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Letting out a low whistle, I shake my head with disappointment. How could a band at the top of their game for years suddenly fall so fast and hard?
“Your numbers,” I say, scrunching my nose.
“What numbers?” Asher asks cautiously, losing his breath when my gaze slams into his watery, hazel eyes filled to the brim with worry and concern.
“I’m so glad you asked,” I reply in a professional tone, sliding the paper in front of his face. His brows furrow when his eyes gaze over the page. “It’s your performance numbers. The amount you’re bringing in through ticket sales, online sales, and everything in between. It’s the numbers we evaluate every year to see if our investment is still paying off. And by the looks of it, Whispered Words is on their last leg,” I say, pacing back and forth at the head of the table. What they can’t see are my hands clasped firmly behind my back, trying to keep the shaking away from their eyes.
“Last-last leg?” Callum breathes, finally speaking up after staying silent for so long. The room falls away when his eyes finally connect with mine. A dark bruise rests beneath his eye, blackening his skin. Quickly, his eyes dart to the table once again, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and losing himself in the pattern of the table.
My heart hammers in my chest, nearly knocking me back into the past. Callum. Sweet, lovable, caring Callum has marks on his flesh. But from what? Who could have caused him so much damage? And what the hell has changed? It’s only been a few years. The last thing I could ever do was picture Callum putting his fists into the air and fighting with someone.
How much has each of them changed?
“I think you’re lying,” Kieran says, jumping to his feet and readying himself for a fight. “This is a fucking joke. There’s no way some Central girl could be working here. Let alone be our new band manager. This is bullshit!” Kieran explodes, slamming a hand down onto the wooden table. Everyone flinches away from his outburst, watching his contorted face twist with hate.
Ouch. Is that really what he thinks about me? A painful pang spears through my heart. My eyes barely recognize the boy who held my hands under the stars and told me I’d be okay. Who is this man standing before me? Has this ruined him? And why the fuck does Kieran hate me so much?
“Well, you should know that you’re here because West Records has placed your contract on probation.” I raise a brow when Rad’s face crumples, and his dark eyes glare down at the table, refusing to meet mine.
Tension laces every inch of his muscles, locking him in place, which gives me a chance to give him a once-over. Ashton Radcliffe may look the same as he did back in Central City with his dark and curly mullet and his lanky physique, but there are crucial differences shining through, hardening his closed-off exterior.
“This isn’t a joke. Believe me; I wouldn’t be here if it was some big ruse. You’re stuck with me. Like it or not.” I shrug again, taking a huge breath to relieve myself of the hurt brewing beneath the surface.
Anger vibrates through the entire room, setting my teeth on edge. Never in my life have I been met with such hostility, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. But what the hell do they have to be so hostile for? They left me. They left her. Not the other way around. I’m the one who should hate their guts. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I fucking do. But my professional duty binds me to their cause.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Probation? We haven’t done anything wrong. This is bullshit,” Kieran growls, slamming his fist into the table again. His hulking body heaves with every breath he takes, and those mismatched eyes glare at me head-on, ready to take me down.
“Well, that’s why we’re having this meeting, Mr. Knight,” I say, tilting my head. “We’re here to discuss your future.”
Kieran’s fiery eyes slam into my gaze, hardening the longer he stares, filling to the brim with hate and unsaid wrath ready to unleash on me. My breath leaves me, and my head spins until I collect myself and my heart off the floor.
His stare is a stark reminder of the little girl just a floor above us, patiently waiting for her Aunt Kaycee to collect her for a sleepover. It’s the reminder that he left her. They left her knowingly, refusing to listen to me. They gave up their responsibility with the flick of their wrist and signatures across restraining orders.
Fuck them.
“We have no future here with you. I’ll speak to my agent about this. There’s no way in fucking hell I’m working with you,” Kieran barks, twisting on his heels and stomping away.
Oh, cue the dramatics from the biggest dickhead around. Of course, he’d stomp and throw a fit at the sight of me. Idiot.Deep breaths, River. You have to reel them back in.Kieran always did have a flare for the dramatics, but this is pushing it too far. He’s running away like the big fucking coward he is instead of facing me. Sounds way too familiar for my liking. I’d rather him go back to the boy who strummed his guitar on the hill behind our apartment complex, singing songs he envisioned during school. Instead of that man, the one I fell in love with twice, I’m left with the angry shell walking away from me.
“Fucking Kieran,” Asher growls, climbing to his feet with determination. “You can’t fucking walk away. Not because it’s her.” His eyes follow Kieran’s slow, angry retreat, almost afraid to take his eyes off him.
My eyes narrow at the emphasis on the word her. Again. If they say it one more time like I’m not standing in front of them, I’ll lose my shit. Seriously, though. Who, me? Little ole River West? The girl you dumped so fast after witnessing Van Drake, my stupid ex, forcefully kiss me without permission in my kitchen as I nursed my grief alone. Alone! They left me at my own mother’s funeral without so much as a “sorry for your loss, Riv.” Anger simmers beneath the surface of my skin, bubbling and aching for me to act on it at the harsh reminder of their betrayal. My mind begs me to lash out and put them in their place, but I bury that piece of me. I’m not here to talk about the past. I’m here to discuss the future of their band. Nothing more. Nothing less.
As Kieran drifts farther away from the group of men staring at him with wide eyes, I slip back into my professional persona. With one last deep breath, I become River West—The Fixer. Not River West—The Brokenhearted.
“I can do whatever I want. I can’t be in the same room as her,” Kieran growls, picking up his pace toward the French doors on the opposite side of the room.
My edges harden at the wordheragain and how it’s implied. Maybe I should remind them of who they’re fucking with. I discreetly rub the handle of my old knife nestled in the pocket of my dress pants. Images of Kieran behind the counter at the old record store I worked at come to mind. I smirk. This time Kieran wouldn’t get a boner when I sit the edge of my knife near his dick, which I’ll promptly cut off if he keeps up this defiant rock star bullshit attitude. He’s on thin ice, growing thinner. Soon, he’ll drown at my hands.
Asher looks at me and back at Kieran with wide eyes, expectantly waiting for him to come back to his seat like a good boy. But if there’s anything I know about Kieran, he’s not a very good boy.
Every step Kieran takes is a step closer to him forfeiting their contract. I could let him go and walk out into the hall and wipe my hands clean of them and never look back. I could laugh as they realized they’d fucked themselves over by not staying in the same room as me. No more concerts. No more fangirls willing to suck their mediocre dicks on their tour bus. And no more West Records. Bye, bye Whispered Words. You can return to Central City and explain to your mommy why you’re back penniless and contract-less.
Inwardly, I groan, staring at the ceiling and counting backward. I’m better than that. I’m more professional than that petty behavior. Plus, my brothers would never let that fly. For some fucked up reason, despite knowing exactly what they did to me, they like their music.
The moment Kieran’s hand touches the handle, I sigh. My responsibilities nag at me to do the right thing, just this once, and I comply.
“Mr. Knight, you should know the moment you step out of this meeting, you void not only your contract with West Records but all their contracts as well,” I say in a smooth voice, crossing my arms over my chest and surveying the room.
