Page 52 of Show biz

“Weird,” Mav grunts as we follow everyone out. “Why would he react like that? Do you think Layla and Tyler were fucking and Draven heard it? You know how much of a voyeur he is.”

Mav’s voice is so low, I know no one else can hear his rumble. Layla and Tyler are walking ahead of us, but I slow my walk even more.

“I don’t think Layla is really a screamer though,” I scoff. I’ve watched her come when Tyler decided to play with her under the table that first night, and even then I saw that she can be quiet.

“Either way, no one can expect them never to fuck,” Mav chuckles under his breath. “Tyler signed on for a tour, knowing there would be tight spaces and people all around. He is also not shy about teasing, Layla. Fuck, that really was hot.”

It was, but that’s not the point. “Mav,” I warn. “We can’t go down that path, remember?”

Mav huffs and doesn’t respond, and I start to worry. Everything feels like it’s unraveling on me. We made decisions to keep ourselves from Layla, ones that cost us everything, and here we are back again.

I spend the walk to the diner seething, barely talking as we find a booth and order. I’m pretty sure my hash and eggs are stabbed more than their fair share as I eat them as well. This isn’t how things are supposed to be.

Layla smiles and chats, firmly ignoring me and the black cloud that I’m casting over the table. I’m fucking pissed right now that she’s so perky and happy. I want her to be as miserable as I am. I want her to realize there’s no point in happiness because everything can be taken away in the blink of an eye.

Blowing out a breath as we leave the diner after breakfast, I realize my thoughts are dark. Too damn dark. I’m being a damn bully, and five years ago I would have kicked my own ass.

Refocusing, I tell myself I’ll practice and then bounce with Mav. I don’t think he’ll act on his feelings for Layla. If I’m beinghonest, they never went away. For all of the partying, drugs, and alcohol we consumed on tour, Layla Campbell has never disappeared entirely.

Layla’s legging-clad-ass sways in front of me as she walks, her shirt a tease of a crop top. How the fuck does her man let her walk around in that? People keep turning to stare at her, and Tyler doesn’t seem annoyed by it in the least.

Kyle is waiting in the lobby as we walk in, and he smiles at us as he sees us. “The label would like a word later this afternoon,” he says to us. “Today, I figure you could get acquainted and work on the music. I noticed none of you offered to play with Layla yesterday, and let her do all of the heavy lifting. I think a little bit of team building would be helpful.”

“Practicing isn’t team building,” Layla says absently, biting her lip as she thinks. “Is there a certain time the label wants me to call?”

“No, just whenever you’re finished practicing. They want the four of you on the call,” he explains. “The first concert is in just a couple of days, and I figure you’ll want to rehearse at the stadium as well?”

“It’s not something I usually do.” Layla shrugs. “It’s very appreciated though. We’ll take you up on it, thank you.”

As Kyle nods, glancing at his watch and walking off, I approach Layla. My anger is banked now that I’ve maturely recognized it as being unfair, so I trust myself to speak to her.

“Do you think we’ll make you look bad?” I ask. “We haven’t played together in a long time, fine I get it, and you’ve never performed with Draven before. Do you think a dress rehearsal will be necessary?”

“My previous band used to miss their cues on purpose and try to fuck me over,” Layla says, looking tired. “You don’t know any of my new music, and extra practice in such a small period of time can’t hurt. My career is important to me.”

“Who the fuck were these people?” I ask, eyes wide.

“People who felt getting high was more important than the music,” she says. I can see she has a strong aversion to getting high and drugs. I’ve never seen pot as something to avoid, and anything stronger isn’t something I made a habit of doing.

Seeing Lyrica and Draven make a mess of their lives definitely kept me from getting too comfortable with the hard stuff. Pot and alcohol are the only things I regularly use, and I won’t do either before a show. It would mess with the high of performing for me.

“Music is everything,” I tell her simply, meaning it. “Draven, Mav, and I would never show up stoned to a show. Ever.”

Layla stares at me for a moment, her anger at her previous bandmates making her blue eyes appear stormy before she nods. “Okay then,” she says as if that’s exactly how simple it is.

I can hear so much in her voice as she turns away. There’s a warning there for us not to fuck it up, and we follow her back up to the room. Unsurprisingly, our equipment is set up in Layla’s suite, and she rolls her eyes as she sees it.

“Let’s start withNever Againand then go from there,” Layla says as she walks toward the instruments. A part of me wants to demand that she put on real clothes, but I spent the majority of the ride up here telling myself I would attempt to be nice.

“I’m going to check in with the Ahearn brothers, Lay,” Tyler says as he crosses the room to go to what I’m assuming is their bedroom. “They should have started getting a feel for what kind of upgrades the computers and network will need at the label by this point. Yell if you need me.”

The door closes behind him, and Layla simply smiles after him.

“Trouble in paradise?” I ask her before I can bite back the words. “He just kind of left.”

“He’s in the next room,” Layla giggles. “I’m completely capable of surviving without him in the short interim.”

“Love you too, Little Flower,” Tyler calls out to show he can hear us. “No offense, but that doesn’t sound like practicing.”

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