Page 67 of Feral Touch
Ren agreed easily. The three of us followed him in a line like ducklings, Jen and Nat at the back no doubt trying not to throw up from nerves.
The first thing I noticed were two identical faces. Twins? Their brown hair stood up from their heads in soft looking tufts, the same style on both. They were chatting with a third man who had platinum blond hair. It looked real, not from a bottle.
The other two band members seemed to be wrestling with each other. The one with fire engine hair had a mad grin on his face. He had thrown his arms around the scowling fifth member of the band, not letting him get away as much as he struggled.
“Hey, look who it is!” Red Hair called out, still holding onto his squirming band mate. “Ren, finally going to introduce us to your girl?”
That got the other members’ attention, aside from platinum blond. He seemed absorbed in thought, looking off at nothing in particular. The twins, however, nearly chortled with wicked glee.
“Is that her?” one of them asked.
“She’s cute,” the other said, a devilish look in his eyes.
“Her friends are even cuter.”
“I call dibs on the classy one.”
“I call dibs on the cute one.”
“Or both at once,” the two twins chimed in together, sharing identical smirks.
I could almost hear Nat gulp. Jen squeaked.
My phone rang and I pulled it out of my pocket, confused. No one ever called. Everything was always through messaging. I turned away from the others so I could hear, leaving my friends at the mercies of seductive, teasing rock stars.
“Hello?”
“Hello, this is Faith from LuxurEvents. Am I speaking with the Ivy who auditioned with cello a few months ago?”
“Yes, that's me,” I replied, surprised.
“Wonderful. Ivy, I'm calling to offer you a job.”
I froze in shock.
“Although we went with someone else, you were honestly always our first choice. One of our higher-ups insisted we hire an acquaintance of theirs. Unfortunately, that hire didn't work out. Lucky for you, this opens up a position. Are you still interested?”
I could barely mumble an affirmative response.
“Wonderful. I'll email you the details and a contract. You can sign it electronically or print it off and fax it to us. I look forward to working with you. You're a very talented musician.”
“Th-thank you,” I stuttered.
The events woman, Faith, hung up with a cheerful goodbye.
“Ivy? What's wrong?”
Ren gave me a worried look as I stood there with my phone still to my ear, unmoving.
“I got offered a job,” I said numbly.
His eyes lit up. “That's great! Which one?”
“The event one. They said I was their first choice.” I couldn't make my tongue work well enough to recount the whole conversation. “They're going to send me a contract.”
Ren grabbed me by the waist and swung me around. I yelped and clung onto his neck. “See? I told you.”
“Told me what?”
