Page 10 of Reverb

He was definitely uncomfortable—I had that effect on people—but he still didn’t drop his gaze. “I’m fine. You?”

“I’m peachy,” I said. “You look kinda busy. Maybe you should go do whatever it is you do.”

“I’m fine here, thanks.”

I narrowed my eyes. On cue, his phone buzzed in his hand, and he looked down at whatever message had come in.

I looked at Roy, who shrugged. Hale was the keeper of the paycheck, so no way was Roy going to kick him out. Roy motioned to the guitar case in my hand. “What are you playing today, Stone?”

“The Strat.” One of the benefits of getting our own studio—and there were many—was that we’d have a secure place to keep our instruments. This studio was a rental, and I’d rather leave my dick here overnight than leave one of my precious guitars.

Roy grinned again. “Can’t wait to hear it. Don’t mind me, I’m just doing my thing.”

I nodded. He had to be here because the money guy was here. I got it.

I strode through the connecting door to the studio proper. Denver was astride a turned-around chair, his head bent over his notebook as he turned a page. Axel was lying on the floor with his legs up the wall and his hands folded over his stomach. Neal had his bass and was working something out on it.

“Wakey, wakey,” Axel said, grinning up at me. “Good morning, O Great One.”

“What’s up with Billy?” I asked, putting down my guitar case and unlatching it.

“We can’t get rid of him,” Denver said without looking up. He turned another page. The Road Kings had never been big on formalities, but after spending ten weeks on the road together, the word hello was no longer in our vocabulary. “I figure he’ll get bored soon and leave.”

“He didn’t look bored,” Neal said, moving his fingers over the frets. “He looked like a permanent fixture.”

“Don’t piss him off, Stone,” Axel said, because he knew I was thinking of doing just that. “We’re supposed to be business partners, remember?”

“Is he gonna write the songs for us?” I took my beloved Fender Stratocaster out of the case and ran my fingers over it as I attached the strap. I fucking loved this guitar. I had four others, too, but I could still remember the day I bought this one. I would legally marry it if I could.

“Ignore him,” Denver said. “I plan to.”

I was coming up with ideas for getting rid of Hale as I tuned my guitar, my mind wandering, when Axel swung his legs down and stood up. “Speaking of business partnerships, Stone, you need to call Sienna.”

That name sliced through my thoughts like a razor blade, again, and I looked up. “What?”

“The interviews,” Axel said. “We’re all doing it. You need to do it, too.”

I hated this. One of the conditions of our deal with Hale was that we all give interviews to Sienna for publication in Soundcheck magazine. Since the Road Kings never gave interviews, it was an exclusive for Sienna and the online magazine. In return, we’d get publicity for the album. It was how the game was played, and if we wanted anyone to know we had a record out, we had to play by the rules.

So we’d agreed. The guys had all softened on Sienna over the course of the tour, anyway. Of course they had, because she was good, and they weren’t stupid. The problem, as always, was me.

“At least talk to Angie about it,” Denver said. “She’s working hard to get this deal in place.”

I wasn’t gonna answer that. The last thing I needed to think about was our new agent and the fact that she’d asked me out to dinner. And that I’d said yes.

I didn’t intend to date Angie. They wanted me to talk to her, right? So I’d talk to her. I didn’t date, and I’d never had a girlfriend for any discernible length of time. I’d been asked out by a former swimsuit model, for fuck’s sake. I could at least not pretend that dinner with her was a hardship.

“Just do the interview,” Neal said, giving me a look. “Sienna is really not that bad.”

“Shut it, Watts,” I said.

“We talked music for over an hour,” Axel said. “The woman really knows her stuff.”

Denver had raised his head and was looking at me, his gaze intent and tinged with amusement.

“What?” I barked at him. “You talked to her, too, Gilchrist?”

“I did, and so did Callie.” He looked even more amused. Callie, Denver’s girlfriend, was smart, intensely private, and gave no shits what anyone thought of her, so for her to give an interview to Sienna was a big deal.

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