HALO (Fallen Angel Book 1)

by Ella Frank

  “Halo!” Imogen yelled. “I know you’re in there. Open up!”

  No doubt my sister had been looking through her peephole to see when I’d gotten in, which was how she’d made it up here so fast. Perks of living in the same building as your sibling—not.

  I barely had the door open before Imogen said, “Finally. How’d it go? Tell me everything. Did they love—” But when she got a good look at my face, her smile dropped. “Oh no. What happened?”

  Without a word, I left the door open and headed into the kitchen—or what passed for a kitchen in my tiny apartment, anyway. There was enough room for a small sink, two burners, and a mini fridge, which was fine considering I didn’t cook ever. I grabbed a beer out of the fridge, and as I popped the tab, Imogen’s green eyes widened.

  “You’ve been gone for hours. And…you’re drinking? Oh, Halo…” She followed me to the couch, and when I collapsed onto the worn cushions, she took the seat beside me, not giving me an inch. “You’re killing me here. Did you lose your voice or something?”

  I almost wished I had. Would’ve been easy to keep my mouth shut.

  Flipping the tab back and forth until it broke off between my fingers, I kept my eyes on the cold can instead of having to see the disappointment that would fill Imogen’s eyes when I told her what happened. “I fucked up.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Nothing’s impossible, trust me.”

  “You’re the best singer, performer, musician I know, and that’s totally not me being biased, so I think maybe you’re being too hard on yourself.”

  “It wasn’t the audition that was the problem. I killed it.” I thought back to the look Viper had given me as he asked the final question, the one that had put the nail in my coffin. “Let’s just say sometimes I should think before I speak.”

  “Oh, Halo, you didn’t.”

  “Yuup.” I swallowed several gulps of beer and then lay back, resting my arm over my eyes.

  “Hey, maybe it wasn’t that bad. What did you say?”

  “They asked what I’d change about the band.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Yeah. And telling them I should be their frontman didn’t exactly get a good reaction.”

  “Wait. What?” Imogen pulled my arm away from my face. “Is that all?”

  “What do you mean is that all? They practically shoved me out the door after that.”

  Imogen stared at me for a long moment before busting out laughing.

  I sat up, glaring. “What the hell’s so funny?”

  “You.” She wiped her eyes and shook her head at me. “Did they tell you to have a nice life?”

  “They said they’d be in touch.”

  “They’d be in touch? You dumbass. That’s a good thing.” As I lifted the beer to my lips, she swiped the can from me and set it on the ground beside her. “Listen, we need a come-to-Jesus here, okay? Look at me.”

  I rolled my eyes but tilted my head in her direction.

  “I’m just gonna be blunt here. I get you’re hard on yourself. That’s why you’re as good as you are, because you push hard and you don’t take no for an answer. That’s why you told them they need you as their singer. Hello, you were honest. You know you’ll make them better. And you know what? They don’t want some pussyfooting wallflower on stage with them—they want the confident badass who flat-out tells them he’s the best.”

  I blinked at Imogen. With her long red hair draped around her shoulders in waves, and with her emerald eyes flashing, she looked the epitome of the feisty redhead you always heard about, and at this moment, she sounded like one too. I didn’t even get a chance to respond before she was firing off another question.

  “So which one got in your head? Was it Slade? You know he only looks scary, right? I’ve heard he’s actually a nice guy.”

  I thought back to the meeting, and how all the guys had, at one point or another, laughed and cut up with each other…all but one.

  “There,” Imogen said. “I see it all over your face. Who?”

  “Viper was…interesting.”

  “Interesting? You mean freakin’ hot.”

  “I wasn’t really looking.”

  “Yeah, but you can admit when you know another guy’s good-looking. And Viper? He’s, like, outrageously hot.”

  “I get it. You think he’s hot. Maybe he also gets off on giving others a hard time, because that guy didn’t smile once.”

  “Well, if you believe Entertainment Daily, he gets off often.” Imogen winked at me, and when I gave her a shove, she laughed.

  My cell vibrated in my pocket, and as I pulled it out and saw the number on the screen, I broke into a cold sweat. “Shit.”

  “Who is it?”

  I looked up at her. “Killian.”

  “What?” she shrieked. “Answer the damn phone!”

  “But—”

  “Answer. The. Phone.”

  Oh God. Here it was. The thanks but no, thanks line I’d been dreading all day. I brought the phone to my ear and closed my eyes like I could block out what he was about to say.

  “Hello?”

  “Halo, it’s Killian.”

  “Hi,” I said, and licked my lips, ready to throw out an apology. “Listen, I’m—”

  “Available tomorrow at eleven?”

  My eyes flew open. “What?”

  “We all think you’re great, and we’d like to see where this thing can go.”

  The blood rushing in my ears almost drowned out his words, and I needed to make sure I’d heard him right, because it sounded like he’d said—

  “You want me?”

  Killian chuckled. “You sound surprised.”

  “Uh, yeah.” Imogen was bouncing on the couch, her hands over her mouth to stop from squealing.

  “Don’t be. You fuckin’ rocked it, man. We can’t wait to hear what else you can do.”

  Holy shit, this was happening. I hadn’t screwed things up after all, which meant they hadn’t been offended by my answer, and Viper hadn’t blackballed me.

  I’ll be damned…

  “So eleven tomorrow, yeah?” Killian said. “We’ll be rehearsing at my place. Got a pen?”

  I mimicked writing in the air to Imogen, and she jumped up and ran off to grab a pen. When she came back with a paper towel and a marker, I wrote down the address Killian rattled off and told him I’d be there at eleven sharp. It didn’t occur to me until I ended the call that I had Killian Michaels’s address in my lap. Not only that, but I’d just been invited to join the band on a trial basis.

  My mouth moved, but I couldn’t find the words. Imogen let out the scream she’d been holding back, grabbing hold of me and shaking me in excitement.

  “Oh my God, Halo,” she said, a huge grin on her face. “So you’re in?”

  Dazed, I gripped the back of my neck, a smile slowly creeping across my lips. “I’m in.”

  Seven

  Halo

  THE NEXT MORNING, I stepped off the elevator of Killian’s building and onto the penthouse floor, my guitar in hand and a backpack slung over my shoulder. It felt strangely like the first day of school, all anticipation and excitement and nerves battling it out, especially in such a swanky setting. As I looked up and down the hall, I noticed there was only one door on this floor, which meant Killian’s place took up the whole thing.

  I blew out a breath as I knocked on the door, determined to walk in there as an equal. There was a reason I’d been asked back, and I needed to show these guys that they’d made the right choice.

  The door swung open and Killian cocked a grin at me, resting his arm against the doorjamb.

  “Hey, man. You ready for this?”

  Something about the way Killian said it made me think he knew I thought I was in over my head but wasn’t about to show it, so I answered honestly.

  “Is anyone ever ready for it?”

  He laughed and moved off the door. “Fuck no. Just gotta wing it.”

  “Fake it till you
make it,” I said, stepping inside as he shut the door behind me.

  “Exactly. See, you’re more prepared than we were when we started out.” He led us into a huge open room with red walls and exposed beams that seemed to be a combination of living areas, the kitchen and dining room, and an entertainment area. None of the other guys seemed to be around, and as Killian rounded the oversized granite island in front of the refrigerator, he said, “So what’s your poison? I’ve got coffee, tea, sodas, and a full bar.”

  “Water’s good for now.”

  He handed me a bottle from the fridge and pointed out where everything was. “I’ll give you a tour later, but this is where we rehearse, so make yourself at home.”

  I looked around, curious as to where, because I didn’t see any instruments, and a drum kit wasn’t something you wanted to lug around all the time.

  Like he could see what I was thinking, Killian laughed and shook his head. “Not literally in here. We soundproofed a room through there.” He pointed out a towering wooden door to our left, and after pouring coffee into a tumbler, he nodded for me to follow him.

  I’ve got this. No need to be starstruck. They’re just normal guys…normal guys who’ve sold millions of records and live in penthouse apartments. No big deal.

  As I stepped inside the rehearsal space, I saw the others tuning their instruments, snickers ringing out as Jagger said something that made them roll their eyes. Compared to the rest of the penthouse, the room was surprisingly simple. Carpeted floors, wood walls, and framed black fabric-wrapped panels on the walls to absorb the sound. Nothing fancy, just their instruments and a couple of leather couches and chairs against a wall.

  Slade saw me first and lifted his drumsticks in greeting, and then Jagger’s and Viper’s heads turned my way.

  You’re the fucking frontman, I told myself, straightening, and then I nodded at the guys. “Hey.”

  “Halo, my man,” Jagger said, grinning and holding out his fist. I set down my guitar case and then bumped his fist with mine. A few feet away, Viper stood watching us, his arms crossed over his guitar.

  “Viper,” I said in greeting.

  He inclined his head ever so slightly. “Angel.”

  “It’s Halo.”

  Viper smirked. “Same thing.”

  Okaaay, so obviously Viper hadn’t warmed up much to the idea of having me onboard since yesterday, but he hadn’t told me to fuck off either, so I figured he’d come around. Eventually.

  “So let’s get started,” Killian said, rubbing his hands together. Excitement sparked the air around him, and I wondered how long it’d been since they’d come together in this space to rehearse. Had any others who’d auditioned before me been invited here? Was I the first? And more importantly, would I be the last?

  I set my guitar case and backpack off to the side, swallowed some water, and took my place behind the main mic stand. I wasn’t sure if I’d be playing a guitar like Trent had on occasion, or if they wanted me just to sing, but I’d brought my own in case.

  “We’re gonna start with the Daybreak album, since that’s the most recent,” Killian said, stacking a few sheets of paper that contained lyrics on the stand in front of me. When I opened my mouth to protest that I didn’t need them, he held his hand up. “I know you said you’re familiar with the songs, but even we forget the lyrics sometimes.”

  Right. Good point. It would be worse forgetting a line in front of these guys than having to look at the words in front of me.

  “Thanks,” I said, as Killian moved to my left and strapped on his bass guitar.

  “‘Crossroads,’” he called out to us. I glanced down to make sure that was the lyric page on top as Slade counted us down to the intro. When he launched into a heavy beat, a thrill shot through me, goosebumps popping up all over my skin. If I’d thought yesterday’s audition had been surreal, it had nothing on what was happening at that moment, when the others began to play. Their sounds blended together so perfectly that for a moment, I was frozen in awe, completely blanking out on the fact that I had a role to play.

  Killian held his hand up when I missed my cue and the music stopped. Then he raised an eyebrow at me. “Everything okay?”

  “Shit, sorry,” I said, but I was unable to stop the huge grin from taking over my face. “That was just so fucking cool. You’re just”—damn mind-blowing—“amazing.” I tried to tamp down my excitement and glanced over my shoulder at the other guys. “Sorry. Can we do that again?”

  Behind me, Killian chuckled, and then Slade counted down and kicked off the song again.

  This time, I was ready even as I tried to take in every second of what was happening. I shook out my arms as the music swelled, and then I grabbed the mic and began to sing.

  It was fucking magic.

  I’d been in a couple of bands before, but holy shit. The way it all came together when you had musicians at the top of their game was leaps and bounds over anything I’d experienced before. And though my voice was naturally a bit deeper than Trent’s, I still matched him note for note.

  The first song went off without a hitch, and they went straight into the next song off the album. Never one to stand still for long, I ripped the mic off the stand and prowled the room, getting a feel for my surroundings and my place in this band. As I faced them again, all four guys playing masterfully, I could barely believe this was my life. Would be my life for years to come, because after having this taste of what being part of TBD was like, there was no way I was giving it up. And since this was another test to see how I fit in, I wasn’t going to dick around.

  Part of any successful band was stage presence. It didn’t matter how good you sounded on an album. If you sucked ass in front of thousands, if you didn’t give the crowd something to watch, then they wouldn’t stick around for the next tour. So with that thought in mind, I sauntered over to Viper, and when he saw me coming for him, his dark eyes flared.

  Not missing a note, he stared back as I moved closer, his wickedly fast fingers flying up and down the neck of his Fender Telecaster. There was a reason he was known as one of the greatest living guitar players—dude was a legend. And, according to Imogen, every person on the planet thought he was “bad-boy gorgeous” or whatever, which, now that I was face to face with the guy, I supposed could be true. With a penetrating gaze and stubble along his strong jaw and lining his smug mouth, I could see the appeal.

  Wait, what? Uh, no. I could see the appeal for my sister or anyone else. Not for me. I wasn’t checking out another guy’s lips. I was just focused on winning over the one person I knew could potentially stand in my way of making this situation permanent.

  Eight

  Viper

  UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE. AFTER YEARS on tour with Trent as our frontman, and being surrounded by some of the most talented musicians in the world, not much shocked me these days. Rarely was I rendered mute by someone’s ability to hold a stadium captive, and I was even less impressed by someone trying to sing the words I’d poured my heart and fucking soul into.

  But from the moment Halo opened his mouth and sang his way through the first song to right now, he’d held my attention in a way that I knew was going to be a big goddamn problem.

  As I played the intro to the second song off Daybreak, a simple six-note arpeggio I repeated and modulated with the pedal by my foot, Halo pulled the mic off the stand and turned in my direction.

  With those light eyes of his, he sized me up as though trying to decide whether he should stay where he was or come closer, and when the rest of the band joined in and the beat began to really throb, it seemed to act as the shove he needed.

  Halo walked in my direction with more swagger in his little finger than most people had in their entire body, which was a good damn thing considering the song he was singing. As he came to a stop in front of me, his fingers tightened around the mic as he sang the first verse, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was running through his head as his eyes swept down my body to where I was plucking
the strings of my guitar.

  This close, I could smell the fresh scent of whatever soap he’d used this morning as he sidled in closer, and I allowed myself a moment to really look at the guy since he’d walked into the studio.

  In well-worn jeans, a black T-shirt, and Converse, Halo wasn’t dressed to impress—more likely dressed for comfort. But with a leather strap wrapped around his right wrist, that tangle of messy waves on his head, and a full mouth singing a song I’d written about unrequited lust, I was pretty fucking glad I had a guitar covering the lower half of my body.

  I’d known this was going to happen. From the second he’d walked into the audition to last night, when I’d told Killian this was a bad idea. The frontman always played off the lead guitarist, and our band was certainly no different. Chemistry, that was what Killian said he wanted. So, let’s see what the angel had up his sleeve.

  As Halo sang toward the first chorus, and Slade sped up on the drums, I flicked my eyes over to Killian, whose gaze was locked on the two of us; he was probably wondering what the fuck I was gonna do next—but hey, that was his problem, not mine.

  Instead, I returned my attention to Halo, singing the background vocals to go along with his. I was just in time to catch his eyes dropping to my mouth, and fuck if that did anything to squash the arousal licking through my veins from having him so close, and when he seemed to realize where he was looking and his eyes flew up to clash with mine, I couldn’t stop the smirk that crossed my lips.

  Arching an eyebrow, I all but dared him to come closer, and as we came up to the next round of the chorus, he lowered his arm, leaned in, and shared the mic with me, putting his lips in dangerously close proximity to mine.

  The guy had balls, I had to give him that, and as the beat of the drums pulsed around the room, driving us toward the second verse, Halo wrapped his hand around my mic stand and angled his face toward me, as we sang the final line of the chorus in complete sync with one another.