Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars #4) - A.L. Jackson Page 0,16
a fraction to look out over the luxury, lifting his drink out to the room like he was offering a gift. “Nah, man…after this album, you’ll be able to afford two or three of these yourself. No squatting required.”
“Don’t tease me, dude.”
“No teasing to it. Carolina George is about to become a household name,” he proclaimed.
Sure, Carolina George had picked up a faithful following through years of touring and paying to have our albums made in back door studios, but I knew it wasn’t close to the stardom we were gettin’ ready to touch.
Was it considered stumbling onto greatness when you’d strived and hungered and clawed your way to the top?
Funny how it lost part of its luster when you kept losing the people you wanted it for most. When the cheers no longer quite touched your ears. When the music no longer quite touched your soul.
My gaze jumped over the faces in the room. Some I knew and others I didn’t recognize.
All of Sunder was there with their wives.
Local friends and family.
The production crew.
Party private but packed.
It wasn’t close to resembling the ragers I was used to, since almost everyone here was married and had families.
My eyes roamed to find the rest of my band where they had gathered on the far side of the living room.
Our drummer Leif and his wife Mia stood wrapped up in each other, laughing, smiling, and chatting with Royce and my Em-Girl who was grinning with so much joy that she was just glowin’ with it. My best friend Richard and his wife Violet, who was expectin’ their first son, Daisy’s baby brother, in three short months, were with them, too.
Each of them were finally whole in their freedom.
They’d all been through so much bullshit to get to this place.
My chest clutched.
I wanted it. Wanted it for them. That group of amazing people deserved success and joy more than anyone else I knew.
Hell, I had to admit I wanted it for my mama, too. I wanted it so she could look at me and maybe not see the greatest mistake of her life.
I shook off the gloom because I was so not about moping in my misery.
Problem was, I’d sunk into it over the last six months, considerin’ it’d been the longest stint I’d spent in that house with my mama.
Unable to leave because I was terrified that prick might show again. Sick that he’d been there. My sanity teetering on a razor-sharp edge.
Bein’ on the road made it easier. Easier to forget. Easier to pretend.
But when I could feel it all catchin’ up to me? This feelin’ that something was about to snap? It left me…afraid.
I sucked that bullshit down before it spiraled and swung a grin at Baz. “Well, we definitely intend on makin’ you proud.”
“Make me proud? Hell, I’m the one who’s proud,” Baz said. “Honestly, couldn’t get those contracts drawn fast enough when I found out it was a possibility that Stone Industries was going to have the opportunity to represent Carolina George.”
“Guess you do have good taste, after all.” I let a smirk ride to my face.
“Fuck yeah, I do. You think I got here tone deaf?”
His wife, Shea, was suddenly wrapping her arms around his waist from the side, girl so tiny she was basically pressing her cheek to his stomach as she grinned over at me. “Hi, Rhys! How’s your room?”
Hell.
Torture.
Blissful agony.
“Perfect.”
“Awesome. Well, you just let me know if you need anythin’ at all. We want to make sure our artists are cozy while they’re here. We wouldn’t want your inspiration fizzlin’ because of a lumpy pillow.”
A low chuckle rumbled out. “Uh…not even close. Stayed at some pretty ritzy places in the last few years, and I promise you, this takes the cake.”
“That’s what we want to hear.”
She beamed, then turned it up at her husband who dropped the peck of a kiss to her mouth.
“Thank you, baby. You run a tight ship,” he said.
She winked and then strutted away.
Baz followed her with his eyes, and when he turned back to me, he looked a little dazed. I almost laughed when he finally blinked, coming to.
“Whipped, man.” He just gave a little shrug when he admitted it. Zero shame. Then he reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “Come on…time to get this party started.”
I rubbed my palms together. “I’m game.”
I needed the reprieve.
To slip into oblivion. To forget a certain somebody who’d become a naggin’ itch in my mind.