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Dom slipped his hand into mine and nuzzled my hair. It was better for Max to see this than try to stay and follow up with what could have been a horrible mistake. The more feral part of me was yelling at me to shove Dom away and run off with Max, find a hotel, and wildly fuck this thing out of our system. But I knew how unpredictable Bunny could be, and I didn’t want anyone raining fresh hell upon me if they found out what I was doing with Bun’s future husband.
I should have left the glasshouse as soon as he showed up. I’d given into my desire and look where it had gotten me. I needed my dignity, but it was escaping me. If I surrendered to this magnetic pull and let myself be dragged under, I knew I’d get hurt again. I couldn’t risk it.
Dom tugged my hand as we made for the door. I gave vague instructions to Lucy to take care of Max and let Dom pull me into the elevator up to his office. I threw a glance back at Max before we left. He still sat, staring through the windows, not moving. I felt no guilt about leaving him there. In this battle of wills, there could only be one winner. So why was I so scared it might be me?
Max
Five of us stood like puppets on display behind the glass screen of our recording booth, waiting for the green light from the two techs on the other side. Looming over them were a team of twelve stiff-suited execs from the Storm Records head offices, tablets and phones at the ready, preparing to judge.
Our manager lost his shit when we showed him the new music. It’d been years since Carl had been this excited, bouncing at the front row table at the Grammy’s, back when we used to win awards.
I’d caved and brought in a pianist to add some atmosphere to the deeper songs. We’d worked with Sonny before, a second-generation Korean immigrant whose parents insisted she learn classical piano even though, in her heart, she’d always been a punk. She was completely professional, and I appreciated the way she politely left the room every time Steve laid into me about Cat. My songs were getting more extreme, and he was worrying.
I hadn’t told any of them what she’d revealed about Goss and the recording. It was driving me crazy, the thought of what he did to her, what I had done. I didn’t know. Not once had Goss said anything, and why would he?
I threw a glance behind me, making sure they were all ready. Steve was seated behind the drums, Luc and Bevel were amped up, and Sonny had her fingers on the keys. The mics hung from the ceiling, and they’d kitted us with headphones. Everyone nodded, and the techs hit Record.
We finishedUnder Your Heel, my voice trailing off as the guitars faded and we were left hanging. It sounded like pure heaven, and every drop was for her. I wanted to roll those words around Cat so she could hear what she did to me, so she would know I wasn’t that stupid kid who thought talking big behind his girlfriend’s back was cool.
The techs were beaming at us as the execs remained stony-faced. They were bastards like that. They never told us if they liked our music, probably scared it would give us the upper hand.
One of the suits leant forward, pressing the button to connect him to the booth. “Thank you. Do you have anything else?” His voice buzzed through the room.
It used to cut me deep when they did this. I’d wanted their approval, believing they were the gatekeepers to the world of fame. That was before I realised they didn’t have a clue what would be popular. No one did. A lot could be written by formula, but then a curveball likeGangnam Stylecomes along, and they go nuts trying to replicate it.
They wanted money. It was as simple as that. It was up to us to stay true to the music. We’d given up years ago and now we were paying for it.
“Six more,” I replied.
He released the button with a mechanical thud, and they went back to talking amongst themselves.
We carried on, getting lost in the music, and I swam with Cat as I drowned in the words. My obsession was slowly driving me crazy, but in its place was beauty. I could shape and blow life into this monster inside me that was smashing against the walls of my mind, desperate to be free. It was only three meetings; three times I’d looked into her eyes, her body so close to mine, her fingers on me while I savoured the depth of lust and loathing that emanated from her.
Fucking Dom. That fucking Dom, touching her, kissing her. The smile that burst on her face when he walked through the door. The way he called her Kitty Cat, how she melted for him so quickly despite everything we had been saying to each other, even though she’d been seconds from kissing me. It had been nearly a week, and it was still driving me crazy.
We finished another song, and my throat was aching. The bruising had faded, but the scratches were still there. We’d been practising so much since I first brought them the new music that my throat was wearing thin. I needed to be careful not to cause any more damage before the tour.
I handed out water bottles, took a drink myself, and got back into position. We were good to go. I adjusted my guitar, strumming a note to get us in place.
“Ready, guys?” I looked behind me again.
This was the one that really got Steve worked up.Preaching Love to the Devil’s Queen. I wasn’t exactly being subtle with the lyrics, but when Steve had questioned me and I told him about Dom, he’d lost it. He was a devoted believer in monogamy. He’d been blissfully married for seven years, meeting Liv on tour and deciding within weeks she was the one for him. They married four months later and have been living their happy lives ever since. Liv was one of our stylists and has been with us on every tour since then.
We launched into it. The heavy bass, solid drums, and light piano blended to create a perfect harmony for Luc and me. Our voices had always complemented each other. He had deeper tones, and I could hit the high notes he couldn’t.
I loved it. I loved this. I’d forgotten how much I needed creativity in my life. No wonder it felt so stale when we were churning out the same lyrics for the fans year after year. People loved the classics, but it wasn’t the same as bringing a new part of myself to life. I’d forgotten how well we worked together. We’d gotten into a routine of just singing, not analysing or questioning what we were doing. It was so habitual that I’d switch off, thinking I’d run this thing with my eyes closed.
My body ached with need for her. I’d wanted to know for so long why she vanished, and in the end, it really was my fault. Goss might have wrecked her flat, but I remember that stupid conversation and my regret. It was one time I gave in, drunk and stoned, and let Goss’s badgering for details about Cat get to me.
I pushed all my energy into the last lines. I wanted to be with her again, her body pressed against mine, her lips, her breasts, her hair. The strength of her arms, the fierceness in her eyes, her scent surrounding me. Everything she did trapped me, and I loved it.
I let out a slow breath into the microphone as we reached the end. It echoed throughout the booth. Everyone was silent, watching me. Had I put out too much? I’d become so bored over the years that ‘enthusiastic’ was the last word anyone would use to describe me.
I looked back to find the guys staring at me. I couldn’t read their faces, but Steve looked pissed. Sonny was grinning, and Luc simply nodded.
The intercom buzzed again. “Very good. We’ll meet you upstairs to discuss.”
And that was that.
