Page 2 of Tattoos and Heartbreak
Nothinghappened.
“As I said,” I told her, casting a glance at my best friend. “Cagey with the follow-up.”
“Well maybe it takes a second,” she replied, leaning forward and turning the radio on.
“Boy, kids, do I have news for you,” the DJ said immediately. “And you’re not going to want to miss this. In fact, I’m betting you’re going to wish you were able to rewind it and hear it again. That’s how big this is! And the announcement is exclusive to this show right here, because I’ve heard it right from the horse’s mouth. Or from Parker Pelton’s, which is the same thing. Not that she’s a horse, but you know what I mean. The point is, if you don’t know Parker, she’s the manager to country western’s darlings, Avery Dawson and Olivia Johns, plus Connor Wheating, if the rumors are true. And if you don’t know who they are, I don’t know what world you’ve been living in.”
“Not the real world,” Anna breathed. “Get to the point, buddy.”
“The point, then,” the jock—David Hamm, I remembered—went on. “The point is, Avery’s little label is the new home for Olivia and Connor, and in case you haven’t heard, they’re going on tour. Starting next week. They’re taking Global Authors and The Leathers with them and they’re heading from Nashville to Missouri and back. But here’s the kicker. They’re inviting people to follow them the same way fans followed them on their first tour. And there’s more. They’re looking for a new act for Avery’s new label. They’re doing auditions on the road. And they’re asking for small bands to follow them and perform for them.”
I didn’t even hear the rest of what he said. I was too busy jerking the wheel to the side and turning to stare at Anna, my mouth open and my mind screaming through the possibilities. Avery Dawson’s label. Olivia Johns and Connor Wheating. Global Writers. The Leathers.
An invitation to come on tour.
A guaranteed audition.
With a contract as the reward.
“Think we’d have a shot?” I whispered.
Anna, who was wearing the same expression I could feel on my own face, shrugged. “Maybe?”
“Think it’s worth trying?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
A grin stretched itself across my face, so broad that it actually hurt my cheeks. “Are you kidding? Olivia and Connor? On tour? With Global Writers? Rivers Shine, Anna.”
A smile quirked her lips at that, too. “Rivers Shine. The hottest guy in the entire industry, and the rock star you’ve had a crush on since we were fourteen. But he can’t be the reason we’re going, Lila.”
I turned and grabbed the wheel, grasping it and staring at the road ahead of me, seeing, instead of the asphalt of the road back into our neighborhood, an audience stretching out in front of us. A huge stage. People singing our music and cheering for us.
A contract.
Sure, Rivers Shine was great. Insanely hot, all tattoos and brooding heartbreak. A horrible reputation and, by all accounts, the guy who slept with a different girl every freaking night.
I’d always wanted to meet him. I’d always wondered if he was actually as bad—or as hot—as everyone said he was. And if I followed them on the road, I’d definitely get to see him up close and personal.
But I didn’t even care about that.
Because it was going to be way hotter to get in front of Olivia Johns and Connor Wheating and show them exactly what we could do.
“We’re going,” I said sharply. “And we’re going to win that contract.”
“And if we get to ogle Rivers Shine in the meantime?” Anna asked on a sigh.
I shrugged. “It won’t be the worst thing. But it also won’t be what we’re there for.”
And I screeched back out onto the road, my heart hammering in my ribs at what we were about to do—and what it might lead to.
RIVERS
Islammed the door behind me and stalked from one end of my hotel room to the other, hands clenched and heart beating a furious tattoo against my ribs.
God, I hated this gig. I hated all the people and all the cameras and all the fucking reporters all the time. The people expecting me to get out there and play the version of Rivers Shine they knew and thought they loved—all so they could write more articles about how terrible I was and how much I took my life for granted.
I fucking hated them all.
