Page 25 of Hope & Harmony

“What is going on?” I set down my sticks, conveying my frustration.

“You don’t have a choice,” Emmitt continued on, not noticing me. “You guys are a mess. Missing cues…” Emmit peered at all of us, though once again I felt this was about me. “You’ve been off without him, and I get it. His loss was a shock. But you are at the cusp of being the next big thing, and I won’t let you throw it away! I understand it must be difficult to go on without him. But you didn’t work this hard,hedidn’t work this hard, for you to throw it all away. And don’t tell me Ziggy wouldn’t want this for all of you. You know he’d be screaming at you guys right now,” Emmit challenged us. He was right; Ziggy, of all people, would be telling us to get our shit together. He was our rock, while we didn’t notice he was losing his way in drugs. “As your manager, unless you want to fire me, I’ll make this decision. I’ll be the bad person and fill Ziggy’s spot. ”

Ames snapped to him as though he was about to speak, but Emmit held up his hand.

“At least give him a chance. Okay? You can at least do that since he came all the way here.”

“What?!” Ames sputtered, making it hard for me to understand. “He’s here? Now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you serious?” Geo’s pierced mouth hung open, his shaggy reddish-brown hair falling over his forehead.

“Fuck this!” Tobias ripped the guitar strap over his head, his movements irritated, his curly black hair tangling in the fabric.

“What is going on?” I asked, frustrated, as no one seemed to be paying me much attention, too caught up in their own anger. “Who’s here?”

“Stop being babies!” Emmit’s chest lifted, his tone humming through the floor. “You’re about to have everything you’ve wanted if you just put your egos away!”

“Mental Breakdown are not sellouts!” Ames scrubbed his hands through his scruff as his long, lean, fit body, covered in tattoos and piercings, paced in a circle.

“Mental Breakdown will not be selling anything if you don’t get out of your own way!” Emmit’s button-down shirt stretched across his chest, his arms swinging. His brown hair was styled and had a hint of salt and pepper, which he blamed on us. “Scotch Tape Holeis starting to fall in the charts, and this business is fleeting. One minute, you’re the hot thing; the next, you’re not. We have to strike while the iron is hot. And he is the best thing to happen to you right now.” Emmit struggled to stay facing me. “Think about it. One of the best bass guitarists from the top group in the world right now joins Mental Breakdown? The fans will go apeshit, and the press alone will be insane!”

Dread tricked down my throat into my stomach, sensing the world about to collapse. Intuition told me what was coming, yet my head shook in denial.

No. No way. Emmit would never do this to us. Plus, there was no wayhewould come here. Join our band. It had to be someone else.

He was the best guitarist. Even if the group were sellouts, you couldn’t denyhistalent. He carried the band and had ten times more charisma than the lead singer or anyone in his band. He always did.

Emmit swung away from us, his arm motioning for someone to come in.

My gaze darted to Geo and Tobias, hoping to see something in their expressions that told me I was wrong, that who I thought was about to walk in wasn’t going to.

Their eyes met mine with the same dismay.

Heavy black boots shuddered across the wood stage, all our heads darting to the entrance.

Holy. Fuck.

Air sucked out of the room, and time stopped like it couldn’t handle this man’s energy either. Even as a teenager, when our paths first crossed, he had an effect on me.

But then I learned what kind of man he was, and I vowed to avoid the base guitar of The Velvet Kings at all costs.

Hendrix (Drix) Decker.

CHAPTER 2

No one moved and no one spoke. All eyes were on the famous bass guitarist. The tension in the room flourished, tasting bitter on my tongue. He seemed immune to it, his expression unintimidated by the hostile energy. Always cool, always unflappable.

And it pissed me off.

He was the epitome of a rockstar god. Probably most of the reason The Velvet Kings were so popular. Women fell to their knees when he entered a room or walked onto the stage, and men bowed to him as if he were a legend.

Drix Decker was over 6’3” with a ripped body. His broad shoulders had my 5’4” size self feeling like a flea next to a lion. Dark brown hair hung to his shoulder on one side and shaved on the other. A nose and eyebrow ring adorned his face, and tattoos went up his neck and covered his torso, arms, and hands. His amber eyes always felt as if they were hunting, tearing into your flesh. The man was drop-dead gorgeous and held such brutal, raw energy it caused fluttering in my chest.

I loathed him for causing that sensation, especially as my irrational mind told me otherwise.

Cognac-colored eyes slid around the room, stopping on me. My teeth gritted. His attention was overwhelming, and he oozed so much confidence that it was like staring at the sun.

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