Wicked (Somerset University #2) - Ruby Vincent Page 0,10

a studio and their magic would take over.

“I can’t believe I’ve never heard of them,” I breathed.

“Spend all your time in Evergreen and you’ll miss a lot. Join me, Maxie, and our friends on the weekends. We’re always checking out local bands.”

“Can’t do the over twenty-ones,” I reminded. “But take video the next time you come across a group like them. We’ll get them in front of Bianca sooner.”

Serena wrapped up the song and transitioned straight into the next one. They did an excellent job mixing slow and upbeat, sad and heart-pounding, deep and fun. I loved every song they played, and that never happened. I was the kind of picky bastard that savagely tore apart a weak bridge.

“Good night, everyone,” Serena crowed. “You’ve been amazing.”

I rose as she jogged off the stage. Chandler took her place and talked up their website and where they’d be playing next. I made a beeline for backstage.

“Hold up.” The guy that introduced them intercepted me in front of the door. “You can’t go back there.”

“You’ll find that I can, playboy.” I flashed him my card. “Jaxson Van Zandt. Interstellar Records.”

His mouth fell open. “But you can’t— You can’t be— The band’s going to freak!”

I winked. “Want to witness the glorious moment?”

The guy tore off, leaving us behind. “Ty! Serena!”

Gwen and I followed at a more dignified pace. We spotted him in time to see him dart through the door at the end.

“—believe who’s here!”

We walked inside their makeshift dressing room. The space was even more cramped than my office, and made smaller by Serena’s presence. She filled the entire space. Every eye was on her, even the furniture was angled to face the woman perched on the stool. But she looked back at me as Rylan dabbed her damp chest.

In a blink, her lips twisted. “Who are they? My biggest fans?” she scoffed. “Get the fuck out of here, kid. No autographs.”

The guy made a choked noise, the opposite of the laugh that came from me.

“What is it about my look that screams scabby-kneed child on the playground?” I closed the distance between us. “I’m not here for your autograph, though I suspect it’ll be valuable one day. I’m Jaxson and this is Gwen. We’re from Interstellar Records.”

Rylan stilled, eyes widening.

“Are you serious?” The voice came from behind me. “Did you just say Interstellar?”

“That’s right, Chandler,” said Gwen. “You guys have a minute to talk?”

“Do we? I can’t believe this. Did you guys hear our set? Did you come to hear us play?” His voice rose with excitement. “This is insane.”

My eyes locked with Serena. Ty, Chandler, and Rylan were buzzing. She had yet to utter a word.

“You were amazing up there,” said Gwen. “I’ve actually been following you guys for a while. I’m excited Interstellar is offering you this opportunity.”

Serena cocked her head. “What opportunity would that be?” She spoke in response to Gwen, but the question was for me.

“We’d like you to come in and record a demo,” I said. “We can have you in the studio as soon as next week.”

Rylan and Ty seized each other, jumping up and down and carrying on like they were going to burst into tears. Chandler’s hug was for me.

“Yes, yes, yes!” he cried. “We’ll be there. Thank you so—”

“No.”

Rylan and Ty came down so fast they stumbled into the couch. Chandler slowly released me.

“Serena?” he said.

She stepped off her stool, green simmering pools zeroed on me. The closer she came, I noticed her glittering red hair was the result of real glitter.

“No,” she repeated in my face. “We’re not wasting our time recording a demo that you’ll throw on a pile and never look at again. If you want Beyond Berlin, then bring us in to sign a contract.”

“Serena,” Chandler hissed. “What are you doing?”

“Be quiet, Chandler.” She shoved him aside.

Up close, the spell of the music, lights, and hazy room faded. She was not ethereal. And if I touched her snarling mouth or the furrows between her flashing eyes, they’d be very real.

“We want a contract, tour dates, and a recorded album in the next few weeks. Not a damn demo.”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that,” I said evenly. “You’re a local hit averaging two thousand views a YouTube video. You’re good. Extremely good. But at this point, still a risk. We’d record the demo, run it past the manager and director, and then we can talk contracts. From what I heard tonight, you won’t have a problem getting one.” I