Chapter 14
14
LOGAN
W e return to the hotel shortly after one in the morning. There’s nothing better than the hours after a show, basking in the love and adoration of our biggest fans. People who would happily wait in a long line just to shake your hand and tell you how much your music has changed them for the better.
Gives the ego a nice long stroke as well.
On any other night, I would have lingered in that space as long as possible, but tonight is different.
Tonight, I kissed Katrina Benton.
My god, what a feeling. To finally— finally —be close enough to smell her perfume. To press my lips against her so hard I see stars. To hear her whimper in pleasure. To taste her tongue as it danced with mine.
But I couldn’t stay. Well, I could have. I definitely could have. But it wouldn’t have been right, knowing what I know. Knowing that there’s a possibility she’d be with me while thinking about him .
Jonah, you stupid bastard.
What kind of man has a kiss like that and walks away? Well, me. I guess. I’m that man. But unlike Mr. Billionaire, I fully intend to go back.
When she’s ready.
“You look sleepy, boss,” Tesla says, chuckling beside me on the elevator to the 18th floor.
I glance at her other shoulder, noting Goldie’s head hanging limply on it, her eyes barely open. “Not just me, it seems.”
“Sleepy,” Goldie says, her mouth stretching into a wide yawn.
Tesla kisses her forehead and smiles. “Almost to bed, baby girl.”
“Bed?” Goldie repeats, smiling.
I laugh softly. “Rest up the next few days,” I say, slipping on my authority voice. “That’s an order.”
“Boo-hiss,” Goldie says, barely lifting her head.
“I’ve got us booked for a spa day tomorrow,” Tesla assures me. “Rest and relaxation shall be had.”
“Good,” I say.
“How about you? You wanna join us?” She smirks. “Or do you have something else in mind to help you release some tension?”
The elevator stops and I fire her a playful glare as the doors slide open. “Goodnight, ladies,” I say as I step off.
“All right,” Tesla says, slowed down by Goldie. “But tomorrow morning, you have to tell me everything.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do,” she sings, sugary sweet.
Yes. I’m afraid I do.
But I won’t give in until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. Make her squirm a little.
I unlock the door and step into my suite. After a few steps, I pause, the corner lamp glowing.
I didn’t leave that on. Not too unusual, this being a hotel room after all. A housekeeper must have left it on.
But they definitely didn’t leave the man sitting in the armchair beside it.
“Hello, Logan,” he says. “It’s been a while.”
I blink twice.
Looks like Paul Monroe, the disgraced former head of Midnite Music.
Sounds like Paul Monroe, the rejected almost-head of Sugar Sound.
But in all the time I’ve known the man, I’ve never known him to have a beard. Or wear a hoodie. Or tennis shoes.
“Monroe,” I saying, stopping the greeting there as I look him over.
“Oh.” Monroe gestures at his clothes. “Yeah. My wardrobe is, unfortunately, a bit more casual these days. Since the missus cleaned me out and all.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I say, not really sorry. “What are you doing here?”
He rises off the chair. “You don’t call. You don’t text. I was worried sick about you! And those adorable girls.”
“I’m fine. They’re fine. Get out.”
Monroe scoffs, not budging from his spot as he curls his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Now, Logan,” he says. “Let’s not neglect our manners here.”
“Manners?”
“Please. Thank you. Respecting your elders. That kind of thing.”
I hum, unamused. “You expect me to respect you after what you put us through this summer?”
“Oh, please . Don’t be so dramatic. What I put you through? What I did was put your band on the map! Without me, you’d still be strumming your guitar for tips in Central Park. And I’d keep that slander behind your teeth if I were you. I’m in no mood for another lawsuit, but I’ve got nothing but free time. I’ll fit you in.”
“What do you want?” I ask again. “How did you even get in here?”
“I’m cash-strapped. Not broke.” He snorts as he turns to lean against the table by the window currently covered in yellow sticky notes and various colored pens. “And I came here to find out the status of our mission.”
“What mission?”
Monroe blinks twice at me as if the answer were obvious. “Taking down Criminal Records, of course.”
I shake my head. “No, that’s done. We’re done. I’m not working with you anymore.”
He takes a deep breath, letting it linger for as long as possible. “Yes. You’re right. You don’t work with me. You work for me. And you and I have unfinished business, Logan.”
“What business? You’re done, Monroe. No new executive contract. No fancy office in New York City. Taking down Criminal Records won’t help you get that back.”
“No, it won’t,” he agrees. “It’ll make me feel a lot better, though.”
“Well, whatever unfinished business you have is with them. Not me.”
Monroe chuckles. “You think shitty pop music is my business? No, my business is information.”
“That doesn’t concern me.” I point at the door. “Get out.”
“Oh, I think it should,” he says, ignoring my outstretched hand. “I think it should concern you very much. Dirt is dirt no matter where you track it in from. Las Vegas. New York.” He smiles. “Or how about... Atlanta?”
I lower my hand to my side.
“Or maybe you’re right,” he continues. “Maybe my business isn’t with you at all. Maybe it’s with Ms. Tesla Kyle down the hall. Or should I call her by her real name? Ms. Silvia Hampton?”
I stand straight up. “You don’t want to threaten her,” I say, my voice laced in warning.
“You’re right. I don’t.” Monroe turns up his hands. “I don’t want to do any of this, but you’re leaving me no choice here. I want nothing more than to forget the details of Tesla’s unsavory misdeeds, but...”
He releases a heavy sigh, leaving the rest up to me.
I bite down hard. “What do you want?”
“I want you to finish what we started. Destroy Criminal Records.”
“Why?” I ask, Katrina’s taste still lingering on my tongue. “Sugar Sound is done with you. It won’t get you your contract back.”
“This has nothing to do with Sugar Sound. Or Midnite Music,” Monroe says, his voice darker now. More dangerous. “This is personal . Knox Benton and his band of morons ruined my life. I want to return the favor. I want them done, Logan. Gone. Broken beyond repair. And I want it done before the Battle of the Bands.”
“No,” I say.
Monroe tips to the side in surprise. “No? I thought you’d be all for it. I mean, if Criminal Records doesn’t compete, then you win by default.”
“That’s no victory.”
He rolls his eyes. “This isn’t the Colosseum in Rome, kid. It’s a music competition in Las Vegas, for fuck’s sake. Spare me the melodrama.”
“I could say the same to you. Even if I agreed to this, the Battle of the Bands is less than two weeks away. How would I even break them up before then?”
“You know, I wondered the same thing,” he says as he withdraws his phone from his pocket. “But then, earlier tonight, I saw this...”
He turns his phone horizontally and shows me the screen. A video plays, taken from the back of the crowd at tonight’s show at the Sin and Sand. Me. Goldie. Tesla.
And Katrina.
My heart stills as our music blares from the speakers. Our voices spin together, effortlessly. Her smile, brilliant as she gazes at me.
“You seem awfully tight with little Katrina nowadays,” Monroe muses as he flips the phone back around to take a peek at it himself.
“No, I’m not,” I say, my voice shaking with rage.
“You are starting now.”
I detect the threat, the less than subtle hint hidden in the words. “No,” I say.
“Yes,” he says. “Handsome rockstar like you. I’m sure you can figure out some way of... getting under one of those adorable sundresses she loves so much. Can’t imagine big brother would be okay with that. Would he, Romeo?”
“No,” I say again. “I won’t do it. Find someone else.”
Monroe pauses, his face sinking with disappointment. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Too bad.” He puts his phone away and stands up. “In that case, I’ll just have to slide into the DMs of Atlanta’s district attorney. I’m sure they’d love to know where they can find?—”
“Okay.” I hold up a hand and sigh, his words threatening to unravel me. “I’ll do whatever you want. Please, just...” I drop my hand down, hating this. “Leave Tesla alone. Please.”
Monroe stares for a long moment, his expression hard and threatening until he sparks a smile. “That’s the spirit!” he says, laughing as he walks toward me. “You’re a real team player, Logan. Always liked that about you.”
He reaches out, slapping the side of my neck twice with his palm, and it takes all my control to keep my fists at my sides.
“We’ll talk soon,” he says. “You have my number. I expect updates!”
I don’t say a word.
I stand still, waiting as he walks off, the door opening and closing with his happy, victorious strides.
Destroy Criminal Records.
Destroy Katrina.
“Fuck,” I say through my teeth, wanting to run up to the roof and scream it, too.