you didn’t win.”
“It’s fine,” she said, lifting her Grammy. “This one’s all the confirmation I need.”
Her jab landed deep, like she’d intended.
Why she assumed I thought her lacking talent was beyond me. Mia had a voice like an angel. When we’d been together, we’d collaborated on a few songs.
No, lack of talent wasn’t what had torn us apart.
“Good. Maybe now you’ll stop slinging arrows at me. I wasn’t the one who fucked everything up,” I quipped with a snarl and strolled away.
Twenty minutes later, we stood beneath the hot spotlights, performing our mega-hit “Empty Nights.” It was hard to work up the usual level of excitement performing for such a subdued crowd. I missed the electricity our fans never failed to deliver. But then, these weren’t our usual fans, and one song didn’t make a concert.
When we finished, it was back to our seats, applauding other winners. Each time I glanced over my shoulder Mia’s eyes were locked on me. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have rubbed salt into her wound, but it was clear she wasn’t going to offer any apologies or extend olive branches. Fine by me. Some fences weren’t meant to be mended. And as Quinn had succinctly stated, I didn’t have to like or even work with Mia. But I did have to find a way to coexist without tearing my hair out.
“The nominees for Best Rock Song of the Year are, Licks of Leather for ‘On The Breeze.’” I jerked my head up and re-focused my attention to the stage. “Reaper, ‘Give Me Your Sons,’ Phoenix, ‘Wild Ride,’ Slash Devils, ‘Rock Your Soul,’ and Blunt for ‘King’s Divide.’”
As the lead singer of some new boy band ripped the envelope open, the thought of Slash Devils’ name on the card made my blood boil. There was no love lost between our bands. Two years ago, front man Devon Halley accused Burk of plagiarism. There was a nasty court battle that ended in our favor after dipshit Devon confessed he’d made up the bogus allegations for a sick publicity stunt. Thankfully, we got sweet revenge. Quinn’s lawyer, Reed Landes, brought the hammer down, and Devon had to cough up eight fat figures in a defamation of character countersuit.
“And the winner is… ‘On The Breeze,’ Licks of Leather.”
Thank fuck.
We leapt from our chairs, clapped each other on the back, and hurried on stage to give our acceptance speeches and collect our award. The entire time, I kept my focus off Mia. But when we turned to head toward the wings, I fucked up and glanced her way only to discover her seat was empty.
As soon as we made it backstage, the announcer’s voice boomed over the PA system. “Performing her second Grammy-nominated song, ‘Hate How Much I Love You.’ Phoenix.”
Stopping abruptly, I watched Mia strut onto the stage, owning it like she had the first time I laid eyes on her. As a myriad of memories assaulted, I clenched my jaw but didn’t shove them away this time. Like a fucking masochist, I allowed them to slide through me, scoring my soul. As Mia began strumming the opening chords of the eviscerating tune, tendrils of regret sputtered through me.
I fucking loathed her song. Every time I heard it, it pissed me off. Sadly, I couldn’t reach up and turn the station, like I did in my car. The voice in my head implored me to turn and walk away, but for some inexplicable reason, I couldn’t peel my eyes off Mia. As she parted her lips and leaned in close to the microphone, she sent me a sidelong glance, verifying I was still watching…still listening. A corner of her mouth kicked up in a cynical smirk, then she took a deep breath and unleashed her pithy lyrics about me and the demise of our relationship.
Clenching my jaw, I let out a low growl. Ross clasped my shoulder in his beefy paw.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here. Every time you hear this song, it fucks you up.”
“Yeah,” Burk seconded. “You already kissed her lips off, which was a really stupid move, by the way—”
“Beyond stupid,” Darren seconded. “You don’t need to torture yourself more.”
“I vote we hit the bar before heading back to our seats.” Syd’s expression was unusually somber.
Fighting to block the familiar voice and soul-singeing lyrics blaring through the speakers, I nodded. “Thanks, and thanks in advance. This tour is going to suck ass.”
“It is, but like I told you earlier, we got your back, man,” Burk