Page 11 of Her Dark Angel

The glass is cold in my hand as I twist off the cap, pull the stick from my lips, and chug half the bottle. I close my eyes as the cool liquid settles in my stomach.

“Why don’t you use the little blondie we saw leaving your office earlier?” Hudson comments, wiggling his brows at me suggestively.

I roll my eyes. “No way in hell. I barely know the woman, much less want to use her as inspiration.” It’s bad enough James is forcing the publicity stunt contract on me, leaving me little room for any say in the situation. “I would rather not write a song about the woman I’ll be fake dating.”

“So, it is true then.”

Luca’s words make me snap my head toward him. “How do you already know about the deal?”

“James told us a few days ago,” Axel answers nonchalantly before sipping on his beer. “He wanted us to be on the same page about the whole thing before he talked to you about it.”

That motherfucker. I grip the base of the bottle, my knuckles turning white. “He had no right to tell you all before me.”

“I know, Nash,” Hudson comments, a sympathetic expression marring his features. “But it’s better that we know, right? That way we can all be on the same page about it since it does affect the band.”

While Hudson is right, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still pissed at James for telling them before me. I’m the one who has to be in the fucking fake relationship, after all.

“Are you going to do it?” Luca asks, his chocolate eyes focused on me. “I mean… she’s pretty hot from what I saw.”

“Keep it in your pants, Lu,” I respond gruffly, and chug the remainder of the beer. “After the six months is up, you can go for gold.”

I’m reminded of the conversation I had with the little devil only a couple of hours ago. As much as I would find pleasure in telling her agency and James to shove their deal up their fucking asses, I can’t deny the extra publicity for Dark Angel will do us some good as we get ready to go on tour and release the new album in the coming months.

The little devil is going to be a handful, that much I fucking know. From the short conversation we had, she seemed strong-headed and knew what she wanted and how to get it. She has an attitude the size of the fucking Grand Canyon, and I just know it’s going to drive me up the wall.

But I can handle her. So the question is: can she handle me?

“Don’t fuck this up, Nash,” Axel comments, his piercing blue eyes pinning me to the couch. “We need this to work if we want the next record and upcoming tour to be a success. I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but the label is riding on this publicity stunt to go smoothly.”

I roll my eyes and take another drag of the cigarette perched between my fingers. “Yeah, no fucking pressure at all, Ax.”

He holds his hands up in defense. “I’m just saying.”

All this talk of contracts and upcoming records and tours has my head spinning and my pulse racing. It’s too much to handle all at once. It’s not hard for me to get overwhelmed with the details of my life, which is why I often find myself getting lost in alcohol, pussy, and the occasional drug taking. Okay… a lot of drug taking.

And right now, I’m desperate for a hit of all three.

“Okay, you can all get the fuck out of my house now.” I get to my feet and toss the beer bottle into the trash can beside the door.

After putting away their instruments, the three of them make their way toward the door of the studio, beers in hand. When they step out into the hallway, I flick the lights off and shut the door behind me. We walk in silence to the front door where they turn to face me.

“Don’t forget that we have a meeting with James tomorrow at midday, okay?” Hudson reminds me. He’s the most responsible one in the group, always checking our schedule and reminding us of upcoming events or meetings.

“Got it,” I say with a nod, and hold the door open for them.

When they step off the front porch and head down the driveway to their waiting cars, I close the door and spin on my heels. Johnny is standing right behind me with a goofy grin on his face.

The sudden presence makes me jump, and annoyance quickly consumes me. “Jesus fucking Christ, Johnny. You can’t be scaring me like that. Shit.”

“Sorry,” he says, but the stupid look on his face doesn’t shift. “I was wondering if you needed anything.”

I don’t know why I let Johnny hang out at my house. It could be because he enjoys handling shit I don’t want to deal with—like answering the front door and phone calls—or it’s because he knows how to get the good drugs discreetly. I met him at a club one night and he latched onto me like a leech. Once he started coming around for parties, he never left, but I don’t mind. Oddly enough, I enjoy the company. But I won’t ever tell him that.

“Yeah, I need a bag of blow, a bottle of Jack, and for you to leave me the fuck alone for the rest of the night.”

“All done. When you were in your office talking to the pretty blonde lady, I left a bag and a bottle on your nightstand,” he tells me with a smile.

My lip quirks up in a half grin. Johnny may be a fucking idiot, but he never fails to keep me content. I clap a hand on his shoulder as I walk past him to the staircase without another word. When I reach my closed bedroom door, I hear soft moans through the wood.

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