Lilac

by Reid, B. B.

  The seconds ticked by, too many of them, and she still hadn’t spoken. Her only reaction was her full lips parting. They were red and swollen like she’d been kissed to within an inch of her life. Even as my jealousy struggled to surface, I wondered if they were natural. My dick told me they were. My gut was too busy tying itself into an endless knot.

  “Are you lost?” Loren inquired, always the first to be an asshole. “Or did you lose your voice in that ugly-ass dress?”

  There were snickers drowned out by a throat clearing.

  Carl.

  The dick who owned this shady label, and now he was intervening before the fire rising in the girl’s eyes turned Loren to ash.

  Shame. I would have enjoyed watching her try.

  “Casey, can we help you?”

  The intern looked ready to shit a brick when she realized her obvious mistake. “I’m sorry, sir. You told me to bring Ms. Fawn right away when she arrived.”

  The room fell so quiet I wondered if they heard my nuts retracting back inside my body.

  No.

  Hell. No.

  This could not be Braxton Fawn. To start, I assumed he’d be a dude. Even worse than Fawn being a woman was the fact that I wanted her.

  As if only now remembering that she was responsible for this mess, Oni Sridhar shot to her feet. When the pain-in-the-ass A&R rep didn’t immediately dismiss the intruder, I stood up straight, catching the prairie girl’s reaction to my height.

  Give me a break.

  “Yes,” Oni confirmed as she strutted with too much confidence for my liking toward the door where her intern and the imposter stood. “This is the promising up-and-comer I was telling you about. I think Braxton is just what Bound needs to take it to the next level.”

  “The next level?” Rich spat as he straightened from his position near the windows. It took a lot to anger him since he was supposed to be the nice one. Right now, he was pissed and rightly so. We’d given the world everything, and it still wasn’t enough. It never was. “Who’s your mom’s favorite band? Pink Floyd? I bet if Nick Mason gave her a million to suck his dick, she’d still suck mine for free.”

  Oni whirled on her fuck-me pumps to face my drummer. Fucking her was what I should have done when I had half the chance. Now she couldn’t stand me, or any of us for that matter, and I hated whenever we breathed the same air. “Perhaps she would if my mom were still alive and Nick wasn’t over seventy years old. Are you done?”

  I saw the regret in Rich’s eyes, but he didn’t offer an apology. Oni had already turned away. Before she could continue with her ludicrous pitch, Loren took his turn exploding.

  “Please tell me you’re joking. This is Braxton? She’s our new guitarist?” My bassist didn’t move from his slouched position in the chair, but the vicious sneer he shot Braxton did the trick. “This chick looks like she just came from choir practice.”

  Slowly, little Miss Fawn’s head turned. We weren’t prepared for the force of her full attention. The awe in her gaze when she’d stepped into the room was gone. Her doe eyes had sharpened and cut us down before she spoke.

  “Actually, it was Bible study.”

  Loren jerked as if someone had run an electric bolt through his heart before remembering he had the upper hand. “I don’t give a fuck if it was Bible camp. Get lost.”

  Disappointment ripped through my chest when Oni cut in before Braxton could retort. I had no intention of letting some blushing virgin join Bound, so I was more than eager to have my fun with her while I could. Loren would eat her insolent ass alive, and I’d savor every second of it.

  “You had your chance to find a replacement and knew what would happen if you didn’t. The tour starts in three months. You barely have any time left to rehearse.”

  “We know the material,” Rich reminded her dryly. “We wrote it.”

  “Braxton,” Oni said, emphasizing her name, “doesn’t.”

  “Hello? Is anyone at home in there?” Lo inquired, tapping his own skull. “Or are you secretly blonde?”

  “So, the pot calls the kettle.”

  He ignored that. “If she doesn’t know our music, what makes you think she’s a good fit for our band?”

  “You can teach her.”

  Rich’s nostrils flared.

  Loren rolled his eyes. “Not interested.”

  “They don’t have to teach me,” Braxton announced. She’d found her damn tongue. A moment later, we all learned a valuable lesson.

  It was sharper than razor blades.

  “I know the material.” Her gaze found Loren’s, and I was sure he had stopped breathing. He sat so very still. “Probably better than you since I caught your last performance. You missed three notes and were behind your drummer half the show.” She tipped her head in Rich’s direction, her red mane shimmering under the natural light. The very sun seemed to serve as her personal spotlight.

  For a moment, I allowed myself the vision of pulling on her hair while I punished her pussy from behind. From her looks, she had no idea what a dick looked like, much less how to handle one. I shoved the pointless fantasy away.

  Loren, miraculously, had nothing to say. I’d already ripped into him for those very mistakes. I didn’t miss his surprise and fury at being called out by an amateur, but my focus was now on Carl, who was stroking his weak chin thoughtfully.

  I took that as my cue to end this.

  The label had every reason to ruin us, and Braxton Fawn would undoubtedly deliver.

  Moving away from the table, I took slow steps toward Oni and her pet project. It wasn’t my intention to put them at ease—quite the opposite. I wanted to rattle the troublemakers, give them time to regret their mistake.

  Oni squared her shoulders, standing tall beside Braxton. She probably thought she could stop me if I decided to choke the life out of Bambi.

  Closer now, I could see the freckles peppering Braxton’s nose and cheeks. It almost worked in concealing her blush at my proximity. Annoyingly, there wasn’t a single thing I wasn’t noticing about this girl. She smelled rich and sinful like forbidden fruit and wore no bra. Her nipples were hard enough to make themselves known through the thick material of her dress. I wondered if the sweat beading her pale skin was from fear of me finding out. Braxton was too damn young, her eyes appearing even bigger up close. She couldn’t be much older than eighteen.

  Which meant I was nearly a decade older.

  “Though I can’t say the same for you, my time is valuable, so let’s drop the dramatics.” The fact that these were my first words to her tore at something inside of me. Something I had every intention of avoiding. “I’m sure you think you play well to your soundproof ears, but Bound isn’t looking for a reunion with amateur hour. Run back to your mom’s garage or whatever hole-in-the-wall club Sridhar found you. We’re not interested.”

  “Aren’t you, though?” For some reason, my fingers and toes curled. She acted as if I couldn’t and wouldn’t break her in half and sleep like a baby tonight. “If you were half the artist you think you are, you wouldn’t feel so threatened by an amateur. You wouldn’t be shaking in your big boy boots. My God, I could hear your poor knees knocking thirty floors down.” Lips pursed, her gaze boldly drifted down. I could have sworn she’d zeroed in on the exact spot where my dick slowly grew against my thigh. Not a virgin, after all. “I’m surprised you haven’t pissed your pants yet, Morrow. Don’t tell me you have stage fright.”

  My eyebrow rose when she finished her little rant. It was cute at best. I swallowed my yawn.

  “So that’s your plan? You’re going to appeal to what you assume is a fragile ego? I’m confident I’ll trample you, your childish dreams, and that chip on your shoulder if you don’t get the hell out of my sight.” When she didn’t immediately run away, I felt blood rush to my groin. The fact that I was in danger of pitching a tent pissed me off even more. “Why can I still see you?”

  “I didn’t hear you say please.”

  Silence descended over the
room.

  Neither Braxton nor I looked away from one another. I wondered who would break first when a masculine chuckle interrupted my plotting.

  I knew without confirming that it hadn’t come from Loren or Rich. I couldn’t remember a time we weren’t on the same wavelength. Whatever I felt, they felt, and vice versa. Right now, I could feel them both as eager to get our latest stroke of bad luck the hell out of the room.

  There was clapping as the laughter continued, and then Carl spoke. “I have to admit that I wasn’t sold when Ms. Sridhar pitched a female member of Bound.” My fists balled because clearly Bound had been the only one kept in the dark about Braxton. Carl continued speaking, unaware that his life was in danger. “I was even less convinced when this young woman walked through the door, but she’s managed to spark my interest at the very least.” To Braxton, who I wouldn’t allow him to see since I still stood in front of her, he added, “Young lady, you’ve done the impossible. You tied Houston’s tongue. That’s not a feat easily accomplished, even for me.”

  I smirked even though that piece of shit was trying to threaten me. He didn’t want to risk tipping Braxton off that he was as crooked as they come. Carl was nothing without us, but he held on to the delusion that it was the other way around.

  “Stay awhile,” Carl invited, making my heart drop into my stomach. Braxton looked like she’d disembowel me if I made a wrong move. If she did, my heart would undoubtedly fall at her feet. “We have much to discuss.”

  My fingertips dug into my palms as I sat across from Carl in his high-rise office with Los Angeles bustling on the streets below.

  “Find someone else.”

  An hour ago, I would have been too proud to beg. I just couldn’t stop recalling the glow in Braxton’s eyes, along with excitement and wariness, as she signed her name on the dotted line. She was too goddamn eager, too unaware of what she’d done.

  “Anyone else.”

  It was pointless asking him to cancel or postpone the tour since he’d already refused. Carl had a bigger stake in this tour. It was also his last chance to squeeze us. We’d wised up a long time ago, and now his mission was to make us pay for it.

  Behind his desk, Carl smugly sat back in his chair. The bastard knew this was a terrible fucking idea. It was the exact reason he’d signed off on it. I felt the ice growing at my fingertips and slowly crawling its way up my limbs.

  This was not happening.

  Braxton Fawn could not be our new guitarist.

  “Why would I do that? She’s perfect.”

  “You haven’t even heard her play,” I pushed through gritted teeth.

  “I trust Oni. She found you.”

  And I’ve regretted it every single fucking day. I kept those thoughts to myself because it was pointless to voice them when Carl already knew. He delighted in our misery. For five fucking years, he slept like a baby, knowing he had us under his thumb. We should never have signed that bullshit contract. I should never have been so weak.

  Only one year to go.

  The end of our world tour marked Bound’s hard-won freedom. After three albums and too much lost, the knowledge should have filled me with joy.

  There was only one problem.

  That could have gone better.

  Despite the shitshow the meeting had turned into, I felt like I was walking on a cloud. I expected to walk through those doors with only a handful of empty promises. Instead, I was Bound’s new guitarist.

  Bound.

  Bound.

  BOUND.

  My arm throbbed where I’d pinched it the entire elevator ride down. I was expecting to wake up any moment now. I was trapped in an endless dream and wasn’t sure I wanted to leave. There was only one problem: America’s sweethearts turned out to be real douchebags.

  I made it to my car parked in the building’s garage just as my phone vibrated, and a text appeared in a banner at the top of the screen.

  Poison. 9 p.m. We need to talk.

  —Oni

  Groaning because this day was starting to feel like it would never end, I threw myself into my hooptie and headed straight home. Home was a cheap three-bedroom apartment in Mid-City, where I found my best friend and roommate sitting crossed-legged on our couch.

  Griffin Sinclair reminded me of Nicola Peltz with her blonde hair, green eyes, and perpetual soul-searing gaze. Only with longer legs. Maeko, our other roommate and bestie, was nowhere to be found. Maeko had moved to Los Angeles with the dreams of becoming an actress, so I was hoping her absence meant she was at another audition. Unfortunately, with her Japanese-American heritage and the lack of diversity in Hollywood’s starring roles, she’d yet to land more than a small part, but she wasn’t giving up. Griffin and I wouldn’t let her.

  “Back so soon?” Griff quipped. Her green gaze was assessing as she watched me instead of the show playing on TV. “Why am I not surprised?” She then wrinkled her button nose at my sister’s dress. It really was hideous. “What are you wearing?”

  I paused, debating telling Griffin about my new gig before deciding against it—at least for now. Griffin, who worked part-time as a paralegal while studying law, was a bloodhound for secrets. It was nearly impossible to keep anything from her. However, the biggest reason was that my blooming music career rested on my surviving a world tour with three egomaniacs. Carl Cole’s words replayed in my head as if on cue.

  “Learn the words, survive the tour, and then we’ll talk. In the meantime, sign this.”

  The paper he’d shoved at me had been a short-term contract that lasted until the end of the tour. It basically ensured that I couldn’t quit for any reason without serious financial repercussions.

  Translation: He’d sue the fuck out of me.

  I still wondered how the agreement could be considered short-term since standard recording contracts only lasted a year. Even I knew that it was career suicide to sign with a label for longer than twelve months at a time. There could be differences in vision between the label and artist too vast to overcome, a lack of funding and influence causing stagnant careers, or corrupt labels who demanded too much and gave almost nothing in return.

  “You’re not surprised because you know me well,” I answered my friend.

  “That I do. So what happened with your folks?” she asked, referring to my impromptu trip home. It was maybe my third in the four years since I left home.

  “Rosalie’s dating an atheist,” I blurted unceremoniously.

  Griffin winced before shaking her head. “Poor baby sis.”

  “Indeed.”

  I shuffled into the living room barely large enough to fit our second-hand coffee table, armchair, and dilapidated couch. The furniture was a little masculine, but none of us minded since we were too poor to be picky, and we’d taken it off a neighbor’s hands for free. His asking price had been two hundred dollars, but Griff worked her magic. Men had a tough time saying no to her, which was ironic since they weren’t her type.

  My bones ached from unknown exertion as I flopped next to Griffin on the couch. I then settled onto my side before laying my head in her lap. Staring at the TV but not watching whatever was playing, I replayed the meeting with Bound and Savant Records over and over in my head.

  Bound’s reaction to me, a stranger, had been almost violent. I hadn’t done anything to earn it. My only crime was being fashionably late, but they seemed prepared to hate me either way. Curiosity and a little disappointment that my idols turned out to be jerks had me wondering why.

  Feeling my head begin to ache, I decided I didn’t care. I had an agenda that was bigger than me, and three overgrown toddlers weren’t going to get in my way.

  My mind was a whirlpool of jumbled thoughts and emotions, and any moment, I’d drown. Ever the mind reader, Griffin’s fingers began gliding through my hair, and it took no time at all before my eyes began to close.

  “Wake me in a few hours,” I sleepily managed to get out. “I’m meeting someone tonight.”

  I felt her
fingers pause in my hair, but I was asleep before she could interrogate me.

  A quarter past nine, I was rushing through Poison’s doors.

  Since the night was young, it was easy to spot Oni sitting at a table furthest from the dance floor. She was sipping the bar’s most lethal drink with the look of someone who’d fucked up royally. It was a far cry from the confidence she’d displayed earlier, but I didn’t take it personally. Witnessing her uncertainty only assured me that I was doing the right thing.

  Houston, Loren, and Jericho had been right.

  It was their delivery that sucked.

  I had no business breathing Bound’s air, much less sharing a stage. I could predict each minute change in Houston’s pitch, the pluck of Loren’s pick, and the pattern of Jericho’s strikes as if I’d choreographed them myself.

  It. Wasn’t. Enough.

  I didn’t know them. There was a reason they played so beautifully together. The answer was in the name they’d chosen. Houston, Loren, and Jericho were bound, which meant I was trespassing on destiny.

  No wonder they hated me.

  I powered ahead, pushing through the thin crowd. Spotting me before I could reach her, the hopelessness vanished from Oni’s eyes as she watched me closely. When I finally reached the table, my lips parted, but she quickly held up her hand.

  I was silenced before I could even get a syllable out.

  “Whatever sad spiel you’re about to give me to try to pull out of this deal, save it. You’re doing the tour.”

  “This was a huge mistake,” I admitted anyway. There was no use pretending she hadn’t known exactly what I was thinking. She’d at least saved me from trying to find the right words.

  “Probably,” Oni agreed with a shrug. “But it doesn’t matter now, so let me give you a warning that I hope you’ll heed.” She paused to make sure I was listening before continuing. “The last thing you want to do is bare your belly to those assholes. They won’t show you mercy.”