Rock Me Slower (Licks of Leather #3) - Jenna Jacob Page 0,8

How could you have set everything up in such short…” Then it dawned on me. “I’m an opening act, aren’t I?”

“You are.” He grinned again.

“For who?”

“Licks of Leather, of course.”

My stomach dropped to my toes before ricocheting up to the back of my throat.

Licks of fucking Leather?

No. Please, god… No. Anyone but them.

I’d open for Slash Devils and fend off dirty Devon’s advances if it meant I didn’t have to tour with Ozzy and the Licks of Leather frat boys.

“I’m the lucky bastard who’s been blessed to represent the two hottest names in rock,” Quinn continued, nearly bursting at the seams with excitement and pride. “Adding Phoenix to the tour is going to make the planet explode.”

Suddenly Ozzy’s cryptic comment plowed through my head. That’s reassuring since we’re going to be spending a whole lot of time together soon.

Son of a bitch. He’d known. That sneaky bastard had known Quinn was going to offer me this gig and didn’t say a fucking word.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

If I hadn’t been so distracted by everything Ozzy, I would have pressed him for an explanation.

“So, do I draw up a contract, or…?” Quinn asked expectantly.

Whether it was Licks of Leather or Pavarotti, I couldn’t turn this chance down. I might not be handling seeing Ozzy again well, but the shit between us was ancient history. If I wanted to be viewed as a professional artist, I had to take on some hard challenges.

If I kept my distance, and my heart under lock and key, and didn’t give Ozzy a reason to kick the ground out from under my feet again, it would work. And if I fucked up and he found out I still ached for his miserable ass, the worst he’d do is laugh in my face. But I wouldn’t wallow in misery for long. When he walked away the first time, without looking back, I’d found the strength to pick myself up, nurse my wounded pride back to health, and make my own way.

I hadn’t just survived; I’d flourished and earned myself a platinum record. Hopefully after tonight, I’d have a Grammy or three to showcase alongside it.

“Are the guys from Licks okay with this?”

Quinn’s expression turned dissecting. “For the most part.”

I didn’t need a doctorate to read between the lines. Ozzy had balked at the news.

“Does that mean they weren’t receptive?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Quinn assured. “They’ve been touring solo forever. They just need a little time to warm up to the idea of sharing the stage.”

In other words, Ozzy hadn’t told him about our past. If I needed any more proof the man gave zero fucks about me, I had it now. Though that fact foolishly chafed like a mother, it would definitely keep me from confessing I still loved him.

Yeah, well, you can kiss my ass, too, Ozzy Page.

“Then I say yes. Draw up a contract.”

A sheepish smile tugged his lips. “I already did. It’s in your email as we speak.”

I knew now exactly how Quinn MacKinnon had earned his cutthroat reputation in this industry.

“What if I’d said no?”

He scoffed with a wide grin. “Curiosity would have made you open the attachment, and you would have instantly changed your mind.”

“Are you always this sure of yourself?”

A devilish gleam danced in his eyes. “Yeah.”

“So, your offer’s that good, huh?”

“This one tour I’m offering will net you triple what you could have made in a lifetime with Gerry Huber.” Though he was clearly denouncing my former agent, there wasn’t a trace of malice in Quinn’s tone, simply fact. “You’ll soon learn that I go above and beyond to make my clients happy. Sharing the wealth ensures a smooth relationship for all.”

That was incentive enough for me to take a look at Quinn’s contract to see if he was really putting the money where his mouth was.

When we reached my seat, Ava took my hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Are you nervous about singing tonight?”

Lord. I’d been so sidetracked with all the peripheral shit piling up around me, I’d completely spaced off the fact that I was performing tonight.

“Not at all,” I lied as butterflies took flight. I hadn’t been the least bit nervous until I realized I’d be singing for Ozzy again.

You’re not singing for him, a little voice in my head reminded. Technically, no, but he would be in the audience, just like the night we’d met.

“Good. Looks like Ava, me, and the ladies will be sitting directly behind you.” Quinn beamed. “If you need anything, don’t be