Bedded Bliss (Found in Oblivion #1) - Cari Quinn Page 0,48
his fingers on the edge of his glass of water. No alcohol or even soda most of the time for him. He espoused clean living and all that. “He was hogging my keyboard last night, wasn’t he?”
“Just because I can do one-handed what it takes you two and your dick to accomplish…” Ry trailed off and shrugged.
“Playing drums is a bit different than some antics on the keyboard. He’s capable of that, or playing the blues harp, or the xylophone.”
“Or the bongos on “Steal Away,” Molly added. “We never perform that one, and it’s a perfect showcase for—”
“Your tits, since you always wear a bikini for that song?” Juliet snorted.
Molly poked her in the side. “Bitch.”
“Nah. Your tits are great. Might as well flaunt ‘em. Hell, Mike’s flashing us some dick today, right? Shake what your mama gave you is what I say.” She flashed a smile at the returning waiter, who nearly bobbled the carafe of juice. “And what do you have,” she read his tag, “Javier?”
“Ignore her,” Lila said, grabbing the carafe and using it to fill her empty water glass before handing it to Michael. “Thank you.”
“Er, no problem. Here’s your glass, sir. Does anyone else need anything?”
“Duct tape for our resident sex maniac?” Molly asked sweetly, giving Juliet a sidelong look.
The waiter took that response as a “no” and booked away from the table.
Ryan leaned behind West to shove Michael’s arm. “Damn, Mikey, someone’s trying to steal your crown. Better bump it up a notch, dude.”
Michael poured his orange juice and ignored him. Normally, he enjoyed messing around with his bandmates. They all knew he hated being called anything but Michael, so of course they insisted on calling him every variation in the book. Where he would typically laugh it off, today he wasn’t finding anything amusing.
Especially not being called a sex maniac. He didn’t dispute the assertion—it wasn’t like he denied enjoying the act, and why should he? But considering he couldn’t remember the last time he’d dipped his wick, the nickname stung more than a little.
Fucking alcohol. He was never drinking again. Ever. Hell, he wasn’t even eating those liquor chocolates at Christmas anymore.
Done. Finito. Cold turkey.
“Let’s focus on what’s important, shall we?” Lila asked, sounding patently bored in a way only she could.
She was only about six years older than the crew—something that had disgusted Malachi when he’d learned she was their new stepmother—but she had an air of sophistication and professionalism far beyond her years. She also tolerated zero bullshit.
“And what’s that?” Molly tapped her long pale pink nails against her cup of coffee. She drank the stuff like it flowed in her veins. “We had a kickass show last night, everything is going great—”
“Except the drummer situation,” Lila interjected. “Besides, Ryan was never comfortable behind the kit anyway.”
Ryan said nothing. Michael knew it was sterling truth, but his buddy would never speak up and let down the band. They needed a drummer and he could play drums, so he did it, even if he preferred a more free-flowing role depending on what each song required.
“Perhaps his getting hurt ended up being a blessing in disguise, if he ends up getting to do more of what he wants to. Pain aside, of course,” Lila said to Ryan, who only nodded.
“Okay, so Ryan doesn’t play drums anymore, then what? We search for someone new again? We’ve seen how that went before. As in not well.” West fingered the spiky blond hair that dipped over his forehead. “Can’t say I think that’s the best move now that we’re finally starting to get some traction.”
Lila glanced around the table. “We’re all in agreement that last night’s show was incredible? As is borne out by the tons of vids and positive press online. Everyone is talking about Warning Sign today, and that hasn’t been true after your other concerts.”
“We’ve had great press before,” Juliet protested. “Our Instagram and Twitter followers and Facebook likes keeps climbing. We can’t keep up with the fan mail anymore, especially the letters addressed ‘Dear Molly’s boobs’.”
Molly smiled serenely and sipped her coffee.
Michael just rubbed his temple. Jesus, was this ever going to be over?
He knew he needed to be concerned about the status of the band. The drummer situation had been a problem for a while now, and typically he would’ve been the first one searching for a solution. Hell, his brother had disappeared last night during Brooklyn Dawn’s set and he’d never even been able to properly thank—