Page 117 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

I nodded to Jamie. “She’s the jukebox. Give her enough whiskey and she’ll play until dawn.”

Jamie leaned down for her bottle of water and took a sip. “I can do it sober too. But Lindz can keep up with me even without her wine.”

I shrugged and hummed, “One of These Nights” to Jamie’s strumming.

“Is this what we’ll hear tonight at United Center?” Bobby asked.

I leaned into my mic. “We tend to do a cover song or two, but our own catalog is pretty extensive. Packs a two-hour show pretty quick.”

“How has it been with two female lead singers touring together? Wet T-shirt contests? Hair pulling? Give us the dirt.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Molly McIntire has been a gem. We all get along really

well.” Too well based on the hangover I was still feeling even after our greasy breakfast.

Not that the hangover was Molly’s fault. I wasn’t even sure who had first pushed a drink into my hand. We’d all partied together at different times of the night.

“That’s no fun,” Bobby muttered.

“We don’t need that kind of dirt when we have it on good authority you are heading up a star-studded cast of artists for Logan King’s new Christmas album.”

My smile slid away. “Not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, really?” Shay turned toward me. “I heard you had to bail out the ever-testy Alexander Nash and Logan King because of an overdose.”

“Excuse me?” I moved away from her until I perched on the edge of the couch.

That soundbite made it seem like Nash was the one who’d overdosed. Probably exactly the point.

Shay chuckled. “We’re all friends here. You can give us the skinny.”

Ugh. “Logan and Nash are beyond professional.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, not the gentleman, but another artist. Angel Martin has been the lead of that project for months. Now all of a sudden it’s radio—pardon the pun—silence. And Angel Martin’s people haven’t been returning phone calls.”

Shit.

I hadn’t been prepared for an ambush. Logan and Nash hadn’t even given me talking points about the album, let alone about Angel.

“I can’t speak for Angel. As for Logan’s project, I almost always do a song for the holiday album. Why would this year be any different?”

“You said before that you weren’t doing it this year,” Bobby chimed in.

For once, they’d actually researched? What the flying fuck? “Well, we had a week off for a wedding in Warning Sign’s band.” I forced myself to keep my voice light. To inject a smile into the discussion. Most importantly, to steer them away from shit I didn’t want to talk about.

Jamie laughed. “You should have seen all of us piling onto Donovan Lewis’s jet—you know, the billionaire hottie who’s kinda technically our boss…” She bared her teeth in a menacing smile.

All I needed to do was to give her a signal and she’d go for the jugular. I gave her a little shake of my head and Jamie infused her voice with a level of sweetness I knew would probably kill her.

Jamie leaned down to tuck her acoustic back into her case. “So, yeah, we headed to the tropics. I’m always up for staying on tour, but dump me on a sandy beach with hottie Hawaiian dudes and I’m here for it. Wasn’t a hardship to have a little downtime with pineapple drinks.”

“So, that’s when you went to New York instead?” Shay’s usual day host friendliness was missing. Her eyes were as dark and dangerous as a shark’s. Was she angling for a new goddamn job?

“Not like you to chase gossip, Shay.”

“Is it gossip though?”

“I went to the wedding, then I spent some time in New York recording a song for charity. You know, the King Foundation that we were more than happy to help for the auction you have coming up.”

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