by Eden Finley
Wait … did I miss something?
Something flashes in Jay’s eyes, but he schools it. “That’s what happens on tour. People get lonely.” He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”
Whoa, he’s fucking the surly, older guy? How did Luce pick up on that?
Maybe while you were ogling Jay’s half-naked body.
Oh, right. Point.
Luce shifts uncomfortably. “Kinda is a big deal. Especially if you’re not really into it?”
“He’s not forcing me to do anything.”
“You’re not exactly pleasant with each other. Doesn’t seem like a healthy relationship, especially between manager and lead singer. I literally spent thirty seconds with you guys and picked up on that.”
“Anyone would. Wayne is a dick,” Jay says, his tone dripping with duh.
I can’t help myself. “So, you’re voluntarily sleeping with him even though he’s a dick?”
“You know, he could be fired for even going there,” Luce says.
Jay sighs. “I don’t want him fired, but as a manager he is super sucky. He says our music isn’t good enough to hit number one and it’s our fault the first album didn’t do well. But that’s not anything different to what the label is telling us too.”
“Yet, you still slept with him,” I say, still not understanding it. Why sleep with someone you hate and who treats you like shit?
“Momentary lapse of self-esteem. Benji and Freya are drama central, and I hate taking sides. When they get along, I hate being the third wheel. Wayne’s there when Benji and Freya aren’t. It’s just sex.” He shudders but scratches his shoulder as if trying to blame the disgust with an itch.
“Sounds more like regret than sex. Sex is supposed to be fun.”
Jay glares at me. “Thanks for the insight. Are you even old enough to be having sex?”
Luce practically chokes trying not to laugh.
“Shut up, you,” I grumble at him and then turn to Jay. “Oh, I’m old enough. And also flexible enough. Just ask him.” I nod in Luce’s direction.
Luce immediately stops laughing now.
There’s nothing funny about Jay’s pissed-off scowl. “My manager can’t fuck me, but you can fuck your assistant?”
“He lied,” I say. “I’m not his assistant. I’m just a fan.”
I hate that I’m disappointed. Jay doesn’t seem like the guy singing his songs at all.
“Let me get this straight. You come to my hotel room to apologise for messin’ up last night by lyin’ and telling me the label doesn’t care about me.” Jay stands. “Well, this has been fun, but I think it’s time for y’all to leave.”
Okay, admittedly I melt a little at y’all. So bloody adorable.
Luce stands too. “Jay, I’ve seen the ugly side of this business. I’ve been in it for fifteen years and worked in a lot of different departments. You might’ve only caught my attention last night, but thanks to this guy”—he gestures to me—“you’re now on my radar and I want to fight for you. If you’ll let me.”
Jay’s hesitant, his eyes flicking between me and Luce. “Benji and Freya too?”
“Yes!” I blurt. “Sorry, Luce. I know I can’t tell you how to do your job, but they can’t be left behind now I know they have something going on. I need to follow this like a soap opera. You’re never getting rid of me now. You’re my connection to Radioactive.”
Luce smiles at that. “Then I guess I better do everything in my power to show the label they need to treat the next big thing better.”
“Ugh. Happy people,” Jay complains. “You two look at each other like my brother does with his husband.”
Luce cocks his head. “How so?”
“Sooo in love,” Jay says. “It’s disgusting.”
My heart sinks. “You don’t believe in love? What about the song?”
“Song?”
“‘He’s Mine’!” I exclaim. “It’s about the love of your life.”
“Common misconception. That song is about my brother.”
I screw up my face. “Eww.”
Jay rolls his eyes. “My brother and his husband.”
I deflate even more. “Oh. That’s less incest-y, so yay.”
“‘Hat Trick Heartbreak’ pretty much explains my love life if you wanna look it up.”
I gasp. “No way.” That song is upbeat but so fucking sad.
“Unfortunately. But I am impressed you know of it. The only evidence of it is a shaky video from a show we did in Ohio.”
I start singing. Badly. “Chasing a dream I want to be real. A heart I’m gonna steal. You fit the mould. The perfect hat trick. But you slipped, and then you flaked. Now you’re nothin’ but my hat trick heartbreak.”
I’ve stunned Jay speechless by my lack of talent, I know this.
Still, his lips twitch. “That was … uh … I think that’s the first time a fan has ever sung me my own words, so thanks for that. I guess.”
Luce chuckles quietly.
“Hey, I’m a genius. Smart people can’t sing.”
“And now you call me dumb.” Jay sighs wistfully. “If only you were single.”
Luce winks at me. “Told you that you could win him over, hon.”
I want to groan. I suck at humaning. This is not how my meeting with Jay was supposed to go.
“Talk to your bandmates,” Luce says to Jay. “If you want me to fight for you, I’d want to sign on as your manager.”
“And I should trust that you’ll do a great job even though it was your event that tanked last night? I should trust you to keep it professional when you burst into my hotel room with a fan who”—Jay glances at me—“doesn’t seem like a fan at all?”
Yay me. I’ve reached a new level of Marty-ism.
“You don’t need to trust me at all,” Luce says. “All you need is to ask yourself if I can do more for you than Wayne can.”
Jay stands and offers his hand for Luce to shake. “Easy answer. We’re in. Benji and Freya hate Wayne more than I do.”
Luce shakes his hand but holds it before he lets go. “Still, talk to them without making a decision first. You want them involved, so they get a say.”
Jay’s smile is blinding. “I will do that. And I have to say, even if you woke me up, have a mouthy boyfriend, and screwed up last night, I have a good feeling about you.”
Luce hands him a business card. “I’ll get the ball rolling. Call me as soon as you’ve spoken to the band without Wayne.”
Jay holds up the card. “Will do.”
8
Luce
As soon as we hit the corridor of the hotel and the door clicks shut behind us, I throw myself against a wall. Any wall.
“I can’t believe I just did that.”
Marty approaches, his hands going to my waist. At first, I think it’s to help hold me up, but then his warm lips are on mine, his tongue seeks entrance, and he moans into my mouth.
I wrap my arms around him and hold him to me, but he pulls back.
“You handled that really well.”
It’s impossible to stop the smile from taking over my face. “Thank you. I still can’t believe it. I might’ve just fucked everything up, but I’m excited.”
“I’m guessing this isn’t as easy as walking up to your bosses and saying you’re taking over managing the band.”
“Considering I’m not even in band management, yeah, no, it’s not that easy.” My hands trail down to his ass. “But I don’t want to think of the logistics now. I want to celebrate.”
“Mmm, and how did you want to do that?”
“I have a few ideas … most of which would be illegal in public, but first I want to take you on our second date.”
Marty fans himself. “Two dates in twelve hours. I am a lucky boy.”
“That is, unless you want to go back in there and offend your idol some more. Do you have some sort of condition where you blurt out everything on your mind?”
He gives an adorable little shrug. “It
comes from years of not speaking my mind. I realised one day that life’s too short to put up with bullshit, but maybe now I’m too much on the other end of the spectrum. I can’t believe I talked to Jay like that.” His head falls on my shoulder. “I’m an idiot.”
“Even with your mouthy attitude, I could tell he liked you. Maybe too much for my liking.”
Marty raises his gaze, and he smiles. “Can I confess something to you?”
“Intriguing …”
“I—”
The elevator dings, and Wayne and the two I assume are Benji and Freya step off.
Marty and I quickly jump apart but probably a little too late.
Wayne appears indifferent, and the other two narrow their eyes at us.
“These are the suits?” Benji asks.
Meanwhile, beside me, Marty’s trying not to jump up and down in excitement. A little “Eeee” comes out of him, and fuck, I love how passionate he is. It really isn’t about boning the lead singer, who I have to admit has some charm underneath his bitterness, but about their music.
Marty seems to be fanboying just as hard over Benji and Freya as he was with Jay.
“Luce Riley,” I say and hold out my hand to Benji.
He shakes it but still seems wary.
“I’ve already spoken to Jay about what happened last night. He can fill you in.”
“Are we getting dumped from the label?” Freya asks.
It makes me want to pin Wayne up against a wall and tell him to stop being such a shithead. He probably likes putting these guys down to make him feel more superior and important. Managers shouldn’t be like that. Bands need all the support they can get. Managers aren’t just there to tell the band where they have to be and when. They also have to sell the band. Book gigs and events. If a manager thinks a bigger and better act will come along, I guarantee it will because this is a fickle industry. You could be on top one day and gone the next. Just like that.
Radioactive needs someone to believe in them, and after just one night, after hearing just one song, I’m more invested in Jay’s band than their current manager.
“You’re not being dropped,” I assure her.
A warm hand intertwines with mine. “It was lovely meeting you all, but we have to get going. A lot of bands we have to grovel to today after last night’s fuck-up.”
“Wait, that’s why you’re here?” Benji asks.
“Talk to Jay,” I say and get on the elevator they vacated.
I almost let out a “Hope to see you all soon” before the doors close, but I don’t want anything to tip off Wayne of the band’s plans. Especially while in a foreign country.
The small niggle in the back of my brain tells me that if they do take me on as their manager, I’m going to have to pack up and move countries, and the part of me that’s still hung up on last night protests at leaving.
Which is ridiculous. I haven’t even known Marty a full day. He shouldn’t even factor into this kind of decision.
But he is the reason I’m here at all, trying to chase a dream a decade old.
“Brunch?” he asks with an adorable smile.
“A quick one. I need to get you back to my place as fast as possible.”
“I like the sound of that.”
We don’t make it to brunch. Hell, we barely survive driving to the restaurant, which is why I’m pulled off to the side of the road, while Marty sucks hard on my dick.
As soon as we got in the car and I started driving, Marty reached for my suit pants and unzipped them, muttering something about payment for introducing him to Jay.
Who was I to deny that?
“Fuck, I love your mouth,” I say.
I can’t get over how hot Marty looks with my dick sliding in between his big, pouty lips.
“Take your cock out. I want to see you get yourself off.”
Marty doesn’t stop working me over while he unbuttons his jeans. Only when he has to get his pants down does he release me so he can pull himself free.
If anyone was to walk by, there’s no way they wouldn’t know what we’re doing.
My head’s thrown back on the headrest, and now Marty’s bare ass is facing the window while he leans over me and sucks me down to the base.
His hand on his own cock strokes lazily, but his mouth is working overtime.
“You must really appreciate meeting Radioactive.”
“Mmhmm,” he hums, sending vibrations through me.
“I’m close,” I warn.
Apart from the radio, which I couldn’t tell you what song was playing if my life depended on it, Marty’s slurps and my heavy breathing are the only other sounds to fill the car.
Marty’s breathing joins mine in being stilted and erratic, and when I glance over to where he’s stroking himself, I can’t hold my orgasm back.
His cock is leaking like crazy, the wet head sliding in and out of his hand with ease, and I let my release go, the visual too much for my poor little brain to handle.
After he swallows my release, he pulls away and slinks into his seat while he jerks himself.
His back arches, his thighs tense, and I can tell he’s close, so I quickly lean over him, sucking him into my mouth just as the heady flavour of cum hits my tastebuds.
I keep licking him clean until he puts his hand in my hair and forces me away.
Our chests heave, and I swallow his taste down. My eyes are closed, my head resting back on my seat.
A chuckle comes from beside me. “Great brunch.”
“Awesome brunch. But I’m still taking you for croissants.”
“Mmm, cum and French food. Most perfect date ever.”
We tuck ourselves away, and Marty uses the sun visor mirror to fix the mess I did of his hair.
I take his hand and bring it to my lips before dropping it to my thigh and steering the car back onto the road.
An 11OZ song comes on, and Marty grunts. “Ugh.” He reaches for the radio, but I stop him.
“Wait …” There’s something in the catchy beat that gives me an idea. “Didn’t Eleven Ounces just announce their worldwide tour, but supporting acts haven’t been determined yet? I swear I read that. Or heard it somewhere.”
“Okay, if you tell me you’re a boyband fan, you’re about to lose all your musical cred and all of my respect. I mean, you were skirting the line with Green Day, but Eleven? Hell no. They’re worse than One Direction.”
I laugh. “I’m not big on boybands, no, but … hear me out, okay? Radioactive’s sound is emo-ish, a little pop rock, with a dash of grunge, yeah?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Jay has a serious identity problem, but they have a sound that will speak to emotional teenagers—”
“I’m not a fucking teenager. Fun fact, and this may shock you, I’m two years older than Jay.”
I love how defensive he gets over his young looks even if he is frustrated by it. “I wasn’t actually talking about you. Just in general. And granted I’ve only heard one of Radioactive’s songs, but the impact of that one song would kill with the teen demographic. What’s that ‘Heartbreak’ song you were singing? Terribly, I might add, but the lyrics were good.”
Marty reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “The only recording of it is a pretty shitty one from one of their shows, but it’s got an angry edge to it. It’s basically about not being good enough and telling the person walking away that he’s making a big mistake.”
I glance over to see him open the YouTube app and pull up the video.
He’s right about the quality being shitty. I have to glance back at the road, but I can still listen.
The hunch in my gut gets stronger with every note Jay belts into the microphone. It’s peppier than “He’s Mine” but has grittier lyrics. It’s perfect. Because if there’s one thing teenage girls love more than love, it’s the drama that follows a breakup.
“I need to get Radioactive hooked up with Eleven somehow. Like what 1D did for Five Seconds of Summer.
”
“That’d put them in boyband territory. I don’t see Jay going for that.”
“A worldwide stadium tour? Yeah, he’d turn that down,” I say sarcastically. “Plus, there’s a girl. Therefore, no boyband.”
“Okay, but isn’t the appeal to that demographic wanting to hook up with the lead singer? Jay’s out; there’s no shoving him back in a closet.”
“All the girls will want to be his best friend.”
“If you say so.” Marty shifts in his seat.
“Plus, Benji’s hot, so …” I cock my head at him. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing. I’m being stupid.”
“Since when don’t you speak your mind no matter what?”
“You’ve known me a day …”
“And I knew within ten minutes of meeting you that you don’t hold back, so don’t do it now.”
He side-eyes me. “Okay, but you asked for it. You’re about to realise how batshit crazy I am.”
“Not gonna lie. I’m pretty sure you can’t shock me.”
Marty punches my arm but not hard. Well, too hard.
“Ouch. Driving here.”
“So here’s the thing. I want Radioactive to be huge. I want everyone to love them like I do … but … I also want them to be mine. I don’t want them to be ruined by mainstream shit with bad lyrics and boyband dance moves.”
I burst out laughing. “You just want to claim them. I can see it now. In a few years when they’re big and famous, you’re going to be telling people, ‘I loved them before they were cool.’”
“Exactly!”
I smile. “I don’t think that’s batshit crazy. It’s adorable.”
Marty folds his arms and sulks. “I’m not adorable, fuck dammit.”
“No. Of course not. The way you spoke to Jay wasn’t adorable as fuck either.”
He throws his head back. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. Though … I have to kinda admit I wasn’t exactly swept off my feet by him.”
“Calling him out for sleeping with his manager and then implying he’s dumb probably didn’t help.” I snicker.
