Memphis
An especially high-strung Chandler paces the floor of his suite. Only this time his irritation isn’t directed at Josh.
“You were supposed to send Vic new songs over a month ago, Phoenix. What the fuck is taking you so long?”
If I had to guess, I’d say the fact they don’t exist.
The guys and I are trying to be patient with him—given he wrote our greatest hit that catapulted us to stardom and all—but that patience is wearing thin. If he doesn’t stop screwing around Vic is going to choose all the songs for our upcoming album himself. Again.
Our last album wasn’t terrible, but the four of us collectively agreed that it didn’t sound like us.
The only way to make sure that shit doesn’t happen again is to write our own songs and music.
Which is why I’ve been messing around on my guitar every night for the better part of a year, coming up with melodies and hooks.
Melodies and hooks that need some motherfucking words.
“It’s not that easy to come up with lyrics,” Phoenix argues. “Or the music to go with it.”
He’s right. It’s not.
However, he doesn’t have to come up with the latter because I’ve been busting my ass in hopes it will motivate him to bust his.
“I’ve been sending you music, dickhead.”
Five pairs of eyes turn to our lead singer, which only makes him even more flustered. “Goddamn you people. Get off my back. This band takes up every minute of my fucking day. I barely have time to take a crap, let alone write.”
That’s a big steaming load of bullshit.
I work the same schedule he does, and I still wrote tabs.
Why the fuck hasn’t he?
That nagging suspicion—the one I always brush off because he would have told us—rears its head once again.
I can’t help but notice something’s off whenever he reads.
At first, I thought it was bad eyesight, or that he was a slower reader, but then I noticed other things.
Like how he always uses speech-to-text and text-to-speech on his phone.
Or how Storm will eventually lean over and whisper something that seems to magically fix Phoenix’s issue.
However, what I don’t understand is why he won’t inform the rest of us. It’s nothing to be ashamed of and I’d be more than happy to help out.
Then again, Phoenix has an ego the size of Texas.
Truth be told, it’s probably the only thing all four of us have in common other than our love of music.
“You wrote a chart-topping hit and now you can’t even string two sentences together,” Chandler booms, bringing me out of my thoughts and briefly rousing Josh who’s been nodding off on the recliner ever since the meeting started.
I open my mouth to tell Chandler to chill the fuck out, but Sky beats me to it. “Give him a break. Last I checked, art has no timeline, and you can’t dictate genius. Putting even more pressure on him isn’t going to get you a song any faster.”
Phoenix flashes her a grateful smile.
Chandler, however, resembles a puppy with his tail between his legs.
“You’re right.” The tips of his ears turn bright pink. “The added stress certainly won’t help matters.”
I have to bite my knuckle to keep from laughing. The fucker is blushing so hard he looks like he spent a week in the Caribbean without sunscreen.
Sky has someone by the balls all right, but it’s not me.
As if sensing my thoughts, our eyes lock from across the room. I see a trace of a sly little grin on her face. The girl can feign naivety all she wants, but she’s fully aware of the hold she has on our manager. And she’s not afraid to use it to her—and our—advantage when necessary.
I didn’t think it was possible, but she just became even sexier.
Visions of eating her sweet pussy from behind while her mouth is stuffed with my dick flash through my mind.
Until Chandler’s grating voice interrupts. “Now that that’s settled, let’s move on to issue number two.” He throws a file at Phoenix. A piece of paper flies out, landing on his shoe. “One of your high school skanks did a tell-all interview.”
Unbothered by this news, Phoenix picks up the paper. “Which one?”
Chandler waves a hand. “Sasha something.”
“Hey,” Storm chimes in, appearing far more outraged than his best friend. “That was my skank, too.”
Not something to brag about, bro.
Phoenix squints at the printout of the online article. I can tell he’s struggling to read it.
Doing him a solid, I snatch it from him. “Give me that.” Clearing my throat, I read the headline out loud. “High School Girlfriend Had Wild Threesome with Phoenix Walker and Teacher in Exchange For A’s.”
“That’s bullshit,” Phoenix shouts. “I never got A’s.”
Beside him, Storm snorts. “Can confirm.”
Sky’s stare locks with mine for a second time. “Perhaps you should have fucked the principal instead.”
Brat.
Rubbing my chin, I look her up and down, mentally undressing her while conjuring up all the spots my tongue is going to encounter later.
I was planning on going easy on her tonight—because as much as I enjoy hearing her beg for my cock, my prolonged teasing tortures us both.
However, that comment is going to cost her.
“An older woman can teach you lots of things other women will benefit from.”
A mixture of jealousy and hunger illuminates her pretty face.
Confident I’ve won this round, I divert my attention elsewhere…but not before giving her my own sly smirk.
Thankfully, the meeting ends shortly after. We all file out of the room, gearing up to get ready for tonight’s show.
“Next time I’m bringing marshmallows,” Storm mutters after everyone else clears out.
“Why?”
Tongue in cheek, he waggles his eyebrows. “The flames are getting hot.”