Nick nods, pulling his phone from his shirt pocket. It’s rung three times since he started the meeting, and until now he’s had the decency to ignore it. He glances at the screen, cringes, and his shoulders curve forward when he recognizes the number.
“Look, I’ve got to take this, but just know… sales in the UK have been matching sales here in the States for months now. If the tour does well, then there’s no stopping you guys!”
“Okay, okay, let’s just hold up a sec…” I say, always the pessimist. And I don’t give a shit if that’s how they label me. One of us has to keep things real. “I don’t think we should get carried away just yet.”
Nick rolls his eyes, wandering off into the sound booth to take the call, and Jaxon snatches a cushion up from the couch, hurling it across the room at me. I catch it right before it hits me in the chest.
My glare goes up a notch. “What?”
“Can’t you just let us enjoy this?”
“We haven’t even finalized the last set yet, Jax. I’ve got three months left to write four new songs.Four. That takes time; you guys understand that better than anyone else.”
Quinn looks out the window at the darkening sky and lets out a big sigh. “We get it, Reed. We really do, but –”
“No, listen to me. This is a business in case you’ve forgotten. A very lucrative business and trends change in the blink of an eye. We need to stay focused and not be distracted by flashy hotel rooms or private jets. Let’s keep our heads in the game and focus on what we do best.”
Kael makes a poorly veiled attempt to conceal his disapproval. Like I care. I frown straight back at him. He can scoff all he wants, but he knows I’m talking the truth. I don’t give a fuck what Kael Jenson thinks of me anyway. I’m not the one who pisses my money up the wall on a daily basis, and then wonders why he doesn’t have anything to show for his enormous success.
The guy is talented as hell–he plays bass like a fucking man possessed. He’s naturally brilliant, and he does it effortlessly, that’s why he landed the gig with Cold Neptune in the first place.
But what’s the point of sugar coating things.
Kael has a drinking problem. When he’s not drunk off his face, or stoned, or worse, he’s getting into bar fights or being chased by club owners looking to clear his gambling debts.
Kael doesn’t know when enough is enough. He’s constantly getting into trouble with management. He’s a paparazzi dream come true. They follow him around just waiting for him to screw up. And if last year’s DWI debacle wasn’t enough, there was also the little matter of public urination and an underage pregnancy scare. Thank fuck the pregnancy turned out to be a false alarm, because seriously, that one cut a little too close to the bone for me.
I swear I could have killed him with my bare hands.
I glance across at Quinn again before I say something back to Kael that I might later regret. Quinn has a way of talking me down from the edge, he always has, but when I meet his eyes, I notice they’re narrowed in on me so closely that it makes me second guess myself.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask.
“Dude.” He fidgets nervously with the frayed holes in his jeans. “Jaxon’s right. We know what’s ahead of us, and we always put in the hard work when we have to. You know that. The band means too much to all of us to let our standards slide. Just a couple of beers and then we’ll get back to work, promise.”
This catches Kael’s attention.
Of course it fucking does.
He grabs his denim jacket off the back of the chair and yanks his arms roughly through the sleeves before Quinn’s even finished talking. “You’ve sold me,” he says, jumping to his feet. He bends over to lace up his boots. “Seriously, Reed, we deserve to let our hair down every once in a while.”
“You don’t have any hair,” I deadpan.
“Ha ha, look at you being all fucking hilarious,” he says it in a voice that makes him sound like he’s not the full deal. He pats down his jeans to make sure he has his wallet and keys with him. “Come on, let’s go.”
Jaxon’s already halfway out the door. “The Buckley’s showing the game on the big screen tonight, and its two-for-one beers. What’s not to love about that?”
Quinn bursts out laughing. “We arenotgoing to The Buckley.” He shakes his head, a strangled sound emanating from somewhere deep in his throat. “We’ll go to Leon’s instead. Mandy, that’s the waitress’s name at The Buckley, just in case anyone’s interested, told me the last time we were in there, that if Kael ever shows his face in that place again, she’ll call the cops.”
“She did not say that!” Kael protests.
“She did so.”
“Nah, you’re wrong. She promised me her number last time we were there.”
“She didn’t promise you her number, you idiot. Her exact words were‘your number’s up.’So how about we give the place a wide berth for a while and let Mandy settle down before she takes a restraining order out on your sorry ass for touching her inappropriately.”
“Since when are breasts off limits?”