender and body type play for us, but in Zane’s mind, they were all hot chicks. Until the screen swept aside and revealed that theyweren’t.
Liv’s crew had discreetly materialized from the shadows and was firing up their equipment. I could see her Director of Photography, ready for action, and operators at all the cameras. Liv herself had reappeared and took her place at the row of monitors next to theDOP.
This had to be good, I supposed, or she wouldn’t have sent her guys back to work when they’d already headed out to eat before tearingdown.
Brody faded back to his post by the wall, and Dylan managed to drag himself to a more-or-less uprightposition.
All the stage lights that had been dimmed lit up, and the house band got into place. Ash was at his mic, sleek and sexy in his tight black jeans and Ramones T-shirt, his black hair artfully mussed and his piercings sparking in the light. He had new ink on his arm; a white-blonde mermaid that he swore up and down had nothing to do withme.
