by Ella Frank
Jesus. After last night, I could barely look Viper’s way without heat creeping up my neck, because damn, him between my legs had been the hottest thing I’d ever experienced. As if he knew what I was thinking, Viper grabbed the end of the toothpick in his mouth and slowly slid it in and out several times until I made myself look away or risk giving myself away.
“So,” Brian said, straightening his tie and then sliding his hands into his pockets. “I think we can all agree that the video I sent the Warden has paid off quite well. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Recording without consent is a dick move,” Viper said. “You pull that shit again or post anything online without our approval and there won’t be a fuckin’ next time.”
“V.” Killian shot him a shut the fuck up look. “Let’s hear what he has to say. I’m sure Brian had a good reason for being a sneaky motherfucker and posting a private session.”
Brian paled. “What? You guys should be thanking me. Over five million people saw that video—”
“Over seven now, actually,” Viper said. “Which means you owe Halo about seven million apologies, considering it was his face you focused on.”
I sank down a couple of inches, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself, since it seemed like I was always in the center of the damn maelstrom.
“You’re not serious,” Brian said, his hands balling at his hips. “I did you assholes a favor. Your career was going up in flames, but now everyone wants to know who Halo is. He’s gonna save you.”
Save them? This coming from the guy who told the band to fire me?
Slade pointed a drumstick Brian’s way. “Not fuckin’ cool.”
“Yeah, you should apologize,” Jagger agreed.
For the first time since he’d entered the room, Brian looked at me. With nowhere to hide, I straightened and waited to see if he’d bow to their demands. Personally, I didn’t need any kind of apology. The song going viral was the coolest thing that’d happened in my lifetime other than joining TBD, but I could understand the invasion of privacy being an issue for the others. They’d had to deal with this kind of thing far longer than me, so when Brian puffed himself up and threw a quick “sorry” in my direction, I nodded, ready to move on.
“Good,” Killian said. “Now what is it you wanted us here for?”
Clearly thrown off his game, Brian ran a self-conscious hand over his tie and tried to regain his upper hand. “Due to the response the video has generated, MGA wants you in the studio to record ‘Invitation’ tomorrow. They want to get it out to radio, stat, while it’s hot.”
Holy shit…my song—our song—was gonna be on the radio already? My eyes found Viper’s, and I couldn’t stop the grin on my face as he nodded in approval.
“That’s not all,” Brian went on. “I also showed them the second song, and they’ve agreed to give you guys studio time to get the album done. You’ve got three months, and you can utilize any MGA property. The only stipulation is you lock that shit down, give them an album they can do something with, and you leave this week.”
Viper waggled his brows at Killian. “Miami?”
“Hell yes,” Jagger said. “I’m over this snow shit.”
Killian looked at me. “What about you, Halo? Think you can write some songs in Miami?”
Uh, I could write a song in a cardboard box if it was going to be on the radio or on a TBD album, but I tried to rein in my excitement and play it cool.
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Miami works.”
“Good. Be at the studio tomorrow at noon, and then pack your shit for the weekend.” Brian turned to leave, but then seemed to remember something. “Oh yeah. You’ve got a Late Night with Carly Wilde performance Friday. Make sure you’ve got a new name when you show up.”
“A new name?” I said. And a TV performance? Shit.
“New band name. TBD’s dead. Try to come up with something a little more original this time, guys.”
With that, Brian slammed the door shut, and a few seconds later, Killian’s front door also slammed shut.
“Man, I fucking hate that guy,” Viper said. “I don’t give a shit if he’s been with us since the beginning. Money’s made him a douchebag.”
“He’s not my favorite either, but he just gave us a decent deal and MGA’s still interested,” Killian said.
I was still focused on the last bit Brian had said. “So you guys were serious about changing our name? We won’t be TBD anymore?”
Killian reached over to squeeze my shoulder. “Startin’ fresh, my man. Any ideas?” He looked at the others. “What about you guys?”
I had a feeling this wouldn’t be an easy decision, considering I heard the guys chose TBD—“to be determined”—as a placeholder while they thought up a name, and it ended up sticking.
“Maybe something that incorporates the first letter of our names?” Jagger said. “What word can we make outta that? We’ve got K…H…V…S…J…” He stopped and frowned. “Not one fuckin’ vowel?”
“Moving on.” Killian drummed his fingers along his thigh in a steady rhythm. “What about something to do with New York, since we all grew up here?”
“Us and millions of others. Really unique there, Kill.” Viper snorted and threw his toothpick in Killian’s direction. When it missed and hit me instead, Viper narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, studying me. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head, whatever was going on in that brain of his nothing good, and when a wicked smile crossed his lips, I braced myself for whatever was about to come out of his mouth.
“Fine. What have you got?” Killian said.
“Oh, I’ve got somethin’.” Viper didn’t take his eyes off me as he inclined his head in my direction. “Look at our frontman. What does he look like to you?”
When everyone turned toward me, I shot Viper a dirty look, but that only made his smile grow.
“Those golden curls, that angelic face, his name. But underneath lurks a man who writes and sings filthy lyrics. A…fallen angel, wouldn’t you say?”
As the reference to what Viper had called me last night after the epic blow job hit my ears, I glared his way and opened my mouth to disagree with his suggestion, but Killian beat me to it.
“Fallen Angel… Dude, that’s perfect.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Slade and Jagger nodding along.
“He really does look like a fallen angel,” Jagger said. “And being the face of the band, especially after the video? The ladies are gonna go apeshit.”
“The guys too,” Viper said, shooting me a wink that had my stomach flip-flopping, as if everyone knew exactly what he was referring to. But of course they didn’t. How could they? They thought I was straight. They’d never suspect I’d be tempted by our devilish guitarist, or at least not that I’d give in.
“So we’re all in agreement? The band is now Fallen Angel?” Killian looked at the group of us, everyone throwing out a version of yes, and when he got to me, I gave Viper another look. He seemed pretty damn pleased with himself, stretching his hands up over his head and lacing them behind his neck as he smiled my way.
Great. Our new name was forever going to be a reminder of Viper’s lips wrapped around my dick.
“Fallen Angel it is,” I said.
“Damn. That might’ve been the quickest decision we’ve ever made,” Killian said. “Now let’s go practice this shit before we lay it down tomorrow.”
Thirty-Eight
Viper
“OKAY, GUYS, YOU have ten minutes until you’re on, got it?” Brian’s eyes swept around the green room of Late Night with Carly Wilde, which we’d occupied several times over the years back when she had a daytime talk show. And when he realized we were all there except for one, his eyes skidded to a stop on Killian. “Where’s the kid? Why can’t you all ever be in one place, on time?”
God, I hated it when Brian called Halo that. Kid. It was condescending, not to mention really fucking rude, considerin
g that kid was about to be the person who ensured Brian’s paycheck this month.
But before I could voice my opinion, Killian spoke up, likely sensing my desire to rip Brian a new one.
“He just went to hit the head. He’ll be back in a minute.”
Brian glanced at his watch, then looked toward the door Halo had disappeared through five minutes ago and said, “I don’t care if he’s back in eight. As long as he’s here when they come to get you guys.”
“Jesus, Brian. Relax, would you.” Jagger poured a shot of tequila from the fully stocked bar, and then held it up. “You want one of these? Maybe two or three?”
“Hell,” Slade said. “Give him the whole fucking bottle. You need to chill, man.”
“Chill?” With a hand on his hip, Brian rubbed his other fingers across the bridge of his nose and then said in a lowered voice, “I don’t think you realize what’s at stake here tonight. I will ‘chill’ when you five get on that stage, wow the audience, and remind them all why they fell in love with you. Tonight needs to be perfect. You all need to be perfect.”
Was he fucking kidding with this shit right now? Talking to us as if we didn’t know what was at stake? This was our livelihood. Our jobs. Christ, he had some nerve.
Shoving to my feet, I was about two seconds away from putting a fist in the bastard’s face, when Killian intervened by grabbing my arm.
“Viper was just about to go and find Halo and let him know it’s time. Right, V?”
If the choice was between that or murdering Brian, I knew which I preferred right then.
“Right, V?”
I aimed an eat shit look in Brian’s direction, and when he rolled his eyes, I ground my molars together. “Right.”
As I turned to leave the room, I took the shot Jagger still held in his hand and slammed it back, and when he offered the bottle, I took it from him. Not for me, but just in case Halo needed a shot of liquid courage.
It’d been a couple of days since we’d finished up the recording of “Invitation,” and with tonight’s interview, the track about to hit, and the trip to Florida all happening at a whirlwind pace, none of us had really had a chance to stop and think about everything going down.
That wasn’t so much of an issue for me and the guys—we were used to the chaos that sometimes surrounded our lives—but for Halo? I had a feeling that things were starting to catch up with the angel.
Pushing through the door of the men’s room, I wasn’t at all shocked to find Halo standing at the far end of the vanity in front of the mirror, staring at himself as though he were looking at a stranger—and tonight, he probably felt like one, at least to himself.
To me, however, he looked sexy as fuck. In black boots he’d left half unlaced, jeans that were ripped in all the right places, and a fitted white shirt he’d only buttoned to mid-sternum, the man standing in front of the mirror with the disheveled curls and luminous sea green eyes looked like a man who people would lose their fucking minds over.
Add in the black leather jacket, and when Halo stepped on that stage tonight, every person sitting in the audience, and at home in their living room, was about to fall in love.
“How you doing in here, Angel?”
Halo looked in my direction, and when his eyes fell to the bottle in my hand, he said, “Do you always carry a bottle of alcohol around with you?”
I raised the tequila and shrugged. “Maybe. I thought you could do with a shot before we hit the stage.”
“Ugh.” Halo scrunched his nose up.
“Or maybe not.” I put the bottle on the vanity and walked to where he was back to staring at himself in the mirror.
“I already feel like I’m going to be sick,” he said. “That will not help.”
I’d figured as much, but as I stared at Halo’s profile, I couldn’t for the life of me imagine why someone like him would ever be nervous. He was…magnificent.
“Angel.” When Halo didn’t respond, but kept staring at himself, I moved around behind him until he could see my face in the mirror beside his. “You are going to kill it out there tonight.”
Halo’s eyes searched out mine, and I could see the real worry there, the real…fear.
“I don’t know, I… What if it’s like it was back in Savannah? We all thought I was going to kill it there, and look what happened. I killed it. As in TBD is dead because of me.”
Without even thinking about it, I grabbed Halo’s arm and spun him around so he was chest to chest with me. Then I took hold of his chin and said, “TBD is dead because of Trent. Not you. Do you hear me?”
When Halo remained mute, I dragged my thumb over his lip and followed the path with hungry eyes. “You are giving us a second chance. Your music kicks ass, your lyrics are hot as fuck, and this face with that voice? Angel, you’re about to be a fucking superstar. Enjoy that. Be proud of it.”
When Halo slowly nodded and shifted closer to me, I groaned.
“And keep that look that’s in your eyes now, would you? It’ll make me uncomfortable as shit, but it’ll be perfect when you hit the stage.”
“What look’s that?”
Knowing my own limits, I dropped my hand from his face and took a step away. “Ask me after we’re done here and I’ll show you.” I walked back toward the door and snatched up the tequila. “Final chance.”
Halo walked my way but shook his head, and I was relieved to see the fear from a second ago had been replaced with a new sense of determination. “You really think my music kicks ass?”
I grabbed on to the door to open it for him and nodded. “I do.”
The smile that lit Halo’s face made something in my stomach tighten.
“Then what do I care what the rest of the world thinks?” he said. “That’s good enough for me.”
As we walked back to the green room, it was to see the rest of the guys coming out the door. When they spotted us, they all started shooting the shit with Halo, pumping him up for what was to come, and I hung back a little, hearing Halo’s words over and over in my head.
I had to admit, it felt really fucking good to know that I was the reason Halo was now standing tall and looking like he had won some goddamn prize, and as one of the assistants began to mic us up, I made sure to keep my eyes off him. Killian was standing close enough that he’d see any kind of thought or feeling that was on my face, and the last thing Halo needed was Killian calling me out on my wayward dick.
“Okay,” Killian said, as he clapped Halo on the arm. “Ready for this?”
Halo scoffed. “Uh…no.” Then he flashed a charming smile. “But I’m gonna rock it.”
“Of course you are, man.” Jagger peeked out of one of the curtains and then looked back at us. “And if you get nervous there’s a serious hottie, front row, on the right. Miniskirt, legs for days, blond hair.”
Never in my life had I wanted to be called on stage for an interview more. And when Halo grinned at Jagger and said, “Nah. You can keep the blondes, they aren’t my type,” I almost asked one of the assistants if she could bring that bottle of tequila back.
“How about he looks at Carly,” Killian said, as he shoved Jagger in the shoulder. “Since she’s the one doing the interview?”
Before anyone could chime in with anything else ridiculous, a woman with tight red curls stuck her head behind the curtain.
“You guys are on in five, four, three,” then she mouthed, Two, one, and before Jagger was shoved out from behind the curtain, he whispered to Halo, “What about redheads?”
Then Carly Wilde’s voice came over the speakers. “Please welcome to the stage, everyone, Fallen Angel.”
Thirty-Nine
Halo
“CHAMPAGNE, SIR?” THE flight attendant asked as I buckled myself in on MGA’s private jet the next morning. Private jet. Will I ever get used to this? Answer: I certainly hoped not.
As Viper made his way down the aisle, he swiped a champagne glass from the attendant’s tray. “Might as well keep the party goin’,
” he said, winking my way before downing half the contents. For a heart-stopping second, I thought he’d choose the seat beside me, but he sauntered past, claiming the cream leather couch on the opposite side.
I blew out a breath and smiled at the flight attendant whose nametag read Shirley. “Thanks, Shirley, I’d love one.”
Last night’s performance on Carly Wilde’s show had gone phenomenally well—nothing like our Savannah show—and we’d spent all night celebrating at a dive bar. My head pounded, but I drank the champagne gratefully. Hair of the dog and all that.
“‘With a new name, a new sound, and a new lead singer, the band formerly known as TBD made its first live appearance last night on Late Night with Carly Wilde, and it was nothing short of spectacular.’” Killian grinned as he read to us off his phone. “‘Just last week, the world saw its first glimpse of new frontman, Halo, when the Warden posted a secretly recorded video of the singer performing what will surely be a hit if the reactions on social media are any indication. With the face of an angel and the voice to match, Halo stunned the late-night crowd, breathing new life into the powerhouse that was TBD, and all but ensuring the rockers of Fallen Angel a future spot among the greats. We’re anxiously awaiting the debut album, release date still to be announced…’”
Killian had been reading off articles the entire drive to the airport, and while I was ecstatic at the response, I couldn’t stop focusing on the work we had ahead of ourselves.
“We just have to write and record an entire album in three months and make it kickass. Worthy of being one of ‘the future greats.’ No big deal,” I said.
“You,” Viper said, pointing my way. “Drink. Stop fuckin’ stressing.”
“Yeaaah, we’re goin’ to Miami.” Jagger rolled his hips like he was grinding in a club—shit, maybe in his head he was.
“And what does that mean? You don’t stress in Miami?” I said.
“Damn right,” Killian said. “Impossible to stress in paradise. We’re gonna write, record, drink, spend every spare second on the beach—”
“And prowl at night.” Jagger high-fived Slade, and I had to shake my head. Easy as that, huh?
