Page 5 of Pretty Little Rocker

Me.

I totally wanted to play with those three stupid, stinky—definitely not the three hottest male specimens I’d ever meet, but talented-as-fuck—boys.

Yeah, that was exactly what they were.

Fuck boys.

And I kinda wanted to fuck them.

All of them.

One at a time. Have them share me. Do dirty, filthy things to my body.

We could just play around for a little while.

While I was their drummer.

Playing with a band was what I’d always planned on doing eventually. I hadn’t been in a rush, though, wanting to wait for the perfect sound and members I could mesh well with.

For those few precious moments I’d played onstage with Autumn’s Slumber, I’d felt the connection. The awe. That spark of rightness. This was supposed to be my band.

And they had to be jerks with that whole “no girls allowed” mentality.

This had to be some kind of karma for one of the many, many mistakes I’d made over the last twenty years. Too bad for karma, I wasn’t one to sit around and let her have a few laughs at my expense.

I had Nate keep me up-to-date on the details of the open audition for Autumn’s Slumber’s drummer. He kept First Bass running seamlessly so Dad didn’t worry himself into an early grave. I didn’t know how Nate could work as a manager and still tend bar in the VIP on his own without giving himself an ulcer. After watching how stressed it made my dad at times, I’d decided from a young age I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps.

Pop-Pop and Poppy made it easy to choose a career path. Devlin Cutter and Jesse Thornton weren’t just rock legends—they were two of the most famous drummers in history. I didn’t want to siphon off their names. I just wanted them to teach me everything they knew. Which they’d done, starting from the moment I’d first picked up a pair of drumsticks.

Now, I was teaching them a few skills I’d picked up or taught myself.

With Nate’s help, I had my name on the list for the auditions, but clearly as an alias. I’d convinced him to talk my dad into doing the auditions blind by putting up a screen, so the drummer auditioning would be unseen and anyone judging could only choose off talent alone. But even with that going for me, I still decided to disguise myself. Dramatic, sure, but then again, it was what those three assholes were expecting because they thought I was so full of drama.

For hours every day, I worked on the mashup of songs I planned on performing for the audition. I watched every video I could find of Autumn’s Slumber online, picking the cover songs they favored to give me a starting point of what sound they were going for the most often. They needed to know the wide range I offered, so I mixed six songs together, recording each play-through, not only to see where I needed to focus on changing anything to make my performance better, but so I could use the content later for my Havoc platforms.

A text was already waiting for me when I woke up the morning of the auditions.

Abi: You’re going to kill it tonight. Love you hard.

Grinning at my best friend’s words, I rolled out of bed and took a long shower. The audition wasn’t until later that evening, but I needed a little help with my disguise. Throwing everything I needed into a gym bag, I slung it over my shoulder as I left my bedroom, my hair still damp.

Evan was in the kitchen with Mom when I got downstairs. Snatching the bagel he’d just spread cream cheese over, I took a hungry bite and danced out of his reach when he tried to swat at me. He was six foot ten at seventeen, and he still hadn’t stopped growing. With another year of high school to go, he was already being scouted by college basketball coaches. He hadn’t even hinted where he wanted to end up, but I knew my brother had talent on the court.

Mom took one look at me, and her brown eyes narrowed. “Where are you going so early?”

Her suspiciousness was fair. Early mornings and I didn’t get along—at all. But today was important, and I wasn’t about to let my love-hate relationship with the sunrise mess with my big “fuck you” to the guys of Autumn’s Slumber. “I’m meeting one of the cousins.”

“Will this meet-up potentially require bail money?” she asked curiously, her nails tapping on the counter beside the toaster where she was making Evan a second bagel.

I answered with a shrug as I took another bite of my breakfast.

“Fuck’s sake,” she groaned, pointing a butter knife covered in cream cheese at me. “I don’t know what you’re up to, Hayat, but if I have to bail you out of jail tonight, I’m going to be pissed.”

“This cousin is the least likely person to help me cause enough mayhem to end up incarcerated,” I soothed.

Arella was lower on the list of my cousins who I would end up in a cell with. She had her family to think about, all those kids she and Jordan Moreitti were constantly working on creating. Not to mention, Jordan always had at least two bodyguards with his wife if she left their mega-mansion. She might not be the last name on the list, though. There was always that odd chance that she and I might need legal representation. But that was only if we were out in public together. Which wasn’t part of the plan, so Mom didn’t need to worry.

Much.

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