The Rock Star’s Fake Fiancee - Kenzie Reed Page 0,69

we’re both ready, nothing’s going to stop me from telling everyone that we’re together.

“We’ll discuss this at a later point,” I say coolly.

“There’s nothing to discuss. Not if you want to be allowed to tour and release your music.”

Magnus’s face darkens in a scowl and he bites back a curse. Fortunately, he and the other band members are sitting out of range of the phone’s screen, but I don’t want Chris to hear him. I make a shushing motion with my hand.

“What are you doing?” Chris snaps. “Who are you waving at?”

“What’s that? I can’t hear you.” I tap my ear.

“Bullshit. I can hear you just fine.”

Monica starts making loud staticky sounds. “Kkkk…sshhhhh…kkkkk…shhhh…”

Then Parker joins in.

“Psssh, psshhh…”

“Shhhhh, shhhhh, shhhhh…” Magnus contributes.

“Sorry, we’re going through a bad spot…so much static…what did you say?” My lips quiver as I fight not to laugh.

“That is literally just some people making whooshing noises!” Chris’s face clenches like an angry butthole. “Quit screwing around!”

“I can see your lips moving but I can’t hear a word!” I yell, then I press the power button on the side of the phone with my thumb. “Oops. I just lost him.” I shake my head sadly.

Monica and Parker laugh out loud once I’ve hung up.

“Classic,” Monica says.

Magnus’s phone starts ringing. He glances at it. “It’s Beelzebub.”

“Don’t answer it,” I order him.

He snorts. “No shiznit.”

Monica huffs out an exasperated breath. “Chris is such a douchecanoe.”

“You’d think he’d be happy with us.” Parker shakes his head. “All of our concert dates have sold out, we’re looking at adding more dates, and we’ve got two singles topping the charts now.”

“Also, Russell is beyond incompetent. He’s got no sense of what works and what doesn’t. He’s totally wrong about Callie being bad for your public image,” Monica says. “I’m killer at the social media game. Marrying a small-town country girl whose family owns a historic hotel and a bunch of apple orchards? That would be amazing for your image. To say nothing of the big reveal—it would be front-page news worldwide.”

“Nepotism at its finest.” If Russell wasn’t Chris’s distant cousin or whatever he is, he’d be a coffee-fetching intern, not even trusted to send emails.

“Russell’s meeting us at the gig, right?” Monica says. “Maybe I can sweet-talk him. He gets all tense whenever he has to deal with you guys, but he’s a little better when he’s talking to me.”

“Let’s leave it for now. If Callie says yes to going public, then we can revisit it.”

“I don’t know how much more of this bullshit I want to deal with.” Magnus’s eyes have gone dark with anger. Dealing with Chris’s constant negativity is harder on him than it is the rest of us. It sends him back to when we were teenagers. Nothing was ever good enough for our stepfather. Magnus was subject to constant belittlement for everything he did. Hell, he couldn’t even breathe right, as far as our stepfather was concerned.

“Listen,” I say quickly, anxious to stave off his plunge into gloom. “We’re touring for a solid year. We’re going to kick ass all over the country. After that, we’ll reconsider. We’ll only have two years left on the contract. We’ll be coming off a mega-successful concert tour, we’ll have more negotiating power, and if Chris doesn’t play ball at that point, I think we could afford to just stay home and wait him out until the contract ends.”

Magnus rubs his face with his hands. “If we even last through the entire tour.” Once he goes into a downward mood-spiral, it’s hard to pull him out.

“I’m sorry I roped us into this nightmare contract.” Guilt twists at me. “I should have fought harder for better terms.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Magnus’ eyes meet mine, and the old pain is shining through. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to.”

Abruptly, he gets up and stalks out of the lounge area. A minute later I hear his bedroom door slam.

We’re due at the auditorium for sound check in an hour.

“You’re sure nobody went in my room?” I ask Leon, our new head of security. He’s an older man with a clipped gray crewcut and a gut that laps over his belt. He’s sitting on a chair in the hallway outside our suite of rooms.

He scowls at me. “I already told you, no.”

I fix him with a cold look. “You can lose the attitude, Leon. We’ve had multiple security issues, a lot of which were the result of our previous security company falling down on the job.

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