Page 13 of Reverb
She downed the rest of her bourbon in one gulp. “Thank you for showing me those. And for saying what you said to the guys, that I should know.”
“They care about you.”
She snorted. “Don’t I know it. And it’s mutual. They’re my fucking family, all I have.” That was the bourbon was talking. “Shit. I should eat.” And sleep, and de-stress.
“I should stop taking up your personal time.” There was regret in David’s voice. At being here or at leaving? Hard to say. But he rose and dusted his hands on his jeans. “Thanks for the hospitality. I concur with Ray...this is a lovely place. Very you, and secure, too.”
She climbed to her feet and saw David to the elevator. Felt like she should hug him, would’ve if he’d been one of the guys. He was new, even if he felt comfortable and fit in as a part of this group. Hugging would meantouching. There was danger there, lurking in her body’s reaction and in the looks David sometimes gave her.
The whole attraction thing went both ways, but she wasn’t about to start shacking up with her bodyguard. She’d watched the damn musical. She knew howthatended.
Thankfully, the elevator came and whisked David Altet away, at least for the night.
Chapter Four
Knowledge was dangerous, Mish realized, and sometimes ignorancewasbliss. In the days that followed learning about those emails, she found the calm that usually engulfed her on the commutes to and from practice—even with the photog following her—had been shattered. Becausehecould be there. The stalker, and she wouldn’t fucking know, despite her general awareness of danger.
She’d yet to spot the fucker. Spent a lot of time looking, too.
At practice, the tension slipped away when they started playing. The music was a haven for them all—always had been. Dom danced, strutted, and played, Ray sang his heart out, and Zavier lost himself in the intricate rhythms he beat out. Hell, Mish found herself singing along on most of the songs, sometimes harmonizing with Ray, other times just singing along like a fan might.
She fucking loved all their songs.
Halfway through “Finding Light,” Ray broke off. “Wait, wait...”
They all came to a halt, and Dom and Zavier looked as surprised as Mish. “What’s up, kiddo? That sounded great!”
“I know, I know.” Ray danced around, hopping from one foot to the other. “I loved it. But I wanna try something different.”
Zavier tapped on his kit. “We’re all ears.”
Ray spun in place, his grin wide and eyes full of energy. He came to a stop when his gaze landed on Mish. “How about you singing on this one? ’Cause I really liked the sound. It looked—itfeltgreat!”
Her pulse quickened a bit. “You mean backup vocals?”
Ray shook his head and that smile became toothy. Little shocks of hope fizzed down Mish’s limbs. Fuck yes.Finally.
“A duet. You and me. We trade off verses or lines or whatever seems to work the best. You guys up for that?”
“God, Ray...” she breathed. “You know I am.”
Before she’d joined Twisted Wishes, she used to sing her own sets. Sometimes she lent her voice to Ray’s on tour, but it wasn’t the same as singing in her own right. She’d never pushed it with Ray, ’cause his voice was so damn unique, like his vision.
But if he were offering her the chance? Hell yes.
Dom nodded, and Zavier’s “Of course” put a stamp of approval on the idea.
Ray worked to set up a mic for her—they could’ve had techs at practice, but they were used to doing this shit alone, so they only used them for recording and live shows. The only other people in the studio were Adrian and David.
“Hey, Adrian?” she called over to him.
“Hmm?” He looked up from whatever book he’d been reading, a half smile on his lips. David had been browsing on his phone, and he too looked up.
“Don’t tweet about me singing.”
“Oh shit, yeah.” Ray fixed a mic to the stand. “Let’s keep this to ourselves. I’m sure it’s gonna work, and it can be a surprise on tour.”
Singing on stage, on tour, in her own right. She caught Ray’s gaze. He was vibrating, or maybe she was. “You sure, kiddo?” She didn’t want to steal his thunder, even though she was dying to belt out their songs.
