Page 21 of Dirty Rock

Julia. He wanted Julia. He wanted her to end this dreadful interview and get us all the hell out of there. This wasn’t the kind of press we needed. This was Hollywood gossip, and we’d been sold a lie.

The five of us were sitting on a row of chairs, with an American morning TV show’s backdrop behind us. Julia wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

Dicky emerged from the shadows, and the bright lights above us highlighted his presence. He leaned into someone on the outskirts who had a piece in their ear and a radio attached to their waist. We didn’t have to hear what he was saying to know that Dicky was telling that person to get this interview in order.

We were about the music, goddammit. Not this teen drama, desperate housewives bullshit.

I sighed… a little too loudly, forcing everyone to turn and look at me.

“What?” I asked as I slumped down in my seat, bored as shit.

The interviewer’s eyes narrowed, and her shoulders went back as her spine straightened. She was a gorgeous woman with bright white teeth, and eyes that lit up the room more than these hot fucking lights did, but she was a journo, and I was honest to God sick of the fucking lot of them and their thirst for scandal. Even if I did think she’d look great beneath me, all sweaty and breathless.

Such a shame that people like her had the ability to make or break bands like us.

Music, man. We were famous for the music.

“Rhett, you’ve been quiet so far,” she said to me, cutting the rest of the guys out as she clenched her clipboard tight, pressing the edge of it into her stomach while it rested on her knees.

“You’ve not asked anything interesting yet,” I told her. “I’m fucking bored.”

The band laughed, and I saw Dicky groan.

“How’s the tour treating you?” the interviewer asked.

“Great. Amazing. The best.” It took all my strength not to roll my eyes.

“Do you miss home life at all? America is a long way from England.”

“Nope. Don’t miss anything.”

“What about anyone?” She beamed, thinking she was clever.

“Maybe my addiction counsellor.”

Her face fell for a split second before her eyes lit up. She opened her mouth to speak, but my laughter cut her off.

“Joking, sweetheart. It’s a joke. There’s nothing happening I can tell you about that’s gonna put you on the front page of every newspaper on the planet. If you’re looking for gossip, I’m the wrong person to talk to.” I leaned forward, clasping my hands together and dropping my elbows to my knees. “But if you want to talk to me about music, I’m happy to give you anything you need. You want to hear about my influences? Shall we discuss the greats? I can always fill your time by talking about how I’d give up a small toe to sing with Corey Taylor, if that helps?”

The interviewer glanced to the side, taking a quick peek at her team before she zoned back in on me.

“It’s nice to see your face is healing, Rhett.”

“Don’t.” I smirked, shaking my head in warning.

“Do you finally want to tell us what happened?”

I sighed. Hard.

I was really trying to help this chick out, but just like the rest of them, she wanted to sell some kind of lie rather than listen to any truths.

“You want to know what happened?” I stared at her.

“I’d love to be able to tell the fans you’re okay.”

“The fans? Yeah? Come on. Be honest.Youwant to know how I got this messed up, sweetheart? You want all the graphic details. How about I press my lips to yours and whisper them so you’re the first to taste my admission?”

“Rhett,” Coops whispered beside me. I ignored him, now focused on this woman in front of me.

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