Chapter 35
RIO
The icy New York wind slams into me like a pissed-off ex, whipping my face the second we step outside from baggage claim.
Keith barrels out behind me as we watch our limousine approach the curb.
"New York, you beautiful bitch!" he bellows, diving into the limo's fridge for a beer before the door even swings shut.
Foam sprays as he pops it open. "God, I've missed this chaos. Vegas was a circus, but this? New York is home base."
Steven chuckles, sliding in after him. "You say that every damn time, man. Like clockwork."
"Yeah, well, this time it's gospel. After that Vegas madness? Feels like we just dodged a bullet and won the lottery."
I slide deeper into the leather seat, the engine's low growl vibrating through my bones.
That concert? We crushed it.
The audience was spellbound when I finally sang the song I wrote for Maddie. It nearly killed me to cave in like that.
But art is art, despite the fact I now hate the woman who inspired it.
"Tomorrow's the real show," I tell my band mates, staring out at the Manhattan skyscrapers clawing the gray sky. "Our one shot to be represented by the world's hottest label."
"Aw man, don't sound like such a fuckin' Donald downer," says Keith. "What's this 'one shot' bullshit? You heard Prince Michael. This meeting tomorrow at Midnight Records is not a freakin' formality. They're going to lay the contract in front of us and ask us to sign."
"Hold up, Keith," Steven says. “Rio’s right. Best not to jinx it. That Vegas gig got us the meeting. But nothing's certain."
"And no record company can be trusted," I add. No woman either, I think to myself.
Maddie's betrayal still gnaws at me, but I force it from my mind.
Fresh opportunities lay ahead.