Preview of Wild Stars
Dare
I hate interviews.
I know, I know, no one really likes them, but I’ve never been good with a camera in my face asking me personal questions, despite the fact I perform for people all the time.
My manager, Penny, tells me I’ll get better with them over time, that I need to give myself the chance to “acclimate” to everything. That I need to be confident in my talent and myself.
But I find it hard to channel the visage of a successful, rich rockstar when I’m still living in a three-bedroom townhouse with my brother and bandmates, and living on ramen and cinnamon rolls. Not in a giant house that magazines do fucking spreads on, like literally any of my label mates, or like the owner of this damn Sylvestro mansion.
Thank God, this place will be lit soon enough, though, once I get enough liquor in my system.
If only they actually put a decent amount of alcohol in these fruity drinks they’re serving here. Fucking cheap ass motherfuckers.
Richie, my brother and bassist, takes a drag of his joint, the smoke blowing in my face.
I’ve had at least six drinks thus far, and I still feel like a ball of nerves.
I kind of wish Felix—aka the headliner of the Pillars of Rock tour—wasn’t such a grumpy Mcgrumpy-pants earlier when I tried to talk to him, but I guess I’d be pissed, too, if my drummer up and left right at the start of rehearsals.
Still, the guy could have been a little nicer. I brought him a drink as a peace offering!
“Can you even smoke that in here?” I ask, sipping my sugary drink.
Seriously, they could’ve added more tequila to this.
Richie shrugs as Ines mindlessly scrolls his phone while Spike keeps trying—and failing—to flirt with Jinger Holloway.
Seriously, dude, she’s not into you even a little bit. Way out of your league.
“No one’s said otherwise,” Richie replies, blowing a ring of smoke at me.
I wave through it. I’ve never been much into the whole smoking thing, mostly because I hate the smell of smoke, period.
Which is why I’d much rather down a good drink to relax my nerves, but this shit isn’t doing it.
I glance around, wondering if any of my label mates might have something with a little more punch to soothe my brain goblins, when Penny steps into my view.
“Don’t even think about it, Wylde,” she snaps, as if she can somehow read my mind.
“I wasn’t thinking...”
Richie lets out a laugh, and Penny rolls her eyes. “That’s obvious.”
I scowl as I drain my drink, glaring at her.
Like us, Penny is new blood for Casualty Records. But then again, I guess being the newest act signed to the label, it makes sense we don’t have a big shot manager yet, like Felix Hart does, or even Mateo and Hailee Starr. Hell, we’re practically one-hit wonders, and I’m dying to release our next song, Wild Star, but it’s not quite... there yet.
In fact, it’s barely there at all, if I’m being honest, which is why I’m so nervous. This tour is huge for us, but if we don’t come up with something soon...
Well, I don’t want to think about what could happen, not just to me, but to the rest of my bandmates, if we don’t knock our next release out of the park.
“All right, boys, it’s show time,” Penny states as she straightens my collar, wiping the corners of my mouth with her thumb like I’m a five-year-old.
I swat at her playfully, but she remains stoic and focused, like I’m giving a presidential speech instead of saying a few choice words about our tour and where everyone can buy tickets.
Her hazel eyes peer at me from over her oversized round glasses, and with her dark hair, thick with red streaks and feathers, she looks like a deranged librarian.
How the hell she ended up with a job managing Heart Killer is beyond me, but I’ll take her over pink-faced Lou any day.
At least she has good tits.
Richie puts out his joint in the nearest potted plant as Ines and Spike come to line up next to me. Penny gets us lined up and ready while we watch the press settle.
My nerves are frayed, and knowing I have to talk to people only makes me more anxious, but I don’t have time to focus on my flipping stomach, or my dry throat, not when the host announces my name.
Fuck me.