“She fucked up my schedule.” Burt’s voice was casual, arrogant. “What am I going to do? Congratulate her?”
“You can be a real asshole when you want to be. It’s why no one wants to work with you.”
Burt gave a sharp grin. “You work with me.”
Lucas heaved an annoyed sigh and plopped down into the chair across from Burt’s desk, making himself at home. “Only because the rest of the band loves you. Otherwise, I’d walk and never look back.”
“I never claimed to be a saint,” Burt shrugged as if he didn’t care whose ego he plowed down on the way to keeping his own at the top, but Lucas wasn’t phased.
Lucas slunk a bit in his chair and spread his legs wide, feet firmly on the floor. Folding his hands over his abdomen, he gave Burt a hard stare. “What’s her name?”
“The intern?”
“Yes, the intern.”
Burt made a face. “Anna... Ashley. Maybe, Abigail. That sounds right.”
“You should do a better job of knowing the names of the people you let deal with your personal business.”
Burt huffed and sat down in his roller chair. “I don’t need advice, Lucas. I suppose you want her number?”
He scoffed. Getting numbers was never a problem. He preferred to do it the old-fashioned way. He’d get her number himself.
“I don’t need your help.”
Burt narrowed his eyes. “What brings you by, Luke?”
He had issues with their upcoming studio schedule. Things weren’t running as smoothly as they should be, and he despised things being out of order. Talk about a fucked-up schedule! Burt had managed to pack the bands so full; they didn’t know which end was up. He loved to be busy but hated feeling like he had no control. He wanted control, especially over what he was doing and when.
He gave Burt an earful, and just as he expected, Burt promised to adjust Infinity Prism’s upcoming studio and public relations obligations. Lucas spoke, and people listened. Done deal. He left the office, fingers shoved in his pockets as he strode down the hallway, noticing how the employees in their cubicles watched him as he passed. He was used to the attention, and he enjoyed it, but his life hadn’t always been that way.
There was a lot that Burt, and most of his band members, didn’t know about him. If the people staring at him only knew what kind of disastrous past he had and how he had been through hell and back, would they still be quick to idolize him? He didn’t care. He’d worked damn hard to earn the attention and fame. But he still had a lot of demons chasing him around in the dark.
Lucas lived one day at a time. He lived in the moment. It was an odd way for a man like him to take life, but it was what it was. He’d spent too many days always wishing for the next and never having a reason to fully live in the moment he was in. All that changed when Infinity Prism took off, became popular and attracted hordes of fans. Now he had no reason not to enjoy every second.
Speaking of enjoying himself, he’d felt a definite heat in his blood when he’d locked eyes with the brunette intern. Her eyes were wide and green, and she’d tried to hide the shock at seeing him but failed miserably. For the first time in a long time, he’d enjoyed her obvious appreciation. He needed one more look into those beautiful eyes.
Knock it off, he told himself. That girl was still in college, probably much younger than his twenty-seven years. He was never opposed to a hot hook-up, but not with her. Something about her said, ‘off limits.’ Burt would kill him. It was frowned upon for the members of the band to associate with interns. It was just bad for business, and Lucas understood that.
Didn’t mean he’d listen. He was good at talking himself out of things. Unless he wanted something so badly, it wasn’t worth the internal conversation.
He stepped into his private car with a driver that had been idling in the loading zone on the street.
“Hey Mike,” Lucas greeted to his driver and security guard. Mike was loyal, and Lucas thought of him as an uncle.
“That was a long enough meeting, boss,” Mike said with a chuckle, giving Lucas a hard time.
Lucas shrugged. For a professional driver, Mike hated to sit around, waiting. “I’ll make it longer next time, just for you.”
“Where too next, boss?”
Lucas strapped on his seatbelt. “I have to meet the other guys at The Firehouse,” he said. “That’s where our show is tonight.
“Ah,” Mike nodded and then merged into traffic without using his blinker. Mike liked to joke and tell everybody that he lived on the edge. “I take it you guys are going to be promoting some new songs from the new album dropping soon?”
Lucas couldn’t help but notice how his driver had aged over the past few years. He’d been growing his white beard out, looking more badass biker than Santa Clause. Deep wrinkles marked the sides of his eyes and around his mouth. The black suit and shiny shoes didn’t hide the ex-MMA fighter that seeped through every available spot of Mike’s persona.
“Yeah,” Lucas nodded. “We still have some studio time. The album isn’t quite finished, but we just want to give the die-hard fans a dose of what’s to come.”
“I hear that,” Mike turned onto the side street where he would drop Lucas off in the back of the venue.
Once he placed the car in park, he gave Lucas a curious glance. “Where is your guitar?”
“Inside,” Lucas said and pointed to the back entrance to The Firehouse. “I asked Asher to bring it for me because I had to meet with Burt beforehand.”
“Mike made a tsking sound and shook his head. “That guy is more tightly wound than a grandfather clock.”
Lucas gave Mike a brotherly handshake. “No shit.”
He climbed out of the passenger seat. Lucas didn’t feel like he needed to be that snooty type of celebrity. It wasn’t necessary to act like a total jerk, although he did abuse his power when it came to getting a reservation at a booked restaurant or scoring courtside seats to an NBA game or something.
In Lucas’ mind, that wasn’t the same thing as treating another person like shit. He had hit rock bottom on a number of occasions, and he wasn’t about to treat his staff like they were beneath him. He knew that if he did act like a prick, then they would leave him. He didn’t want to take a chance on that, because, Burt aside, the band was lucky to have a great staff working for them.
“I’ll call you when I need to get picked up,” Lucas said. He could have driven himself, but he had temperamental road rage. He would rather someone else battle the idiots of the city than endure that torture himself.
Mike gave him a diplomatic nod. “Sure thing, boss.”
Lucas walked into the backstage area of the venue. “Hey man,” he said and approached Trevor Jameson, the lead singer and fellow guitarist of their band.
“What’s happening?” Trevor gave him a fond slap on the back.
“Nothing much,” Lucas said and grabbed his guitar out of its case.
It was a sleek, cherry red Gibson that he’d owned since he first started in the band. It was his prized possession. He trusted very few people to handle it. Even when they traveled to gigs internationally, he would personally carry it with him. It had Lars Ulrich from Metallica’s signature on it, back in the day when Infinity Prism was first starting out and had opened a few shows for the mega superstar band.
Now, Infinity Prism had paved the way for their own successes. They had acquired quite a following of loyal fans in their own right, and Logan would be lying if he said that he didn’t get off on the attention.
“I had a meeting with Burt right before I came here,” Lucas said.
Trevor’s eyebrows shot up. “How did that go?” Everyone knew Burt’s abrasive personality.
“As expected,” Lucas said but kept the part about running into the intern to himself. He still wasn’t sure how to process his interest in her, but he figured if he ran into her again, he’d see if it happened again. If she was interested in him, too—he hadn’t met a woman yet who wasn’t—it mi
ght be fun to test out their attraction somewhere private.
“Hey,” Asher said and waltzed into the room.
Lucas gave him a narrow side-eye. “You’re lucky my guitar is in one piece.”
“You’re welcome,” Asher replied, nonplussed. He was the keyboardist for the band. He’d already been on stage, getting things set up just the way he wanted. Everything needed to be perfect. They had a hoard of fans to impress.
Chicago always had naturally enthusiastic crowds, but it could just be from the simple fact that Infinity Prism was Chicago-born. Since they were a home-grown band, they were bound to get more positive attention because the people could relate to them on a better level.
Lucas had been born and raised in Chicago and had spent several years on the streets. Sometimes, when he drove past the places where he and his deadbeat friends used to hang out, it gave him chills of nostalgia. He shuddered at the memories. He had risen from the ashes, and nothing in the world could come in between him and his dreams ever again.
He was still riding high, knowing their next studio album was set to release soon. He and his band members had worked harder than ever with some of the best producers in the industry, to outdo their last album. Their fans deserved the best.
“This shit is sold out tonight,” Asher mused. “Sold out in ten minutes.”
“Good.” Lucas didn’t expect anything less, not considering how hard they’d worked. But it still filled him with pride that they were doing so well. The thrill was hard to describe. It was better than any high he had achieved on any drug he had ever taken.
That was all behind him now. The past was the past as far as he was concerned.
He couldn’t wait to promote their new music. He was proud of the blood, sweat, and tears they had put into creating the most relatable lyrics and unique sound. He knew that their fans would appreciate their effort. The show tonight was sold out, and they hadn’t even presented the first song on the new album yet. It was a sweet tease into better things to come.
Even with all the distractions, he still couldn’t get his mind off the raw stare that Abigail had given him in Burt’s office today. She had a cool, refreshing energy. But there was a warmth there too, a sensual promise that much more lay beneath her innocent exterior.
“I’ll meet you guys in a few minutes,” Lucas said.
Asher gave him a sideways glance. “You still need to do your thing?”
Lucas laughed as he sat down and placed his guitar in his lap. “Yep.” Asher was referring to the fact that Lucas always needed to have a few minutes alone with his guitar before a show started so that he could warm it and himself up.
The guitar itself was an acoustic/electric. That’s one of the reasons why he loved it so much. He reveled in the fact that he could take five minutes before the show was set to begin to warm himself up and get his already calloused fingers adapted to the strings.
He had just replaced the strings on this guitar last night. He would have to switch them out again after this show, but that was normal. By the end of their last set each time they played a concert, his strings were shot.
Lucas began strumming the tune to one of his favorite songs that he had written along with one of their producers. It was called Stuck, and it was about coming out of drug addiction and mastering a life of sobriety. If anyone knew what that was like, it was Lucas. Maybe his music would change someone’s life. That would be an added bonus to the amount of tits and ass that came from his groupies.
He practically got off on the fact that people out there might hear his songs and that it might become their saving grace to bring them out of emotional or physical storms. Life was good at lifting you up like a balloon and then crashing you down like the crest of a wave. It was just the way the tide drifted sometimes.
He strummed, quickly beating his guitar and the chords into submission. He didn’t get nerves anymore before going on stage. He’d gotten over that rookie reaction a long time ago. No, he commanded the stage and his music. There were no mistakes, no bad sounds, and no missed notes. Closing his eyes, he let himself sink into the music, feeling the vibration of the strings beneath his hardened fingers. It went right to his soul.
The sound of his phone ringing pulled him from his reverie.
He reached his hand into his back pocket for his phone. Glancing at the screen, his heart plummeted. “What the fuck?” He said aloud.
Lucas clenched his hand around the phone as a slow fury boiled inside him. Why hadn’t he blocked her number? He was a fucking idiot; that’s why.
It was his ex-girlfriend Christy calling him. He hadn’t spoken to her in over two years. He hadn’t physically seen her in almost five. Why was she calling him out of the blue? It could only mean trouble. Christy was dangerous and always strung out. He was surprised that she was still alive, as harsh as that sounded. He was a touch disappointed that she wasn’t.
She had been like an open sore on his skin that was stubborn to heal, no matter what kind of fervent efforts he put into emotionally and physically removing himself from their unhealthy relationship. She festered in his emotional psyche. But she was one of those women who had talons that buried deep and clung, holding on and ripping until he had no choice but to cave to her demands.
He was pissed. He swiped the ignore button and hastily shoved his phone back in his pocket. No way, no how, was he ever going to answer that call. Maybe if hell froze over, but probably not even then, would he give Christy anymore of his soul than she had already broken so maliciously over the years.
He tried not to let the disturbance get to him. He tried to refocus, but it was difficult now that he saw her number on his cell phone screen. He took a deep breath and stood up. He needed air. He needed to pour his energy into the concert so that he wouldn’t collapse in on himself like a dying star.
Even as he stood on stage and stared out into the sea of adoring fans, all he could see was Christy and Abigail, clouding his mind and confusing him. After the show was over, he was really going to need a stiff drink to get his priorities in order.
Chapter Three
LUCAS LOVED BEING IN the studio by himself. There was something calming and peaceful about having all that equipment to himself. Not to mention, he was free to be his own unique individual. He could strum the guitar to his heart’s content, and no one would tell him he was doing it wrong.
There was no sour-faced producer giving him a leer about how he messed up on a chord. There weren’t any other band mates there to put in their two cents about how he should be playing that chord in an octave higher.
No, when Lucas had the studio to himself, he was free, and it was an exhilarating feeling as if he were hurtling down a roller coaster, but in a perfect way that made him smile. He was in the studio earlier than usual, and much earlier than any of his band members would even attempt to get out of bed. He’d get up at any time to get here alone and have all the control.
He was in his element, playing with the buttons on the control board when he heard a noise behind him. He spun to look behind him. Noon, wondering who could be there because he hadn’t received a call, nor was he expecting anyone else to show up this time of the day.
When he turned around, his heart raced. He became sweaty, and his fingertips went numb.
“I’m so sorry...” the hot intern with the sandy blonde hair said turned as if she was going to exit the studio.
“Wait,” Lucas called out after her and stood up so fast that his swivel chair began to spin in a circle from the inertia of his swift movements.
The intern turned back around and gave him a curious glance through beautiful, oval-shaped eyes.
Lucas focused on giving her a warm smile, a gesture not easy for him. “Abigail, right?”
Her eyes widened, and she pitched her eyebrows as if she was positively shocked that he knew her name.
Lucas continued to grin as he approached her. “I’m Lucas.” She already knew that.
“I know,” she said ne
rvously. Her demeanor was reserved as if she was expecting him to reprimand her for being in his private studio without an invitation. With a gorgeous body like hers, Abigail didn’t need an invitation. She was welcome anywhere he was at any time of the day.
Lucas was intrigued by her. He wanted to know who she was, and what made her tick. He wanted her legs wrapped around his waist, but that might take some time and effort to achieve. She had a vivacious energy that locked him in. A woman like her could be very dangerous to a man as weak as him. He loved a hint of danger, a promise of submission.
“I didn’t know you were in here,” she said in an apologetic tone and pointed her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the exit.
“It’s okay,” Lucas smiled. “I’m not Burt. I’m not going to chew you out.”
Abigail’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and she let out a little sigh. “Thank goodness,” he heard her mumble, barely inaudible, under her breath.
Lucas chuckled. He propped himself up against the side of the wall.
“That’s actually why I’m here...” Abigail mentioned abstractly.
“I’m sorry?” He leaned closure with curiosity.
“Burt,” Abigail said as if the mere name on her lips sent shivers up her spine. “He sent me here to see if his promotional binder was in here. Well, actually, his assistant Jaime sent me here because she couldn’t be bothered to do what Burt asked her to do.” She let out a sigh.
“Ah,” Lucas nodded and kept his eyes locked on her. “Jaime’s reputation is well known around here.”
Abigail blushed and looked away as if she was afraid of being trapped into talking shit about her bosses.
“I’ll help you look.” Lucas offered.
Abigail’s expression brightened. “Why would you want to help me? I’m sure you have a million things to do.”
“I don’t.” He gave a dismissive wave and caught her eyes with a stare that he knew was hard. That was his default—stern and unfeeling—though he wished he could be different.
Rockstar Intern (Infinity Prism, #5) Page 2