Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,112

we just rehearsed them.”

“About that.” Bristol sets her iPad on the stage. “I know you’re doing ‘Queen’ with Qwest, obviously.”

“Yeah, and ‘Bruise’.”

“For the third song,” Bristol says, tracing the edges of her iPad without looking up. “The Target executive was wondering if you’d perform a song from their Exclusive deluxe version.”

I already know where this is going, but I stay quiet, waiting for her to gather the audacity to ask me to do that song.

“They want ‘Top of the World’,” she says softly, hazarding a glance up at my face.

“I’m not doing that song.” I give an adamant shake of my head. “Not tonight.”

“Of course tonight.” Bristol huffs an exasperated breath. “It’s the perfect fit obviously. Your album is at the top of the charts. The song is called ‘Top—”

“Do I look like I need you to break it down for me, Bristol?” The only thing moving on my face is one brow lifting. I’m barely breath- ing. “I understand why they want it. I’m just not doing it.”

“We have a track for it. The band—”

“My not doing that song has nothing to do with having a live band or a track, and you know it.” I hold her eyes captive with mine. “You didn’t even want the song on the album in the first place.”

“I know, but it’s so good,” she admits grudgingly. “It’s their favorite of the ones we added. They want people to hear it and know they can only get it there.”

“Too bad.”

“How long are you going to do this?” Bristol asks.

“Do what?” I fold my arms across my chest, a physical barrier over the heart she jerked around like a kite for years.

“You know what.”

“No, I wouldn’t have asked if I knew what.”

This feels good. This is my first real opportunity to growl and snarl at her since the album dropped. She’s been so deliberately ghost, and I resent it. That she made this dumb decision with that dickhead and drove this wedge between us when I want to share all of this success with her. But I can’t stand to look at her for more than two minutes without working myself into a rage.

“You’re letting this thing with Parker color your decision making.”

She dared to actually bring it up. To actually say his damn name to me.

“This ‘thing with Parker’, as you call it, is not the point.” I slip razor blades between each word. “I’m not doing that damn song, and you and those executives can kiss my black ass.”

“Wow.” Irritation narrows her eyes to slits. “That’s real professional.”

“Professional?” I drop a laugh loaded with sarcasm. “And was it professional for you to go MIA the week of my debut release and send your junior flunky to handle me?”

It’s strangely satisfying to see her cheeks flush the color of not- quite-ripe raspberries. I know I’m not being fair. Sarah did a great job, and not once did I have reason to complain. But I can’t complain to Bristol about the thing I want to—the fact that she chose that entitled prick over me—so I’ll complain about things that don’t really matter.

She’s right. Real professional, and I don’t give a damn. “Hey, what’s going on?” Rhyson asks from a few feet away.

Bristol and I glare at each other while we wait for him to reach us. How it got this bad, I’m not sure. I’m only sure that I’m making it worse. Every time I’m near her I want to pour accelerant all over my anger so it burns us both to ash.

“What are you fighting about?” Rhyson looks between us, his frown deepening the longer he studies our faces.

“I was telling Grip that the Target executives want him to do ‘Top of the World’.” Bristol sighs like I’m a thorn in her side. “But he won’t.”

“Bristol, could you give us a minute?” Rhyson asks.

“What?” Her expression climbs from irritated to outraged. “This is my job, Rhyson. I don’t need you to—”

“If this is your job, then I am your boss.” Rhyson’s tone and face brook no argument. “And I said give me a minute with my artist.”

“With your art . . .” Bristol folds her lips in to stem her words and draws a calming breath that doesn’t seem to be working since she’s still glaring at me. “Have at it, boss man.”

She stalks off, her precipitously high heels clack clacking her indignation with every step she takes across the floor.

“You know you need to do this song, right?” Rhyson hops up beside