Chapter 2
No one moved and no one spoke. All eyes were on the famous bass guitarist. The tension in the room flourished, tasting bitter on my tongue. He seemed immune to it, his expression unintimidated by the hostile energy. Always cool, always unflappable.
And it pissed me off.
He was the epitome of a rockstar god. Probably most of the reason The Velvet Kings were so popular. Women fell to their knees when he entered a room or walked onto the stage, and men bowed to him as if he were a legend.
Drix Decker was over 6’3”
with a ripped body. His broad shoulders had my 5’4”
size self feeling like a flea next to a lion. Dark brown hair hung to his shoulder on one side and shaved on the other. A nose and eyebrow ring adorned his face, and tattoos went up his neck and covered his torso, arms, and hands. His amber eyes always felt as if they were hunting, tearing into your flesh. The man was drop-dead gorgeous and held such brutal, raw energy it caused fluttering in my chest.
I loathed him for causing that sensation, especially as my irrational mind told me otherwise.
Cognac-colored eyes slid around the room, stopping on me. My teeth gritted. His attention was overwhelming, and he oozed so much confidence that it was like staring at the sun.
“I assume everyone knows everyone?”
Emmit nodded at all of us. “We can jump straight into practice?”
“No.”
I heard the word cut up my throat, my legs pushing me up, my head shaking.
A smirk twisted Drix’s mouth, but it was anything but friendly. As if he expected my refusal. Was hoping for it.
“Echo, we’ve been over this,”
Emmit conveyed to me.
“No,”
I repeated fervently. “Anyone but him.”
Drix’s smirk grew, his arms folding over his chest like a challenge.
“I’m with Echo,”
Ames huffed, glowering at Emmit.
“Me too.”
Tobias and Geo nodded.
“Guess what?”
Emmit’s face reddened with frustration. “I don’t give a fuck! I’m done dancing around this. You need a new bass guitarist. He is one of the best. There is no more discussion.”
“No more discussion? This is my band!”
Ames’s timbre pulsed off the walls.
“So you’re going to let your ego stop the band from making it?”
Emmit’s tone matched his.
“Why are you here?”
Ames stepped around to call out Drix. “Why aren’t you with your own band? You can’t play both.”
“He won’t be playing bo?—”
“I quit.”
Drix cut off Emmit, sending a rippling wave of confusion through our group.
“Quit?”
Geo stepped away from his keyboard. “You weren’t even hired, and you already quit?”
“No. I quit The Velvet Kings.”
The rumble of Drix’s voice wrapped around my vertebrae, feeling it from across the room.
My head reared back in shock. “What?”
He quit the biggest rock band in America? Why? They had sellout concerts and songs topping the charts. None of this made sense.
“Why?”
I regripped my sticks, which gave me a sense of security. The wood was damp and heavy in my grasp, my knuckles clenching them tightly.
His head tilted, and his eyes slid back to mine slowly, zeroing in on me as if I were prey,. It felt like a pulse against my skin. “Not important.”
He spoke clear and precise.
“Not important?”
Tobias laughed. “You walk out on the number one band and come play with your competitors?”
“Funny.”
Drix stayed facing me but let his gaze jump to Tobias. “I never thought of you as competition.”
Holy fuck. He didn’t just say that. Our group’s shoulders rose in sync, a snake about to strike.
“Whoa.”
Emmit stood between us and Drix, his 5’11 frame comical-looking as he guarded the beast of a man behind him. “Enough.”
Emmit only gave us his “threatening”
look when he was about a hair away from ripping up our contract. It would never happen, but he threatened to daily when Ames was being pig-headed and running on ego. “I’ve had enough of the whining. Drix is no longer with The Velvet Kings, which is all that’s important right now. Especially when you’re supposed to be going on tour. You are opening in New York to thousands of people in a week.”
“Exactly! He doesn’t know our playlist. He can’t learn the songs in time. We are better off just keeping it us,”
Ames interjected.
“Better off?”
Drix scoffed. “I heard you guys. You are not better off.”
“Excuse me?”
Ames marched up to Drix, chest all puffed up. Ames was at least 6 feet tall, but his thin body seemed insignificant next to the bass guitarist.
Drix’s arms stayed across his chest as he leaned into Ames, his expression empty. But I could see fire glint behind his eyes.
“You’re dropping notes, and the entire band is out of sync.”
His cognac eyes flashed to me before jumping back to our lead singer. “And without a bass guitarist, your music lacks any depth. You sound like shit, Isley, and you know it.”
“Fuck you!”
Ames lurched for him, with Emmit in between, while Tobias grabbed for Ames, pulling him back. “Get the hell out of here.”
“You know, I think I will.”
Drix dropped his arms, curving for the door. “I want to be in a band who wants to be the best.”
“Stop!”
Emmit’s arms went up in the air, pointing to Drix. “You are not going anywhere.”
His finger slid to Ames. “And you need to get your head out of your ass. I am trying to help you. I am trying to give this band a sellout tour, which you currently do not have. So, all of you need to check your egos and realize this is the best for the band. You have a contract and a record label who want to see results, not hear you throwing tantrums.”
He swung back to Drix. “Grab your guitar, you are next to Echo.”
My mouth parted in horror, knowing Emmit was right. But I still couldn’t get over the thought that this was happening, and the one person I fucking hated more than anyone was taking Ziggy’s spot. I wondered if he even remembered what he did to me. Or cared about anything at all. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who thought much outside himself.
“But—”
Ames started.
“Hear what he can do, Ames,”
Emmit warned. “He knows his shit.”
Tobias was the first to hook back up his guitar, giving in to Emmit, causing Geo to head to his keyboard.
Ames huffed and sighed, his jaw still tight with anger, but he moved to the microphone.
“Remember what we talked about?”
Emmit turned to Drix privately, though I could still understand. “Your position here? What you need to do?”
“Yeah.”
Drix made a point of fully facing me before responding. He pulled the strap over his head, his stare heavy on me, cutting under my skin. “I’m Echo’s babysitter.”
Aghast, I blinked at him, my knuckles cracking against my sticks.
“Let’s start with Scotch Tape Hole.”
Emmit clapped his hands together, heading to the front of the stage as Drix strolled up to the exact spot Ziggy had stood for so long, plugging into the output jack. His long fingers fiddled and tightened the tuning pegs on his guitar, his head cocking to me.
“Better sit down, Echo.”
He nodded at my stool, a smirk upping the side of his mouth in his notorious bad-boy expression. “Looks as though you and me are going to be working close together.”
He lifted his hands from the guitar and signed in perfect ASL,
“Looks like I’m your new ears, drummer girl.”