“ContraBand!” Hollis called. He shook Miller’s hand, fist-bumped McAvoy and Vin, and then clapped me on the back. “Glad you showed.”
“Bet you are,” I muttered under my breath.
“Guys, this is Mia Lu. She’s a face I hope you’re going to get to know around here. She’s our PR rep from Pacific. She keeps your ass in line.”
Mia gave him a thin-lipped smile of disapproval. She didn’t exactly look like the kind of chick I’d expect to work PR for a record company. She clearly had a fucking stick up her ass. I wondered if she liked it up the ass. In my experience, the girls who pretended to be prudes were usually total fucking freaks.
“So nice to meet you boys. I truly hope once you’re a part of the Pacific team, you won’t need my assistance as much as Hollis insinuates.” Her forced smile turned into a flat-out glare before she disappeared.
What the fuck was that about?
And they were awfully fucking sure that we were going to sign with them. By looking at my bros’ eager faces, maybe they had a reason to be. I wasn’t even sure I could convince my bandmates to give this up.
But if I needed to, I’d make a fucking effort.
Hollis gestured for us to follow him, and then we entered The Drift’s room backstage. As the door opened, a cloud of smoke billowed out.
The first thought I had when I entered the room was, Ari was going to fucking kill me.
If she had been pissed about what the backstage looked like at the Poconos music festival with The Drift, she’d fucking blow a gasket here.
Half-naked groupies littered the room. If I squinted through the smoke-filled room, I even recognized some of them. Jaci and someone…Jennifer maybe, were two of the girls who had been at Donovan’s penthouse party where I’d decked him.
I picked out the other guys in the band in different stages of inebriation. Ridley had his head in his hands, looking as if he might puke. Nic and Joey were cutting cocaine into a straight line in front of a blonde who had her tits out. Trevor was making out with some chick against the back wall. The only person I didn’t see was Donovan.
Then, he walked in from a door across the room—shirtless and zipping his fucking jeans.
In that moment, all I could picture was Donovan getting anywhere near my girl. Anger boiled through me, and McAvoy and Miller grabbed me before I’d even realized I started storming across the room.
Hollis laughed like an idiot next to me. He’d known this was going to happen. I could see it on his face. I was really fucking glad I hadn’t told Ari that I was coming up here with the guys tonight. She would never have been okay with me walking into this kind of shitstorm. I couldn’t tell her until I had everything figured out.
“Why don’t you guys grab a beer and relax? The set starts soon for the opener, and Drift will have a short meet-and-greet. No rush,” Hollis said.
“Actually,” I snapped, taking point and ignoring Miller’s exasperation, “I’d like to get this shit over with, Hollis. You dragged us out here. Let’s fucking talk.”
Hollis had a moment of anger blaze in his eyes before attempting to smother the initial reaction. It worked about as well as cheap cologne covering the smell of a men’s locker room.
“We can stay and have a beer first,” Miller said. “Right, guys?”
“You know I’m fucking down!” Vin said.
“No. McDermott is right,” Donovan chimed from across the room. He still hadn’t bothered with a shirt. “You should finish your business here and then get the fuck out.”
A chorus of laughter followed his outburst, and Miller tightened his grip on my arm. It was a silent plea to not fuck this up.
“With pleasure,” I growled.
“Now, now,” Hollis said. “We’re all adults here.” He sounded like a condescending parent. “If this all works out, then you guys will be working together.”
Donovan let out a short laugh that sounded more like a bark. “You’re going to need to fucking pay me more for that, Hollis.”
“You’ll get every penny you earned and not one more than that. Now, go put on a fucking shirt and meet your fans who paid to see you.”
As Donovan turned around, grumbling about not being able to find his shirt, Hollis directed us out of the room.
He led the guys into another room down the hallway, but then he pulled me aside. He spoke low so only I could hear, “Look, whatever went down between you and Donovan is in the past. This animosity needs to end. I believe in ContraBand, Grant. I want you in the studio. I want to release an album. I want you on the road with them. I want you headlining in the future. Work with him, and make everyone’s lives easier.”
I was momentarily shocked by his candid behavior, but then reality crept back in. Hollis would use anything and everything he could to get what he wanted. The truth was, he didn’t know what the fuck had gone down between Donovan and me. He was trying to get me to spill by offering me everything he thought I fucking wanted.
I shrugged away from him. He would have to try better than that. I gave him credit for realizing I was going to be the hardest sell but not that much credit.
“Let’s get this over with,” I grumbled.
Hollis grabbed my leather jacket and pulled me in close again. “I don’t fucking get you. When we first met, I thought I’d found exactly what I was looking for—the right band, the right sound, the right vibe. I’d thought Frank Boseley had been an idiot for passing on the whole group and just going for you because I saw it from the beginning. You only shine amid your guys. I get it. I know someone just fucking like that. His name is Donovan Jenkins, and he’s about to play for a sold-out show in New York City. His album debuted in the Top Ten of the Billboard charts. So, what the fuck is your problem? Don’t you fucking want that?”
“Yeah, man, I want that,” I told him without hesitation.
I fucking hated the dude, but maybe Hollis actually did understand. The only problem was, he didn’t get what Ari meant to me one bit.
“But if you ever interfere with my girl again, I’ll fucking end you,” I growled.
Hollis stuck his hand out. “Deal.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t want to see The Drift.”
Translation: I don’t want to get anywhere near Donovan Jenkins or that fucking creep Hollis Tift.
“You don’t like them? I thought every girl liked them with that one song playing on repeat on the radio,” Henry said.