Page 6 of Fire
“For what they’re being paid,” I emphasize, recalling some of the conversations my dad has had with the bands he represents. “Believe me, they’ll be available.”
“Okay, but what if they don’t treat children? They’re called rock docs for a reason.”
She’s got me there. Most of these docs are probably called in to treat reckless rock stars. Not a snotty toddler. Not that I imagine they’re all that different.
“What if we just hired someone full-time?” I throw out as a last-ditch option because nothing will stop me from going on this tour. I’ll drag my best friend out of this house blindfolded with his arms duct-taped behind his back.
“Hire someone?” Zander raises his brow in interest as he continues that weird thing parents do, gently rocking back and forth without even appearing to notice. It’s so subtle. It’s almost hypnotic.
“Yeah, why not? I’m honestly not sure why Asher hasn’t thought of it before.”
“How would we even find someone like that?” Elena asks as the idea seems to be growing on both of them.Yes.
“Leave it to me,” I say.Leave it to me?What the fuck? “I’ll talk to my dad, and we’ll take care of everything. You guys justfocus on that little angel.” I point to the tiny demon on his shoulder.
“You really think he can get us a qualified doctor this late in the game? One who would be willing to tour for five months and sign an ironclad NDA?”
Fuck, when he puts it like that…
I let out a nervous laugh, hoping they don’t notice the tiny bead of sweat dripping down my temple. “Yup.”
“Great!” Elena exclaims, rubbing her hands together, which makes her look a little like Mr. Burns fromThe Simpsons. “Can we order food now? I’m starving.”
“See?” Z lifts a hand and gestures to his wife. “She’s obsessed with this place. I have to say, though, their churros are fucking amazing.”
“Orgasmic.” Elena corrects him. “They’re fucking orgasmic.”
“Damn, dude.” I chuckle, grateful for the change in conversation. “She just compared a fried dessert to an orgasm. I think you’re slipping.”
“Shut up.” He laughs, but he quickly stops when the sleeping baby—toddler?—shifts in his arms. “Sure you don’t want to stay?” he asks, his voice a bit softer.
“Nah.” I shake my head. “I’ve got plans.”
“Date?” Elena’s brow arches as her head snaps up from the menu that appeared from…actually, I don’t know where. I would call her out for being nosy, but I really don’t have room to talk when it comes to the shit I pulled when these two first met.
To say I meddled would be an understatement.
“Nah, I’m going to this fancy engagement party over in Brentwood.”
“An engagement party? Anyone I know?” Zander asks, continuing to sway back and forth absentmindedly. Does he even know he’s doing it? Probably not.
“Edwin,” I say, carefully gauging his reaction.
His eyes narrow, and Elena’s brown eyes shift between me and her husband. “What? What am I missing?” She then pauses for a moment before asking, “Wait. Isn’t Edwin your former bandmate?”
I nod. “He was the lead singer.”
“Until he decided to go solo and fuck all of them over,” Zander adds, not bothering to mince words.
“Why would you go to his engagement party?” Elena asks, leaning on the counter, the menu forgotten. “Also, what an asshole.”
“Yeah, he is,” I agree. “A total asshole, which is why I haven’t spoken to him in years.”
“And so you thought his engagement party was a good time to drop by and say hello? Why did he even invite you? You didn’t exactly part ways on good terms.”
That’s an understatement, but at least I wasn’t the one to walk away with a black eye.
“He’s marrying some hot model, and he likes to show off. I’m sure all the guys were invited.” Although I doubt any will show. Not that I would know. We haven’t spoken in years, thanks to Edwin.
