Michael sat up straighter and ignored the resulting throb in his head. “You want Mal?”
“Oh hell no.” Elle, who had been quiet up until that point, braced her fists on the table. “Absolutely not. Anyone but that brute.”
“He’s not a brute,” Michael said, feeling obligated to defend his brother.
“Did he pick you up last night as if you were a sack of oranges? No, I don’t think so.” Elle glanced at Lila, who just happened to be her sister-in-law. Elle and Nick were opposites in a lot of ways, except looks. As far as temperament went, however, they couldn’t have been more different.
Until apparently right now.
“I don’t want him in my band. He’s an asshole. Li, you can’t do this.”
Lila exhaled. “Obviously you’ve all made the connection that since Malachi is Michael’s brother, he was also my stepson. The difference is we had no relationship, due to his personal preferences. That has little bearing on this situation. He doesn’t have to like me. I look for talent, and when I spot it, I take steps to ascertain that talent is on our side.” She glanced at Elle. “You know I value your opinion, but I’m sorry. In this arena, who fits each role best is what matters most. Not personal feelings.”
“He was rude to me. He belittled me.” Elle brushed a lock of long blond hair behind her ear, and if Michael wasn’t mistaken, her hand shook. “I don’t want a person like him in my environment.”
“I understand that, and you’re welcome to keep your distance. But I can’t make personnel decisions based on emotion.”
“Right. Like you’ve never done that before when it comes to covering my brother’s ass.” Elle nudged Juliet and their bass player slid out so Elle could slip out of the booth and stalk away.
“Nick 2.0, here we go,” Molly muttered, staring after Elle. “Tantrum city.”
“She’ll be back.” Lila spoke with confidence, but Michael knew his stepmother well enough to understand she was rattled.
Michael knew Lila didn’t particularly adore Mal either. She’d tried so hard with him, and his brother had been an A-1 dick to her in defense of their mother. Lila wanting Mal to join one of the bands she managed had to be a difficult choice, but she was making it anyway.
There was just one problem.
“I texted Mal last night multiple times after the show, during the other bands’ sets. He didn’t reply. I texted him again this morning on my way over here. They aren’t even getting delivered, which means he has his phone off. He’s not interested in all of this.” Michael waved his hand around the table. “One night is about all you’re going to get out of him.”
Lila tapped the tips of her fingers together. “I was unsuccessful at reaching him myself. Not surprising, since he probably has my number blocked. But it’s just a matter of time.” She smiled thinly. “There’s no reason to search for someone new, if we’ve already found the right person. So now it’s just a matter of running him to ground.”
“Good luck with that. When Mal doesn’t want to be found, he isn’t.” Michael took a sip of OJ, then pressed his fingers into his aching forehead. He couldn’t even drink his damn juice. His gut was a mess, and it wasn’t just from the hangover from hell.
He had issues way, way bigger than his brother being MIA. And he didn’t have the first clue how to begin to address them.
“I have my ways.”
“Sure you do. Speaking of ways, how about you giving me Chloe Adams’ phone number?”
He hadn’t meant to ask it. He had no reason to. Surely Chloe would still be in his room when he returned, and then he’d get her information himself. But he had this fucking niggle at the back of his neck to go with his churning stomach and massive headache.
If Chloe ghosted on him, then what?
Ryan cleared his throat and reached for his own glass. Discovering it was empty, he snatched West’s and tossed back the last of his water.
“Hey dude. Get your own.”
Ryan just arched a brow at Michael, who silently passed him the carafe. It wasn’t alcohol, but it would have to do.
Ryan hadn’t believed him about the whole marriage thing. Michael had tried halfheartedly to convince him, but he’d stopped short of showing his best friend the marriage license. Somehow that seemed private. Personal.
Ridiculous.
Ryan had just laughed and gone off to get ready in his half of the suite while Chloe hogged the