Page 8 of The Fix

In front of us, directing and ordering, could rival that of a drill instructor on his worst day.

If they wore tight skirts and fire-red hair in buns so tight their brains had to hurt.

“Where’s Le?”

The question gains me a raised, perfectly sculpted brow—so perfect, I think the woman threatened it to stay in place—and a purse of her pale lips.

There’s almost no color to her face. Or her, in general, with the plain wardrobe and the lack of makeup that makes any of her good qualities stand out.

Bland.

And annoying.

“He had to step out,” Anna nearly hisses, her face barely hiding the eye roll as if it’s somehow my fault that the manager had manager shit to do and left her in charge of us. “But if you’re done interrupting me, we can get this over with.”

“Oh, burn,” Rex snickers but snaps his lips shut when As Above’s PR rep turns her steely green gaze on him.

“Rex, you are responsible for answering the questions. Make sure you only say what you’re comfortable with and nothing more.”

My bandmate nods and accepts the final card from her pinched fingers.

Even her nails are a similar shade to the woman’s tan skirt.

Where most of the women in this industry would be covered in ink, Anna is not. They’d wear massive amounts of paint on their faces in various colors, especially black, but not her.

In fact, I don’t think this woman owns a single black item.

And most would be down to fuck any one of us. They’d throw themselves at us like the last PR rep Leo fired or way too many of the groupies that follow us.

Not goodie-two-shoes Anna.

“Any questions?” she calls to the room, making eye contact with each member of As Above.

“Nah,” Fin responds.

“Not our first rodeo,” Mac quips, the last word coming out as ro-day-o.

“All good,” Rex answers and reaches around his by-blood-brother to slap my shoulder. “Right, Tob?”

I nod to my lead singer and follow the rest of my band out into a viewing area where we get to watch the DJ of this radio show headbanging to a song he’s playing for the listeners in prep for our interview.

“All right, all right, metalheads. For those of you listening at home, you’ve got Nitro with Reaper Radio and we have a very special guest for you tonight.” The man claps his heavily tatted hands, and winks through the glass at us. “As Above is in the house, ready to answer some burning questions and talk music for us. They’re on after this! So stick around.”

Rock music fills the space as Nitro hits a few buttons, then tips his headphones off and waves us in. The audio tech smiles as we pass, closing the door behind us.

“Hey hey, guys.” Nitro stands and reaches out to shake hands with a grin. “So glad you guys could make it out.”

“Thanks for having us.” Rex is the first to shake and take a seat, headphones situated on his head.

“It’s been, what, three years?” Nitro asks the group as we each return his offered hand in greeting. “Too long, I know that. How’s the families?”

Finland snickers, and Rex smiles proudly. “Well, that’s what we’re here to talk about.”

“Perfect.” Nitro slips back into his seat, headphones on. “We got about thirty seconds before we’re live.”

I sit and lean into the table, my headgear securely in place, letting the end of the song calm my sweating palms.

I’m not nervous. I just hate talking in front of people, especially when I can’t see them.

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