Page 2 of Pretty Little Rocker

“Do you feel better now?” Dad asked quietly as the guys onstage finally realized that their drummer was still on the floor where I’d left him.

I shrugged, tapping the drumsticks on the bar top to the tempo playing in my head. “He was making me twitchy. And they were too good to ruin that audition because the prick wasn’t taking it seriously enough.”

“Maybe he was just nervous,” Dad tried to excuse.

Jace and I both gave him a look that said we thought he was full of shit.

Dad’s lips twitched with a hint of a smile, but otherwise, he remained stoic. When it came to the club, he was professional as always. I liked that he took his work so seriously. My parents—hell, my entire family—had driven into me how important having a good work ethic was. Success was earned, not something that was handed to you just because of what your last name might be or who you knew.

“Other than the drummer issue, what is your opinion on the band?” he asked us.

Jace scratched at the blond stubble on his chin. “They have a passion I haven’t seen in an indie band in forever. The bassist and the guitarist are skilled, but fuck, that frontman. He’s pure gold. If the fire-breather were here right now, she would snatch him up faster than any of us could blink.”

While he spoke, I watched the guys onstage while the house lights turned on, dimming the harshness of the stage lighting. The bass and guitar players were whispering furiously to the drummer, who was finally getting to his feet, now shooting dirty looks my way. My hair was still tucked beneath my hoodie, which was pulled tight. I couldn’t bear to cut a single lock of my hair, but it got in my way more often than not. Stretching my neck left and right, I prepared for the fight I could see the dumbass was itching for.

I wasn’t a dainty little girl. Delicate wasn’t in my vocabulary. Standing at six foot one without shoes, I had a slender, dancer’s physique. Modeling agencies tried to sign me all the time, but the only thing I cared about when it came to fashion was if it was comfortable. I was confident with my height and my curves.

But there were guys who sized me up and automatically thought it would be a good idea to fight me. And from the glint in the drummer’s eyes, I knew he was considering his chances of taking a swing at me.

Grinning at him, I winked and finally pushed my hood off my head, fluffing a little more lift back into my curls.

“Hayat?” Dad said with a sigh, probably sensing the edge of violence that was running through me.

He wasn’t wrong. I would have loved to stake one of the drumsticks through that asshole’s chest. Hayat Van Helsing had a nice ring to it. But the drummer wasn’t a vampire, and piercing someone’s heart was considered murder—which was frowned upon.

Pity.

“I like the whole vibe of the band. The anonymity with the masks, mixed in with their sound, it’s mysterious and attractive. Uncle Jace is right. Aunt Emmie would snatch them up in a heartbeat.” I twirled one of my curls around my finger in thought, trying to force aside the way my heart raced and my body pulsed as I snuck glances at the bassist, guitarist, and singer. Damn it. They were all delicious, and I had no idea what they looked like under those masks and paint. That didn’t stop the energy that pumped through me, causing my body to react in a very, very visceral way to being in the same room with them.

Clearing my throat, I shrugged like I wasn’t affected. “I know you have been struggling to find a new band to fill the Thursday slot. This is the one, Dad. But if you hesitate, they’re going to get a better offer, and you’re going to be kicking your own ass over losing out.”

He pressed his lips into a hard line, but it was obvious he was taking my opinion seriously. After a long moment, he muttered a curse and walked over to the stage.

“Gentlemen, a moment of your time, please.”

Chapter Two

Ky

Setting my guitar on its stand, I took my time walking off the stage to where Harris Cutter stood. Hands thrust deep in his pockets, dark hair sprinkled slightly with gray, a muscle ticking in his jaw, he considered my bandmates and me.

Getting this audition had taken a miracle. Somehow, the recording I’d slapped together in my makeshift studio had gotten the club owner’s attention enough to offer us a live audition. Sparks, Jamie, and Hamel had been just as nervous as I was when we got there, but once we started playing, nothing else had mattered.

But even as lost in the music as I’d been, I didn’t miss the way Hamel kept fucking up. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and say it was his nerves because this was a huge opportunity for Autumn’s Slumber, but I couldn’t fully convince myself of that.

Harris pointed at Sparks, then Jamie, and finally me. “You three have talent. You don’t just make music up there—you create magic. I want to offer you the contract.”

My heart started pounding against my ribs, excitement zinging through my blood. But Harris’s lips twisted in a half snarl when he looked at Hamel, who crossed his arms over his chest defensively, causing my heart to drop into my stomach. Along with a ball of white-hot rage that I needed to tamp down before I ripped the little fucker apart. Hamel was seconds away from meeting my dark side, and he didn’t have a clue. “But you are a deal-breaker for me. If Hayat hadn’t saved that last song, I would have already been showing you all to the door.”

Sparks and Jamie glanced at me, both of them mouthing, “Hayat?” I shrugged.

“I was doing fine until that crazy bitch shoved me to the floor and took over,” Hamel sneered toward the bar area, but my focus was solely on the six-and-a-half-foot man in front of us.

I didn’t miss the threat of pain that crossed Harris’s face when my drummer called Hayat a crazy bitch. If we lost this contract because of him, I was going to kill Hamel with my bare hands. That was going to be a mess I wasn’t looking forward to cleaning up, but if he didn’t shut his idiotic mouth, I’d make a call and have every last drop of DNA wiped away after I drained him in the spa tub back in my private bathroom.

“Fucking chick thinking she can pound a pair of sticks on a drum set and pretend to be a star for two minutes. Pathetic.”

I heard a growl behind Harris, but what caught my attention was the sweet sound of a giggle. I almost looked around the huge man in front of me to get a glimpse of the source of that melodic sound. Jesus fuck, I’d never gotten hard over a giggle before. But there I stood, my cock like a steel beam in my pants.

---