Levi was looking straight at Viper when he said it, meaning someone had filled him in on past band drama. Or maybe it was that he knew if anyone was gonna get mouthy, it’d be my boyfriend. But Viper merely shrugged, like he couldn’t care less, and when he caught my eye, he winked.
We ran through the interview with no issues, and no questions about their former lead singer, while out of the corner of my eye I could see Levi running around doing damage control. In other words, making sure Trent and Fallen Angel didn’t come anywhere near each other tonight. I doubted any of the guys would make a scene in front of all these people, but I’d never met Trent, so who knew what his reaction would be to seeing us? I didn’t think he’d care one way or another that I’d taken his place, since he was the one who’d left the band. Part of me was curious about him, since he’d grown up with Viper and Killian and they’d been friends and bandmates for so long. And, yeah, regardless of the other guys’ opinions, I was still a huge fan, especially of his new solo stuff. Not that I’d ever tell Viper that, or I’d never hear the end of it.
Levi led us down the row to the next raised platform to interview with one of the cable entertainment shows, and as I followed the guys up the stairs, my eyes caught on Trent, who was looking in our direction with an unreadable expression. It was easy to see why fans had been in such an uproar about him leaving the band—he was definitely an attractive guy. Chin-length chestnut hair, piercing hazel eyes, and a confidence you couldn’t mimic.
For a moment, it looked like Trent wanted to head in our direction, but then a woman who looked every bit a PR maven whispered something to him, and he seemed to change his mind, following her the opposite way toward the theater.
“Don’t worry. He won’t say anything,” Killian whispered to me before putting on a charming smile for the host.
I found Killian’s reassurances interesting, because I didn’t care one way or another about Trent saying anything to me. I did, however, care about Viper clearing the air with his old friend, but whether Viper would be open to that, I couldn’t exactly ask right now.
“Congratulations on your nominations tonight, guys,” the host, a woman in a blood-red one-shoulder dress, said, as the team behind the scenes handed us microphones. “You’re up for Best New Artist, Best Rock Band, Best Song, and Best Album. Which of those four are you most hoping to win?”
“This feels like a trick question, Robin,” Jagger said, turning his megawatt smile in the host’s direction, and I almost felt a little sorry for her when she blushed. “We’re hoping to win all four.”
“Of course you are,” she said with a laugh. “You’re up against your old bandmate, Trent Knox, for Best New Artist. How are you feeling about that?”
“I wasn’t aware we were up against anyone,” Viper said smoothly, and then he gave a cheeky wink at the camera.
“That’s probably because you guys have been so busy on tour. I’ve got my tickets ready for your L.A. stop, but for those at home who haven’t grabbed tickets, can you tell us a bit about what you can expect from the show?”
Slade lifted the mic and looked straight at the camera as he said, “A melt-your-panties fucking hot time.”
The eyes of every crew member behind the scenes went wide, and even Robin was thrown off her game for a couple of seconds. She recovered fast, though, and to the camera said, “Thank God we’re on a ten-second delay.”
“Oh. Whoops,” Slade said, not looking sorry at all and handing his microphone to Killian, most likely so he could resist the urge to say anything more.
“Um. Okay,” Robin said, overly brightly, plastering on a big smile that didn’t look sincere. “It was good to see you guys, and good luck tonight.” She looked eager for us to get off the platform, and after we handed our mics back and headed back down to the red carpet, I chuckled and slapped Slade on the back.
“I think that might’ve sold anyone at home who was on the fence about coming to one of our gigs,” I joked.
“Nah, they probably bleeped the whole thing,” Jagger said, before coming to an abrupt stop as Levi stepped in front of us with his hands out.
“Did you guys really say ‘panty-melting’ and ‘fucking’ on camera?” he said, his usually calm demeanor looking a little shot.
Our heads all turned in Slade’s direction, who looked surprised that we’d put him on blast, but then he shrugged. “I forgot we couldn’t say that. And if you want specifics, I said, ‘melt-your-panties fucking hot,’ not ‘panty-melting.’” When Levi stared at him blankly, Slade said, “What?”