Page 2 of Broken Bridges

“Not good.” Hayden grimaced and scratched the side of his cheek. “Flint and the guys just haven’t been impressed by anyone. They auditioned twelve people yesterday and have seen nine bassists today. You’re the last one.”

“Shit. Are their expectations unrealistic?” They had a right to be high. Finding someone to replace Phil, Flint’s brother, who’d been killed in a car accident, would be tough. I could only do my best.

“I don’t think so.” Hayden shrugged. “They’re just looking for an edge in someone. When they hear it, see it, feel it, they’ll know. When it’s right, it’s right.”

“Here’s hoping. I’ve flown my ass to LA, so I’m gonna give it my best shot.”

“Damn right you will.”

I glanced over his shoulder but couldn’t see anyone inside the studio. “Do they know we know each other?”

“Yes. They recognized our old band on your application.” He shot up his palms. “But I promise, I’ve said nothing to influence their decision. You have the talent and skill, so knock ’em dead with some of that magic you used to churn out when we jammed.”

“Magic, huh?” It would be nice to experience that again.

“You got this.” Hayden placed his hand on my shoulder and gave me an encouraging nudge. “Go break a leg. We’ll head out for a beer afterwards.”

“I look forward to it.” It would be nice spending two days here in LA with him at Kyle and Gemma’s house before he headed to London for gigs. We needed a good catch up.

Hayden opened the door wider for me. I picked up my gear and stepped inside.

This was just another audition.

Just a couple of songs.

No.

Grit set in my gut.

My life was a mess. I needed a fresh start.

I needed a new band and music to breathe.

I wanted this.

This had to happen.

It’s showtime!

Chapter 2

LEWIS

I sucked in a deep breath and walked into the studio’s huge rehearsal space. I spun around slowly, taking in the drums, guitars, keyboards, mics, amps, and speakers. Holy crap! This place was incredible, all light and bright and clean. Beat the hell out of the dingy basement I used to practice in.

“Good luck.” Hayden slapped me on the back then joined the guys at the far end of the room. Flint, Cole, and Slip, a.k.a. Sebastian—the members of The Flintlocks, Blake— their manager, and Kyle—Everhide’s bassist, stood huddled around a desk, talking.

“Give us one sec,” Flint called out. “Can you patch in there by the drums, please?”

“Sure.” I took a long second to eye him up and down. Dressed in tight black jeans and a white T-shirt, and with jet-black hair and icy blue eyes, Flint was hot as fuck. But he had a girlfriend, Sutton. I’d done my research...on all of them.

“You need anything?” Kyle hollered.

I shrugged off my denim jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Just being in the same room as Kyle raised my body temperature. It had always done that since I’d met him twelve years ago via Hayden. The guy had a charisma and manner that did it for me. Pity he was straight. “No. Thanks, Kyle. I’m good.” If my nerves could disappear, I’d be fucking great.

Whatever the men were talking about had them hurtling fiery whispers at each other. Were they frustrated over the auditions and unable to agree on a bassist? One or more of them liked the previous girl but the others didn’t? Were they just over the long day and tired?

Maybe all the above.

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