Chapter Ten
If Skye thought Remi was going to just accept her little it’s not my fault speech, she was crazy.
The whole thing about the bargain breaking was obviously just a lie to cover up the fact that Skye had continued to mess with him even after he agreed to sell his soul.
She was enjoying watching his life fall apart, so he couldn’t believe a single thing that came out of her mouth.
No matter how plush and sexy that mouth happened to be.
Maybe especially because he couldn’t control his fucking dick around her. Made him fucking stupid.
Like when he agreed to let Skye move in. It’s for the bargain, she’d said. And he figured it’d be easier to keep an eye on her if she lived with them anyway.
What should have been two weeks of getting fucked up and having a good time in the LA house the label had set them up in turned into a minefield.
He was hyperfocused on her, on everything she did, trying to catch her doing something to fuck up their tour or their lives.
Then he’d be able to prove to his bandmates that she was bad news, but everywhere he turned, Skye was integrating herself further into his life, winning over his bandmates, making herself indispensable.
He couldn’t escape her. She was in the kitchen, laughing at Ollie’s deadpan humor as she made coffee for everyone.
She was in the home office with West, going over tour specifics.
She was in the living room, getting high and playing video games with Liam.
Using her demoness wiles to make everyone fall for her innocent act. It infuriated him.
Remi rolled out of his big, fancy bed at noon and walked into the closet, which was only about ten percent full, and pulled on a shirt. He looked in the mirror and then tried on a different shirt, but it wasn’t right either.
He considered going into West’s room to steal some of his clothes.
He had the most style of all of them. Ollie usually wore the biggest t-shirts and pants he could find.
Liam oscillated between ratty, old sweaters he found at the thrift store or any shirt with sparkles on it.
Remi only looked halfway decent when he raided West’s closet, but he didn’t want to look like he was trying to look good.
Forty-five minutes later, he finally settled on a threadbare Nirvana t-shirt and had styled his hair in what appeared to be an effortless, messy look.
He used the hairspray that wouldn’t leave his hair crunchy, and then smudged some eyeliner on to make it look like he’d slept in it and it was just naturally imperfect.
His morning routine had been expanding. It was almost as long as it had been in high school now. He didn’t know where the new swell of insecurity came from.
Okay, he did know. He hadn’t been on stage since the performance at the Whisky. He wasn’t himself if he wasn’t performing.
Off stage, Remi was just a penniless fuck-up who barely graduated high school and a disappointment to his entire family. He was a low-life deadbeat who had gotten fired from every job he ever had.
On stage, Remi was a rock star. He gave the crowd exactly what they wanted and then some. Music was his only escape from his own inferiority. It was the only thing he excelled at.
It’d been that way since the very beginning, when he and West would sit on his bedroom floor, strumming out new songs, tweaking lyrics that were scribbled on a piece of paper.
Remi and West could make words into magic. The alchemical process of taking painful feelings—rejection and grief and even unsatisfiable horniness—and turning them into lyrics and music that transmuted and transformed all of their lives.
When Remi was writing music, playing, and performing—he wasn’t Remi Golding, penniless fuck-up. He wasn’t Remi at all. He was one part of Tilted Haze. A sliver of something that was more than the sum of his parts.
He needed to get back to that. He needed to be on a stage. He needed something—anything—to get his mind off her.
It wasn’t his fault that he was attuned to Skye. She’d used her weird demoness pheromones on him. She’d conditioned his dick to respond to her.
He just needed to get on tour. Needed to be on a stage and everything would be okay again.
Remi followed the sound of his bandmates out to the pool. The house that their label had let them stay in was absolutely insane. There were nine bedrooms, a movie theater, a bowling alley, and a pool with a waterfall. He should probably be soaking up the over-the-top luxury while he could.
He had sold his soul for this. He should try to enjoy it.
But it was a little hard when the woman he was trying to avoid was passing out mimosas to everyone gathered around the patio table. Remi opened the sliding glass door. The smell of chlorine stung him in the back of the throat as he walked out.
A burst of laughter came from his bandmates at something Skye had said. As she leaned over the table to hand Liam a drink, her ass stuck out, which was only covered by a tiny string bikini and see-through black wrap.
“Thanks, Skye. You’re the best,” Liam said. “Hey, man! You’re up. Come get a drink.”
Remi snapped his gaze away from Skye’s perfect ass as she turned around. Her lace choker caught his eye. The black diamond at the hollow of her throat glittered in the sunlight.
He had to use all his strength not to let his eyes stray farther down. She had a tight white t-shirt over her black string-bikini top. He wanted to see if her nipples were peeking through, but with warrior-like strength, he resisted her demon allure.
“Buttering everyone up?” Remi said under his breath.
Skye’s eyes cast downward, and she shrugged one shoulder as if he’d hurt her feelings. Her voice was tinny as she said, “I just thought I’d do something nice since it’s our last day here. Thought we’d all celebrate the beginning of the tour.”
Liam narrowed his eyes at Remi. “It is nice, Skye. Thank you.”
“Yeah, thanks, Skye,” Ollie said, mirroring Liam’s harsh stare.
Remi grunted and slumped into one of the chairs, squinting his eyes against the sun glistening off the pool.
“Oh! I made waffles too. Hold on,” Skye said, and she practically skipped back into the kitchen, her black wrap bouncing up and exposing the curve of her ass.
Liam leaned over and hit Remi upside the head. “What the fuck?”
Remi pushed Liam’s shoulder, and Liam pushed back. It was about to become a brawl—nothing unusual for Remi and Liam—but West grabbed Remi’s shoulder to stop him.
“Dude,” Ollie said. “You gotta let whatever grudge you have against Skye go. It’s killing the vibe, ya know what I mean? This is our first tour, and you’re making everything tense and awkward.”
“I don’t trust her,” Remi said. “I told you guys that.”
“Yeah,” West said. “But you haven’t told us why you don’t trust her.”
Remi was still having those sex dreams, but they felt different from before. He wasn’t lucid for them anymore. He wanted to think that Skye was coming into his dreams to fuck with him again, but he was pretty sure they were actual dreams from his mind. No demon magic needed.
Which was so much worse.
“It’s just a feeling, okay?” Remi said. “I can just tell when women are lying, manipulative—”
Liam punched his shoulder hard enough that Remi grabbed his arm. “Seriously?” Liam said. “Don’t even finish that sentence. Skye is great. She even scored us a little going-away present.” He leaned back and fished a baggie from his pocket, then waved a ball of white powder in the air.
“Wow,” Remi deadpanned. “So our band manager is okay with our drummer doing drugs the night before we go on tour? You’re right. What was I thinking? She’s not trying to sabotage us or anything.”
Liam sniffed. “I’m not going to do it tonight, but we have a few days off during the tour, and now we’ll have a little something to have fun with.”
“Rem, you’re just embarrassing yourself at this point,” Ollie said, shaking his head. “Skye is so nice to us. And she’s like a kick-ass manager.”
West leaned in. “Listen, I know we just randomly hired her on the spot, but she gave me references of other guys in the industry she’s worked with.”
Remi scoffed. Worked with? Meaning she stole their souls and screwed with them, and they just didn’t know it yet.
West continued, “I also double-checked all the dates and hotels she booked, all the details for the tour. She showed me her spreadsheets with exact mileage and per diems. The riders at each of the venues. She has contingency after contingency plan. Jim certainly didn’t have half of that, and Ollie checked our bank accounts and did the accounting on the books.
She isn’t stealing anything from us. She’s legit. ”
Remi heaved a weary sigh. West was right, of course.
Remi had also double-checked all of Skye’s work.
Another reason he hadn’t been enjoying his rich-and-famous lifestyle—he was still acting as band manager, just to make sure Skye wasn’t doing anything underhanded, that they weren’t getting tricked like they had with Jim.
Maybe the heat was getting to him. His underarms prickled with sweat, and he wondered if his hair was getting a greasy shine.
West shook his head. “You have to let this go. Whatever feeling you have about her… It’s not right this time. I know your mom—”
“What does my mom have to do with this?” Remi snapped.
West pressed his lips together. “Nothing. It just makes sense that you have a hard time trusting women after—”
Remi stood up, towered over West, and got in his face. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He grabbed a handful of West’s shirt to shake some sense into him. “Skye can’t be trusted with anything. She’s going to ruin the band. Fuck up the tour—”
Chairs scraped against the cement as Ollie and Liam jumped up and grabbed each of Remi’s arms.
“Remi!” Ollie said. “Let him go.”
Remi froze, stared at his fists bunching up West’s shirt. He stepped back, releasing his grip. What the hell was he doing? Lashing out at his best friend like that.