Nick shrugged but took the bait. Last time Ethan brought us a demo, we ended up making millions. It was worth a try.
“This time, I want a cut,” Ethan said when Nick rose to his feet to fetch his laptop. “Percentage of sales would be best.”
“I have told you time and time again to join us as a head-hunter.”
“If you like them, I might just do that.”
After just one verse, I wanted to meet the band. The lead singer had a powerful, unique voice—a blend between croaky and gruff in a way that makes girls wet. The beat required sprucing up, but it was nothing one of our producers couldn’t fix.
“If they play open mic, they might be out somewhere now,” I told Nick, and turned to Ethan. “Can you get in touch with them to check if they’re playing anywhere live tonight?”
“Sure, Chase gave me his number. Hold on a tic.”
He left the room with a phone to his ear, and Nick replayed the song, his smile growing wider with each note the singer hit with a sniper’s precision. We were going to cash in on those guys big time.
Amelia entered the room, holding her phone out as if to take a selfie, acting as if she was invisible to us. It was her usual play during poker nights. If on the odd occasion she couldn’t find something to do, she tried her best not to get in our way, but she often came downstairs for a glass of wine or snacks. We didn’t mind her presence, but she was adamant to give Nick some freedom once a week and was usually in and out of the kitchen within seconds and without as much as a glance our way.
“Isn’t it like five o’clock in the afternoon in New York? Why are you still in bed? And when will you start to eat again? You’re so thin I’m actually jealous.”
“I was taking a nap before work. I couldn’t sleep last night.”
Nadia’s voice resonated from the speaker on Mel’s phone sending a wave of hot and cold shivers down my spine as if my body couldn’t decide whether it was happy or anxious to hear her.
Both, probably.
Nick frowned and turned around to snatch the phone from his wife.
“Work? Why do you work? And where, sis?”
“I make the best coffee in a diner two blocks away every day from eight in the evening till two in the morning,” she recited, her voice playful. “I needed something to do. Working nights means Ty gets some sleep and isn’t so grumpy anymore. Also, I have an excuse not to watch Adrian start his training this week, but don’t tell him that.”
Nick’s frown deepened. “Why aren’t you cheering him on? You were always first to see him fight.”
“I no longer find violence entertaining.”
“You want me to quit? Just say the word, puppet, and I’ll quit.”
Adrian’s voice sounded from the speaker, and I burst into fucking flames. Anger burned my stomach like battery acid. I listened to Jim Henson there, my palms damp and my leg bouncing on the floor.
“No way!” Nick exclaimed. “You might not be my brother-in-law anymore, but you are supposed to stay the best boxer I’ve met.”
“Don’t count on that,” Adrian chuckled, making my skin crawl. “I’m way out of form.”
I hadn’t met the guy, but I loathed the asshole more than anyone. It wasn’t even about Nadia going back to help him, because, let’s face it—it wasn’t Adrian’s fault she didn’t love me, but he did hurt her, somehow, and that was enough for me to hate his guts.
Okay, fine. I also loathed him because Nadia chose him. Happy?
“Who are you kidding?” Nadia clipped.
It was easy to imagine what she looked like now—chewing on her cheek, nostrils flared, arms crossed and adon’t-bullshit-meattitude.
Nick raised an eyebrow, prompting theassholeto explain.
“She’s annoyed because I nailed some shithead at the club last week. You know I can’t stand those fucking vultures eyeing her up.”
Nick sneered but didn’t get a chance to get a word in before Ty’s voice boomed in the background.
“Either move away from her, or I’ll fucking move you myself.”