Cale is our bass player, and I’ve known him forever. Cale, Dex, and I grew up together. The three of us put Vintage together. Cale is my best friend, the only guy I trust, and I know he has my back because he’s proven it to me on more than one occasion.
Sonny is our drummer. He joined the band when we first started. We put up fliers for auditions, and he was the only one who turned up. Thankfully for us, he rocked. He’s a demon on the drums. I’ve never heard anything like him.
Van hasn’t been with us long. He joined on as lead guitar when Dex left—well, when I say left…
“Dex stays. I go.” I stiffen my back with my eyes lifted but not on Dex.
I can’t bring myself to look directly at him. If I do, I’m afraid my resolve will slip. The loss of him in my life will break through, and I will crumble.
Dex is the sun, and I can’t look directly into his burning gaze.
Cale gets up from his seat and walks over to me. He stands beside me and takes hold of my hand. I have to bite back the tears I can feel burning up my throat. A few seconds later, Sonny takes stance beside me, dropping his arm around my shoulder.
Dex gets to his feet. “Take care of her, boys. And Ly…”
I know his eyes are on me. I can feel his gaze burning a hole in me.
“I know this stands for shit, and I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am.”
I hear his voice break, and I bite my lip.
“Love you, Ly. Always have, always will. And I’ll always be your big brother—whether you want me or not.”
I haven’t seen Dex since.
Cale catches my eye, and he mouths, You okay?
Fine, I mouth back before giving him my best smile.
His eyes narrow on me. He’s unconvinced. I look away.
Cale knows me better than anyone, and he knows when I’m not okay. I’m just not looking forward to telling him that Dex is here in LA. He won’t take it well.
I’m just glad that we’re getting out of here in a week to go on tour.
Gray’s voice comes into my ear this time. “When you’re ready, Lyla, we’ll start.”
I readjust my headphones, take a deep breath, and shake out my hands. “I’m ready.”
I step up to the mic, my lips hovering over the warm cushion. Shutting my eyes, I do what Zane said. I draw up all my emotions, the ones that are bothering the crap out of me today, and I channel them into my song.
Singing is the only thing that makes sense to me. It’s my safe place. Nothing and no one can hurt me when I’m in that moment, singing the heart out of a song.
The music I’m all too familiar with comes into my ears, the delicious sound vibrating through my body, taking over my mind.
Parting my dry lips, I lick them and then ease out the first line of the song. I sing until my voice is climbing, hitting its high, and then I belt out the words until I’m wrung dry on the very last line.
Song done, I open my eyes.
Zane can’t have any complaints with that. It was flawless.
I pull the headphones off and step around the mic, expecting to see a full booth, but the only person I find in there is Gray.
Where is everyone?
I press the intercom button. “Where is everyone?”
Gray leans into the mic. “Conference room. Zane said you’re to go there the second you’re done.”
My stomach tanks.
Did he hate it? Jesus, I hate the nerves that come with trying to please studio executives.
“Did he say why?”
“Nope. He took a call and sounded all pissed off. Then, he told the guys to go with him to the conference room, and you were to follow straight after you finished.”
Feeling confused, I say, “Okay.”
“You did great by the way,” Gray says. “Perfect. I can lay the track with that, no problem. Come back later, and I’ll have it layered, so you can have a listen.”
“Thanks, Gray. Catch you later.” I let myself out of the sound booth before crossing the studio and going out the door.
I walk the short distance down the hall to the conference room. Three heads lift when I open the door. The look on their faces isn’t great, so I’m guessing whatever it is, they already know.
Zane is standing by the window. His face is devoid of emotion, like always, and his arms are folded across his chest.
His tense stance has me instantly worried.
“Everything okay?” I try to keep the nerves out of my voice. I pull out the chair next to Sonny and take a seat.
“Dina broke her leg this morning while skiing.” Zane straightens up and strides toward the table where we’re all seated. “I mean, seriously, who the fuck skis nowadays?” he mutters as he yanks a chair out and sits down.
I would actually laugh at his comment if the bottom hadn’t just fallen out of my world.
Dina is our manager. She was going to come on tour with us.
I have dreamed about this tour happening ever since I picked up my first guitar.
I know TMS Records policy—no tour manager, no tour.
They don’t let their acts go out with support, which makes total sense.
A new band on the road with no support is not a good idea with the amount of sharks in this industry.
I swallow down the house-sized brick in my throat. Dumb question, but I have to ask, “So, Dina won’t be coming on tour with us?”
Zane drums his fingers on the table. “No. She ruptured her anterior cruciate ligament. She’ll be having surgery in the next few days.”
“And we can’t go on tour without a road manager,” Cale says, looking at me.
He knows the house rules as well as I do. This is as important to him as it is to me. Important to us all.
I swallow down. “Okay, so what’s going to happen then?” I try to keep my voice steady, but it wavers slightly.
Don’t postpone the tour. Please don’t postpone the tour.
“The tour will still happen. Jake is currently trying to find a replacement manager to go on tour with you.”
Jake Wethers, owner of TMS Records and lead singer of the biggest band in the world, The Mighty Storm.
With relief, I exhale the breath I was holding.
But I come up short again when Van asks, “Yeah, but will you be able to get someone on such short notice?”
Shit. I didn’t even think of that. We are supposed to leave on tour in a week.
One week to find a good tour manager. I don’t feel good about those chances. Most tour managers, especially the good ones, will already be booked up.
Zane’s eyes dart to Van, narrowing. “We’ll get someone.” His tone is harsh. He stands. “I’ll be in touch soon.” Then, he strides out of the room.