Wasted - Andrea Smith Page 0,2

one damn minute,” Wayne interjected. “Are you talking about that dude who dropped out of school a couple of years back to work part-time at the junkyard? Doesn’t he have a wife now… and a kid?”

“So?” Emmett countered, “What does that have to do with his ability to play keyboards for the group? He knocked up his girlfriend. The guy took responsibility for it. Doesn’t mean he can’t use his musical talent to earn some extra cash, does it? He used to play with Toxic Plume, and they were badass as hell.”

Cooper was the first to respond, “I’m okay with it if the rest of you have no issue with him. Don’t know him all that well, but hey, at least we can invite him to jam with us and see if he’s a fit.”

“Good,” Emmett replied. “I’ll see if he can make it here tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime, let’s try this tune again and, this time, let’s get it right.”

Ace Coulter had proven to be a valuable asset to Wasted. As far as Emmett was concerned, he gave the group an edge over the competition with his mad skills on keyboards. And his wife, Katie, was pretty cool about his music gigs. She was always right there in the crowd when the band took center stage at a local gig.

Wasted was coming into their own in the Fort Wayne and beyond club scene. They were booked every weekend through the summer and early fall, but Emmett wanted more.

He wanted some Indianapolis gigs, and as the band’s manager, he was determined to make that happen. It would be a bigger venue, provide more visibility for the group with musical talent scouts who could put them on the tour map.

That was Emmett’s dream, and he was going to do everything possible to make it all happen. Wasted now did more of their own music versus cover songs, and their signature music and vocal style were unique in the club venues.

But Emmett would find out that dreams of stardom can fade when clouds get in the way.

Chapter 1

Present Day

Emmett

As soon as my feet hit the carpeted floor, I pulled on my boxers. I headed out of my bedroom towards my kitchen to make coffee. I glanced at the clock on my stove and saw that it was past eleven. I had practice at one, and my head was still foggy from all the partying we did after the gig last night. It came with the territory and, as much as I got into the after-hour festivities, last night was over the top as partying goes.

As soon as my coffee maker filled the mug, I spooned some sugar into it and stirred it. Just as I took a sip of the hot, highly-caffeinated brew, I saw what could only have been an overnight guest come into the living area of my trailer, wearing only her panties and the shirt I’d played in last night. She had a bad case of bedhead going on and, as she closed in on me from where I stood behind the breakfast bar, she greeted me with a smile and a timid, “Mind if I grab a mug of coffee, Emmett?”

I raked a hand through my hair, trying like hell to remember the chick’s name. “Uh, sure, help yourself, babe.” I always addressed the one-nighter chicks as “babe” if their names eluded me. This was one of those times. Damn if I hadn’t gotten totally wasted last night.

Her eyes flickered over me almost possessively as she brushed past me and reached up to grab a clean mug from the open cupboard. She filled it to the brim.

“Uh, do you need cream for your coffee? I think I might have some milk left in the fridge. Can’t guarantee it hasn’t expired though,” I told her. “I make my java pretty damn strong, so you’ve been warned.”

“No,” she purred, leaning back against the counter and holding the coffee mug in both hands as she took a tentative sip, her eyes never leaving mine. “You’re right about that, but I like it strong. I love all strong things,” she said, tossing out some sort of a provocative look that was wasted on me.

“Okay then. Well, hey, enjoy it. I’m gonna grab a shower and try to get rid of this hangover before I leave for practice. Unless… do you need a lift back to--?”