“Just get to the damn point,” Braxton cuts in, snatching the joint from Declan. “You want to stay in New York, and you need us to agree.”
I open my mouth, shocked as shit that he hit the nail on the head. “How did you know?”
“It doesn’t take a brain surgeon,” Declan says. “We saw you walk in with her after the funeral, holding hands.”
“It’s not like that,” I start.
“Of course it’s not,” Declan replies. “Because it’s too soon. She’s only just gotten a divorce. She needs time to get over whatever that fucker did.”
“But this time, how about you not wait until she’s moved on and found someone else, yeah?” Braxton hands me the joint, and I take a hit. “I hate this fucking city, so if I’m going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future, you better fucking man up and do something this time.”
“Do what?” Bailey asks, strolling into the studio. Her nose scrunches up in disgust at the smell of weed, and she steals the joint from me, dropping it into my can of soda.
“Get the girl,” Declan says with a smirk.
“What girl?” she asks, confused.
“Layla… duh.” Declan rolls his eyes. “Is there any other girl for your brother?”
“Does this mean you’re staying?” she asks, her voice rising several octaves in excitement.
“Yeah,” Braxton tells her.
“But you guys hate New York,” she points out.
“Camden doesn’t,” Gage says, speaking for the first time. “Camden never had his shot. When shit went down”—he swallows thickly—“he got on that plane for us. Now, regardless of how much we hate this city, it’s our turn to stay for him.”
Fuck, these guys.
Gage glances at me, taking another joint from behind his ear and lighting it, despite knowing Bailey will grab it and snuff it out. “This time, get the fucking girl. Don’t make us being here a waste.”
Bailey does just as I thought and snatches the joint, dropping it into Gage’s beer. “Have you told Dad? You’re supposed to be working on your next album. We’re going to have to make adjustments.” I can see her brain shifting into work mode as she pulls out her phone and starts typing. “Shit, Cade has to stay in LA. Now, I’m going to have to find someone else to film the web series.”
“Hire Layla,” I say.
Her head pops up. “What?”
“Hire Layla to film the series. We’ll also have music videos we have to do. She can do those as well.”
“She’s never worked in the music industry,” Bailey says.
“I don’t care.” I shrug, propping my feet up on the table. “She has natural talent. I want her. Cade can work with someone else in LA, and we can record our album here.”
“Thank you for meeting with us,” Bailey says two days later in the conference room in Blackwood Records’s office.
“I’m not sure what I’m doing here,” Layla says, glancing around at everyone sitting at the table. Because everything is done through Blackwood, my dad—our manager—and my mom—Blackwood’s attorney—are here, along with me, Bailey, since she’s in charge of all media, and the guys, who I brought in as reinforcements because she likes them and has always had trouble telling them no.
“Raging Chaos has decided to relocate to New York for the foreseeable future,” Bailey says.
Layla’s eyes dart over to me in shock. “You’re… You’re moving back here?”
“Figured it was time I came home. Missed my family.”
The guys chuckle but keep their mouths closed as Layla nods slowly. “Okay, what does that have to do with me being here? I actually have an interview at Picture Perfect soon.” She glances at her phone to look at the time. “I told Bailey, but she said she just needed to speak to me for a moment.”
“We want to hire you,” I say, cutting to the chase. “Cade, the videographer you covered for at the charity concert, has to stay in LA, so we need someone to document us. Since we have a few shows to attend, there will be some travel, but mostly it will be here, at the place we’re renting, at the studio. We’re doing a web series for the fans to get a behind-the-scenes look at what goes down when we’re recording an album, from us writing the songs to recording them. We’re also going to need to do a couple of music videos. One of them will be fan-based, the footage from over the years… from the beginning, spanning over various tours, meet and greets, etcetera.”
Layla slow blinks several times before she finally speaks. “Why me?”
I knew she would ask that, especially since she hasn’t done shit in the music industry, so I’m prepared to answer her. “Because you’re talented. We’re picky about who we let into our world, and we’re extremely private. Cade has been with us for years, but he can’t be here. So we talked, and we want you.”