Zander rose. “Where’s Jayne? Is she already backstage?”
“She went home.”
“Why? Is she sick?”
Should she lie? A little fib to get them through the show? Telling them the truth could wreck their concentration. “She needed some quiet time. Come on, get to the stage.”
“Quiet time?” He shook his head and pulled out his phone. “I swear, if you don’t tell me what the hell’s going on…”
“Fine. She quit. I hope you’re all happy about your part in that.” She glared at them. Resentment built fast. Her relationship with her best friend might be ruined.
“You mean Luke’s part in that.” Zander’s head whipped in the singer’s direction. Then he pushed his way out of the room and sprinted down the hall, in the direction away from the stage.
“Great. Just great.” She dragged her hands through her hair, then jerked her thumb at the rest of the band. “Get to the stage. I’ll play his damn guitar myself if he’s not back in time.”
Ten minutes later, the fans were chanting the band’s name. Irisa stood on the darkened stage and gripped Zander’s guitar in her hands. She only knew the basics he’d taught her, and they weren’t enough to fake her way through the songs. Where was he?
He strode onto the stage, hair disheveled, eyes wild, and held out his hand. “Give me that before you hurt someone.”
“Are you all right?”
He strapped on the guitar. “No. But I’ll play. You’d better go. This place is about to explode.”
She backed off. She’d never seen that look in his eyes before. They opened with “Temperature Rising”, then rolled into “Cut Down”. While Luke talked to the crowd, Zander kept to his side of the stage. Three more songs down, and she began to relax.
The opening riff of “My Fist, Your Face”, their most heavy, volatile song, began and Zander moved closer to the fans. After the last chorus, during what should have been Zander’s guitar solo, Luke kept singing, improvising lyrics that didn’t go with the song and only covered up her brother’s shredding.
Zander kicked him and glared, playing even faster. Luke shoved her brother’s shoulder and kept singing. Glowering, they faced off. Zander stopped playing and shoved at Luke’s chest with both hands. The singer stumbled back a few steps, then lunged at Zander with a punch. They grabbed onto each other like two prizefighters.
No.
Irisa stepped onto the stage, but Landry was faster. The bass player jumped between them. Whatever he yelled was swallowed by the cheering crowd. The only music came from Brendan’s drums. He improvised a crashing, clanging solo.
Landry pushed Luke back to the left side of the stage, then pointed Zander to the right side, and then grabbed the mic. “See what happens when we get caught up in the music?”
The crowd cheered, but Irisa wanted to cry. They’d never come to blows before.
Landry stayed in the middle of the stage for the rest of the show. Apparently, he’d had enough. He wasn’t the only one.
As soon as the last note faded, her phone lit with a call from Oliver.
“Hi, Ris. How’d the show go tonight?” His tone was too snide.
“I have a lot going on. Can we skip the small talk?” Zander and Luke strode by her. Landry and Brendan followed close behind. All of their expressions promised murder.
“All right. Well, I know how the show went tonight. You want to tell me what’s going on over there?”
Patience worn thin finally snapped. “If you’re going to try to tell me how to do my job again, you can back off. And if that’s the only reason you’re calling, then I don’t have time for this.”
“It’s my job to make sure you’re doing your job. And with all that happened today, the radio interview and the fight onstage that’s just gone viral, it’s obvious that you’re not doing your job.”
She paced across the darkened stage, dodging crew members. “They finished the show. Everyone’s fine now. They’ll be back to their normal selves for the next show.”
“Their normal selves have been bad for business. The label has a lot of money invested in the band. With what’s happened so far, they see this band crashing into a brick wall, and they don’t think you’re capable of keeping things together.”
Blood pounded through her veins. “Hold on. They can’t fire me. I work for the band, not the label.”
“They’re strongly suggesting that you resign as manager. If not, they’re going to pull the band from the tour.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m not kidding, Ris. Give me your decision within twenty-four hours.”
The call ended. She stared at the phone. Stunned. Her stomach burned. She pressed her hand against it and stared out into the emptying arena.
She couldn’t deny that the guys were falling apart. But they were her guys. Her mess to fix. But maybe they were too far gone. Maybe they did need a change. Luke’s words, even if he hadn’t meant them, might be true. …when things start falling apart… They fire the manager…
The guys had a right to know what Oliver said, and a right to decide who they wanted by their side. Squaring her shoulders, she walked down the hall. Raised voices rang out.
“Not again.” She raced for their room. The door opened with a click. They were squared off, Landry and Brendan against Luke and Zander. None of the men were bleeding, but she didn’t doubt they were seconds from coming to blows.
She stood in the middle of the room as insults flew and blame was cast. Each barb hurled from one band member to another passed through her like a poison-tipped arrow.
“Stop!” The word exploded out of her. The guys turned and stared. “Just stop. This isn’t helping. You guys are like brothers. Remember that before you say anything else.”
Zander glanced at the other guys. Rubbing his hand over his hair, he took a few steps back, and then his gaze narrowed on her. “What’s going on? You look like you’re about to fall over.”
Her heart pounded in her throat. “I just spoke with Oliver. Excite is demanding that I resign as your manager, effective immediately.”
“What?”
“They’ve put a lot of money into you, and given recent events, they feel that I’m incapable of keeping things together.” She stared at each of them, heart breaking over their angry expressions. “And they’re right.”
“Screw them. You’re my sister. They can’t make you quit.” He crossed to her.
“If I don’t resign, they’re going to pull you guys off the tour.”
He shook his head. “They wouldn’t kick us off.”
“Is it so hard to believe? Not to me. Not after all that’s happened since before it began. The arrest, the bar fight, Luke quitting, Luke and Zander’s behavior during the interview, the disaster at the bar, the mess with Jayne, and now a fistfight on stage.” She ticked off each instance on her fingers. “I’ve failed at keeping things calm. Maybe you do need someone else.”
Zander shook his head. “No way. I lost Jayne today. I’m not losing you, too.”
“The alternative is getting pulled from the tour. You don’t want that. I don’t want that.”
“It’s always been family first with us, right? That’s not changing now.” He turned toward at the guys. “Maybe we lost focus of that.”
No one said anything for several moments, but the air seemed thick with thoughts and heavy with emotions.
Brendan came over. Always the peacemaker. “We wouldn’t be the same without you. The band needs you.” He met her brother’s stare with a half-smile. “The band needs all of us.”
Zander clapped him on the back. “Thanks, man.”
Landry joined them. “No one else would fit in.”
Finally Luke crossed the room with slow steps. “You’re as much a part of this band as we are.” He offered her a small smile. The first smile she’d seen on his face in days.
They huddled around her, a protective wall of solid support. Somehow, they’d come togethe
r and forged a truce, for her. She hated to break the spell, but… “You’ve been at each other’s throats, but my problem makes you all come together?”
Zander rested his hand on Luke’s shoulder, then nodded toward Brendan and Landry. “We cleared the air on a few things while you were on the phone.”
“I walked in on the tail end of that conversation, remember? It wasn’t friendly.”
“No. Before that…” He raised his eyebrows at Luke.
The singer nodded. “What happened with Seth was a wake-up call. He went in the back room, and I was so ticked off and caught up in the interview I didn’t realize he never came out. I lost focus and blame myself for him ending up in the hospital. I’ve already apologized to Griffin and his band, and to these guys, but I need to apologize to you. I’ve been an asshole for a while. I’m sorry.”
“Why have you been one?”
Luke shoved his hand through his hair. “Audrey Pierce.”
Irisa failed to see the connection between him and the fashion designer the band had befriended during their East Coast tour. “I don’t understand.”
“I thought we had something, but she had other thoughts…” He glanced at Zander, then shifted back to Irisa. “When Jayne laid into me today about not running that errand, some things she said really hit home. I figured out of all people, I could talk to you about it, and about Audrey, so I called you…”
“And I bit your head off and didn’t even listen to you.” Guilt overwhelmed her. Family hadn’t come first there. Her fault. Entirely her fault.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Seth stopped by after that and suggested we go to the bar to cool off before the interview, but as I sat there, I got angrier and angrier, and, well, you know what happened then.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. It won’t happen again.” She grasped his hand.
“I know it hasn’t seemed like it, but I don’t want to hurt the band.”
“We’re good now, man.” Landry patted him on the back. “We yell, we fight, we throw punches, then it’s over and done, until the next one.”
She didn’t want to think about the next one. “If I stay, what if Excite makes good on their threat to pull you?”
Zander smirked. “Do you know how much money they’d risk losing if they did that?”
Luke nodded at him. “I say we call their bluff.”
No one else would care about the guys as much as she did. If they were really serious about coming together, then she needed to be there for them. They were her guys, and she was going to prove to Excite that she was more than capable of handling them. “So what do we do?”
“We storm the castle, together.” Her brother’s words gave her pause.
“You mean show up at Excite? I hate the idea of throwing myself on Oliver’s mercy, especially face to face.”
“You’re not asking that jerk for anything. We’re going to the top. We’re flying to Vance’s house in Vegas.”
“Now? It’s eleven thirty.” Vance DuBrow, Excite’s president, likely wouldn’t appreciate a late night or early morning visit.
“Threatening to pull us off the tour was a stupid move, and he’s going to see how much.” Zander pulled out his phone. “I’ll make the reservations for the flight and text you. Go home and pack a bag. Get some sleep, or hell, come over and crash at my place. We’ll leave from my house in the morning.”
“This is crazy. We’re going to show up at his home on a Sunday, uninvited?” She was the manager—she was supposed to be the voice of reason.
“He asked for it. Let’s get out of here.” Zander led the way, followed by Brendan and Landry.
“I won’t let you guys down.” As she made her vow, two things came to mind.
She’d do whatever it took to get the band back on track. And that meant she needed to talk to Dom.
At midnight, Dom sent a text to Irisa. Home yet?
He wanted to hold her and to fall asleep holding her. Waking up with her in his arms would help him face the day and the dreaded media blitz awaiting him. One minute passed, then two, then five. He set the phone aside and stood. Maybe she’d fallen asleep. Or maybe she was getting ready for bed and didn’t see the message. He walked to the window. Bracing his hands on the sill, he surveyed the darkened sky. Or maybe she was exhausted and didn’t want company. He rubbed his stomach, not liking the flare of disappointment residing there.
The soft ping of the message alert sounded. He laughed at himself and shook his head. Too much overthinking. He grabbed the phone from the couch.
Can you meet me for a drink downstairs in the pub?
Frowning, he stared at the screen. Not one of her usual smiley-faced messages. Hopefully the rest of her day hadn’t been as bad as his. Sure, when?
I’m here now.
Be right down.
After he sent the message, he received one from his agent.
Riptide will release a formal statement regarding your suspension mid-morning on Sunday. I’m crafting a response for you. DO NOT respond to anything or anyone without talking to me first.
Drawing in deep, even breaths, he forced every muscle in his body to go lax. The relaxation technique didn’t work. Fury burned through him and locked his muscles up tight. Whatever. Seeing Irisa always worked better at calming him anyway. At least he still had her.
After making sure Champ was settled, he headed down to the pub.
When he walked into the pub, he spotted her tucked into the corner table at the back of the room. She still wore the blue shirt and shorts she’d had on at the bar. But they were wrinkled now. Her hair, caught back in a ponytail, made her look years younger, and, somehow, more vulnerable. A travel bag sat on the floor and she held an empty shot glass in her hand. She never did shots.
“Hey.” He leaned over to kiss her. “What are you drinking?”
“Whiskey.”
“Why?”
Her lips pressed together. For a moment, devoid of any color. “Sit.”
Radar up. Not good. Before he could ask, a waiter interrupted them. "What can I get you?"
Irisa raised her glass. "Another, please."
He'd never seen that sad, desperate gaze before. Whatever was wrong, he'd need a clear head to fix it. "Nothing for me, thanks."
"So…" Rings clacked the table as she wrung her hands together.
He reached over and covered hers with his. "What happened?"
"I can't…" She shook her head. Tapered fingers gripped his, then eased. "I have to…" Her face crumpled for a moment and she looked away, biting her lip.
Alarm raced through him. He rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles. "What's wrong? Talk to me."
He sensed the waiter's approach. When they were alone once more, Irisa extracted her hands from his grip and downed the shot.
"Feel better?"
She shook her head. Tears sparkled in her eyes. "I can't see you anymore."
A sharp spade of ice shot through him. “What the hell are you talking about?” The words exploded out of him, drawing the attention of the other tables.
“There’s too much chaos surrounding the band. And Excite wants my resignation or they’re going to pull the guys off the tour.”
His heartbeat raced and he fought to control his breath. “So you think the solution is to stop seeing me?”
“I was distracted by what was happening between us. I neglected the guys and my duties. They’re my family. It’s my responsibility to keep things running smoothly. With all that’s happened, they need my full focus more than ever.”
The waiter approached again. "Ms. Rostov, your cab is here."
She nodded and stood.
He sprang to his feet. "Wait."
"I can't. I've made such a mess of things." She reached for her bag but he grabbed it first.
"Where are you going?"
“Vegas. I have to fight for my job and throw myself at the mercy of the company president. I don’t even know if it’ll work. But I won
’t let my guys get pulled off that tour.”
“When will you be back?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
They wrestled with her bag until she finally wrenched it free. He followed her to the door. The night watchman stepped aside. Dom grabbed Irisa’s hand. “We’re not done.”
Her hand lay limp in his. “It’s not only me. You’ve been in a lot of hot water with your team because of me and my band. It’s for the best that we end this now, before anything else happens to you.”
Too late.
But would telling her make any difference? He knew the way her mind worked. She’d only blame herself.
“I’m sorry, Dom,” she whispered. “I have to go.”
The cab idled, ready to carry her away from him. He released his grip. “We’ll talk when you get back.”
She shook her head, tears forming in her hazel eyes. “No. We won’t. There’s nothing left to say.”
She walked away, leaving him standing at the door, holding onto nothing but the empty shell of what had been hope.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
When she reached her brother’s house, Irisa went directly to his guest room. A few hours later, as dawn kissed the sky, she climbed into his car. She left her sunglasses in place throughout the drive from Zander’s house to the airport, and throughout the plane trip to Vegas. No one needed to see her puffy eyes, and she didn’t want to have to give them an explanation either. She avoided speaking to the guys by pretending to sleep. Eyes closed, she relived the conversation with Dom, over and over again. And emotion for emotion, it all played back, a horrid in-flight movie.
Zander directed her toward an exit. “I hired a car and driver for us too.”
The large black SUV with tinted windows stretched out before her. “Nice job.” She greeted the driver and climbed inside. Before she could again pretend to sleep, Zander snatched the glasses off her face. “Hey.”
“What’s wrong?” He held them away from her.
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