Page 5 of Hollow Heart

I hate that they remind me of what I don’t have. What fucking left me.

“Okay, that’s enough, Felix. Get in position.”

I roll my eyes, giving Duncan my back.

“Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

CHAPTER 3

Duncan

The manin front of me is not at all what I would have pictured when I agreed to audition.

For starters, he’s nearly as tall as me, and I’m a blessed six foot two. But on him, it’s all lean muscle and sinuous frame, likely from a steady diet of drugs and drinking.

His bleached blond hair boasts a slick sheen at his dark roots, which combined with the dark circles under his eyes and the way he keeps twitching, tells me he’s probably on a bender.

I watch as he slides his aqua Fender on, his chipped black nails absentmindedly strumming as he grumbles something unintelligent.

He’s got tattoos from his knuckles all the way up to his neck. The hot pink sleeveless tee he’s wearing looks like it’s been through the ringer, too.

His attitude is foul, and reminds me of some of the assholes I used to deal with on a regular basis when I was a lot younger.

Or one asshole, in particular.Issax Perregrine, lead singer of Hollow Pointe.

And apparently, this Ken-Goes-Punk-Doll hatesHollow Pointe.

Of fucking course.

Nevertheless, I am a professional, and I need this gig. So I shut out my own disdain, and focus on the task at hand, which shouldn’t be too hard.

I glance up at my sheet music, waiting for the okay from Lou.

His round face peers at me from the other side of the sound booth glass.

“All right, boys, show time.”

The light goes out, and I flip my switch. Felix strums his guitar, and I keep up to his erratic playing to the best of my ability. The other two chug along as well, though they don’t bother trying to keep up with Felix.

Despite his erratic playing, I can tell he’s pretty good, because Issax,Hollow Pointe’s second frontman, used to play like absolute shit when he was drunk or high.

At least Felix can somewhat keep the notes on time with my beat.

Then he opens his mouth.

“You make me weak, make me bleed, baby, I’m a sucker for you. You tie me up, you break me down, baby, cause you’re a sucker for me.”

His vocals are raspy, edged in a husky slur as he talk-sings.

I keep up with his notes, beating out the rhythm, and think so far, so good.

Until the door flies open and all I see is a flash of black.

“What the fuck, Felix?” A gravelly, agitated voice echoes in the room as the door the sound booth opens with a harsh bang.

Felix’s entire body tenses as he comes up against this other man’s chest.

The guy is also tall, but unlike Felix’s wiry frame, he’s built.

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