pick my nose and rub it on the strings of the bass.
Or maybe just spit on the bass.
Not that it would matter to Reed.
But… still…
I cleared my throat and puckered my lips a little.
“Are you okay, Abby?”
I gasped and jumped to my feet.
I looked at Toby and nodded. “Fine. Just admiring.”
“It’s odd being around the instruments without the guys,” he said. “Truthfully, I don’t mind the quietness.” He laughed. “Uh, we’re pretty much done here. We’re going to mix the vocals into the track and let the band hear it.”
“Okay,” I said. “If you need anything else, let me know.”
Toby casually pointed to the door.
That was my hint to leave.
I exited the room and walked through the studio alone.
I wondered if I should have gotten to know Dawn and Carla better.
Wasn’t that how most big break stories happened? Someone meets someone randomly and then it blossoms into something else… right?
The only problem there was that I wasn’t sure what I actually wanted anymore.
Did I want to sing professionally? Did I want to be a backup singer for FILTHY LINE? Did I want to sing on stage by myself?
Did I want to keep singing in a female barbershop quartet?
One of those questions was an easy fuck no.
But that was the one thing that kept me going at the moment.
Even when I got the money from FILTHY LINE, I couldn’t see myself quitting Sasha, Rae, and Jess. That money wasn’t going to last forever. Nowhere near forever.
And if I did go on tour with the band and got paid, that wouldn’t be enough to survive for the rest of my life either.
I wondered how that all worked.
Maybe I should have gotten a lawyer or agent or someone involved.
If the song became a smash hit… was I going to get paid each time it was streamed?
I really had no idea where this was all going to end up going.
Or what Reed would end up doing to hurt me.
Or embarrass me.
I exited the studio and saw Sasha’s SUV was gone.
I put my head back and sighed.
Where are you?
I stood in the parking lot and looked around.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Went to get coffee! Coming back in a few. Sorry.
I took a few steps and heard the squeal of tires.
When I turned my head, I saw a black car with neon red stripes moving very fast through the parking lot.
It was coming right for me.
Watching this car barreling toward me, I froze in place.
I put my hands out like I had some kind of magical powers.
The car made a quick turn and came to a screeching stop.
The passenger side door was a few feet away from me.
I heard the sound of music playing from inside the car.
The driver’s side door opened and someone stepped out.
He turned and looked right at me, grinning.
He was devilishly handsome.
Messy black hair that he tried to slick back with his hand. Bracelets and rings all over his fingers and wrists. Black sunglasses on his face.
He lifted the sunglasses and his eyes were piercing green.
They were so striking that I gasped.
I knew exactly who it was too.
He slowly smirked at me.
“Need a ride?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“You know, a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be left alone. Ever. You never know when something or someone dangerous is going to show up.”
“I can handle myself.”
“No, you can’t. But I can handle you. Get in the car.”
“No, thanks.”
“I’m not like the others,” he said. “I’m not going to parade you around a strip club, trying to get you jealous enough to dry hump my dick into submission.”
“Wow…”
“I have my own set up at the house. You’re going to love it.”
“I have to go,” I said.
“Yeah, right. You’re singing on their new song. Sad to see them selling out, you know? Bringing in a band. A piano. Come on. That’s not rock music. That’s insane.”
“I’m just doing my job,” I said.
My teeth started to chatter together.
“You do that,” he said. “Give me a call when you’re ready to get wild. Why be filthy when you can be raunchy?”
He winked at me and pulled his sunglasses down.
He tossed a piece of paper over his car and got back inside.
His name was Venom. But everyone called him Ven.
He was the lead guitarist for RAUNCHY RECKS.
The engine revved and then Ven took off.
I took the piece of paper off the ground and looked at the number.
Who the hell did these rock stars think I was?
How the hell did Ven know about me?
My mind raced as Sasha