Page 24 of Wicked Rockstar

I spotted Peter immediately. His large frame slouched in the leather chair. His sunglasses were firmly in place despite the indoor lighting or, more likely, because of it. Even afteryesterday, he still couldn’t stop himself from partying and showing up to an important meeting hungover.

Peter mustered a weak chin nod before tucking it against his chest. The action tugged at my heart. I knew I should be annoyed with him, but all I saw when I looked at him was the same boy I’d grown up with was struggling. His actions were a cry for help. I only wished he’d let me in. Iwantedto help.

“I don’t need the lecture, Tris,” Peter groused.

I held my thoughts and opinions to myself. Peter and I had to get through this meeting together, pushing at him before it started would not accomplish that.

“Are you ready for the meeting?” I asked lightly, but in a professional tone.

Peter groaned, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “My head is killing me. Do we even know what this is about?”

I frowned. “No.” I reached into my fanny pack and handed him ibuprofen and a small bottle of water. “Here.”

He gulped it down and chugged the water, then tossed the empty bottle into a nearby trash can, flinching at the noise when it hit the metal bottom.

We needed to present a unified front. I tugged on Peter’s arm, pulling him from the chair so I could drag him to the meeting. We had five minutes until it was scheduled to start, and I refused to be late.

Peter opened the door, stopping suddenly inside the waiting area.

I plowed right into his back. “What the hell, Peter?” I none-too-gently prodded him forward, curious to see what had this effect on him.

I immediately disregarded Hazel, Jareth’s assistant, as the reason. While absolutely beautiful, we’d met her numerous times before, and she’d never caused a reaction like this. Besides the fact that Hazel was also Jareth’s pregnant girlfriend, I waspretty sure that he would not hesitate to maim or kill anyone who looked at her wrong.

I peeked around Peter’s broad frame and stumbled. A striking woman—tall, with perfectly coiffed honey brown hair, and wearing a crisp tailored suit that screamed ‘professional’ chatted with Hazel. She and I were similar in height and body type, but the way she wore those clothes outshone everything professional in my wardrobe. A pang of insecurity made me tug on my off-the-rack blazer and lilac shirt.

Before I could catalog any more of the stranger’s incredible assets, Hazel noticed us. “Hi! It’s so nice to see both of you. It’s been far too long. Come on in.” She circled her desk as I nudged Peter to move. When he didn’t, I walked around him to Hazel, who enveloped me in a hug. She hugged Peter as well, and he awkwardly patted her back.

A throat cleared, its signal clear:Back away from my girl.Peter jumped as Jareth’s imposing figure filled his open office doorway. At 6’4”, with sharp features and eyes that were so dark they were almost black—he cut an intimidating figure. His keen business acumen and reputation set him apart in most circles.

Hazel’s peel of laughter echoed in the room as she winked at us and let Peter go. “Clearly, Mr. Vizier is ready to see you now.”

“Hazel.” Jareth’s tone came out a touch softer than usual. A silent communication happened between them that only took seconds but didn’t waver in its intensity.

She blew him a kiss before turning back to us. “Can I bring either of you something to drink?”

“Water would be amazing. Thank you, Hazel,” I responded, my throat as dry as a desert.

“You got it. And Peter, what can I get you?”

Peter opened his mouth to respond, and on the off chance he was going to be stupid and ask for alcohol, I answered for him. “He’ll have water, too.”

I was fairly certain that Peter was rolling his eyes at me behind his still-present sunglasses.

Jareth led the way into his office. “Peter, Trissa. Good morning,” he said, his tone clipped. “Please, have a seat.”

As we settled into our cushy chairs facing Jareth’s desk, I snuck a glance at Peter. Even hungover, he exuded that same effortless charm that had propelled him to stardom.

Jareth leaned forward, his fingers steepled. “Let’s cut right to the chase. I think we all know why we’re here. Peter, your behavior has continued to be problematic.”

Peter laughed, pushing his sunglasses up to rest on his head. I winced at his bloodshot eyes, knowing that wasn’t helping to argue his case. “Come on, J. This is the music business; partying is expected.”

I cringed at Peter’s familiar tone. “Peter … ” I cautioned.

Jareth held up a hand. “First of all, it’s Jareth, notJ.Second, you’re about to lose me money if you don’t get your fucking act together.”

Peter’s jaw tightened, and his hands gripped the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles whitened. I resisted the urge to reach out and take his hand, even though I recognized the beginning signs of his temper flaring.

“Losingyoumoney,” Peter scoffed. “The Lost Boys fill the stadiums faster than any other band you have.”

---