at a dressing table, chatting away as Monica paints over the last of Callie’s freckles. They giggle and glance in my direction from time to time. I walk over to Parker, who’s sprawled on a sofa with a table fan blasting cold air in his face. “I wonder what they’re talking about,” I say to him. “Should I be nervous?”
He shakes his head, smiling. “Nah.”
“Whew.”
His smile twists up into a smirk. “You should be terrified.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this, jerk. Also, fuck you.”
Magnus walks up to us, plops down on the couch, and looks speculatively at Callie. “So, from what you’ve repeatedly said for the past few days, you’re not really into her and this is all for show?”
“Why?” My muscles go tight with tension. My brother is a clown who radiates mild self-loathing wrapped in a cloak of bluster and constant mockery. He’s not her type at all. Is he?
“No reason. She’s got a nice…personality.”
I lean forward and snap my fingers in front of his face, and he redirects his attention from her back to me. “If that’s your way of asking if you can make a move, I wouldn’t. Not if you want to keep your balls attached to your body.”
He grins at me. “So why is that? If you’re not interested?”
“This is his subtle way of trying to force you to admit that you are, in fact, interested,” Parker observes dryly.
I shoot Magnus a dark look. “Do me a favor, never get a job as a therapist.”
Magnus shrugs. “You could do worse.” That pisses me off even more. Callie rates much better than, “You could do worse.”
My phone rings before I can dig myself any deeper. I make a sour face when I see who’s calling, then turn on the face-chat feature.
I settle back into the chair with a resigned look. “Hello, Chris. Yes, everything’s going fine. No, we haven’t had any new disasters.”
He’s sitting in his ultra-modern office, with the industrial décor and the wall full of music industry awards strategically displayed behind him. Too bad he never seems to enjoy the spoils of his success. His face is creased in a familiar scowl; the only time I’ve ever seen him smile is during a press conference.
“You’re sounding awfully flippant about it.”
“I’m not flippant. I just know that we’ve all been doing exactly what we’re contracted to do. We’re not drinking to excess, we’re not getting in fights, we’re spending all day in rehearsals and writing our lyrics, we’re working with the publicist to continue to repair our image and to promote the band.”
“And yet some members of the press are continuing to trash-talk you. Our contract states that letting you tour and release new material is dependent on you not just staying out of trouble, but repairing your reputation to the point that people no longer expect you guys to find new ways to fuck shit up.”
When we first signed our contract with him, he wasn’t this much of an asshole. It wasn’t like we had much choice at the time; we were radioactive. Nobody else would take a chance on us. Still, he and his wife Skylar both seemed enthusiastic about signing us on.
Over the past few months, though, he’s gotten more and more irritable, stressed and controlling. And not in a good way, because his decisions are both stupid and non-negotiable. Like hiring Russell, a moderately competent bundle of nervous twitches, to handle our publicity.
“You do realize there’s only so much of it we can control?” I say with barely concealed impatience. “There’ve been several times when we wanted to sue for libel and slander, and you wouldn’t let us. If we could aggressively pursue people who openly lie about us, we’d go a long way towards cleaning up our reputation.”
“I’m not going to risk alienating the press by filing lawsuits.”
Frustration brews in my gut. The only people we’d be suing already hate us. It’s mostly Make Noize, then a few wannabes who follow their lead and reprint false rumors. “Then you’re handicapping us at every turn. You do realize that if we can’t make money, you can’t make money?”
His brows draw together in a scowl. “If you’re asking me if I’m aware I made a bad bargain when I bought your contract, yes, that’s starting to occur to me.”
I know I shouldn’t let him bait me, but I’m just about to bite his head off when Skylar appears in the background. “Chris, we’re going to be late to the club!” she snaps