Page 2 of Cadence
“Austin didn’t bail,” Beau corrects, exhaling sharply through his nose.
“He didn’t want it as much as we did,” I murmur, the echo of the sharp blow I felt the day he said he was done twisting under my ribs. “He never did.”
I sigh, swallowing the bitter realization that our former drummer thought we were just some teenage garage band, clinging to hopes and dreams of making it big.
“I mean, hedidjust have a baby, Mad,” Eli says, holding up his hands placatingly when I whirl around, glaring at him.
And? Plenty of rock stars balance music and families, so why the hell couldn’t he?
“Exactly,” Beau adds, “Weekend shows were fine for him when we first started out. Playing in venues that maybe meant stayingovernight? He could manage that. But things are different now. A three-month tour with one of the biggest-selling artists in the US? You can’t fault him for wanting to stay home.”
The words hit harder than I expect, some of the resentment I’ve held against him finally ebbing.
Scrubbing both hands down my face, I drag them over the stubble on my jaw before letting them fall into my lap.
“Yeah,” I mutter finally, voice rough. “I know.”
But knowing that doesn’t make it suck any less.
“Plus, I kinda agree with Beau,” Eli says, picking at the frayed arm of the couch. “No one’s going to walk in and magically be like the great Maddox Knox and play like the guitar is an extension of his body.” His blue eyes flick to mine, a smirk quirking his lips. “It might take some work before we’re tour-ready again.”
“Work we shouldn’thaveto put in–”
“Okay, we get it, you’re bitter,” Eli teases with a heavy breath as he stretches his arms over his head. “But what’s done is done. Stop wasting all this energy on shit you can’t change and move the fuck on.”
Groaning, I rub my temples, staving off a raging headache. “Fine. But if this is the best we’ve got, we might as well call it.”
Beau ignores me, running his finger down the audition list. “We’ve got one more. Paige Erikson.”
“She any good?” Eli asks, starting back up his idle strumming.
Beau shrugs. “Her demo was solid.”
Demo or not, that doesn’t mean she’s got the skill to back it up. Studio magic can make anyone sound decent; it’s what happens in this room that matters.
The throbbing in my head worsens, a dull ache pushing behind my eyes. If she’s like the rest, we’ll be done in less than five minutes.
“Whatever,” I grumble. “Tell Thea we’re ready for her.”
Beau fires off a quick text to our manager, and the room slips into a quiet lull; the sound of rock music coming from Eli’s phone breaking up the silence.
“Do you know who we need?” he says, after a beat. “Her.”
He shoves his phone through the gap, scrolling down to another video of the same girl he’s been sharing with us constantly, ever since the day he randomly came across her page months ago. Dressed in leopard-print pants and a black top, she fills the screen, playing along to a Tina Turner track. Her head’s out of frame, her identity a total mystery. There’s nothing distinguishable about her, except that her hands are magic as she moves them across the toms like the kit was built just for her.
Every hit lands, the level of control unlike anything we’ve seen today. There’s no overplaying, no showing off, just her and pure instinct.
It’s sexy as hell. Not just the skill, although that alone is enough to earn respect, but the way shegetsmusic. Lives and breathes it, doesn’t seem to care about attention or ego. And that hits somewhere deeper than I want to admit, because if we could get someone likeher…Opening for Reign Cooper is just the start. One step closer to that coveted label deal.
“Jesus,” Beau mutters, leaning in. “She’s good.”
“Right?” Eli grins.
“Who is it again?” I ask, watching a stick flip mid-air, before it’s caught and crashes onto the cymbal like muscle memory did all the work without her brain knowing what was happening.
Eli shrugs. “No idea. It’s totally anonymous.”
“Cool, a ghost drummer. That fucking helps.” I shake my head and sit back with a groan.
