OB Hardy—”
“Oh, hell fucking no.” Saber interrupted Ash, slapping his hands on the table. “This is my band. I make the personnel decisions, and they’ve already been made.”
“Um, no, actually you don’t make autonomous decisions anymore,” Ash said, assuming the opposite of a confrontational stance.
Leaning back in his chair, he steepled his hands and peered steadily over them at Saber. He reminded me of Mary Timmons, the owner of Black Cat Records who had earned the title of ice queen with mannerisms like that.
“You signed an intent with Outside,” Ash said firmly. “OB Hardy is technically my band now, unless you have several million dollars lying around to buy your exclusive rights back.”
“You’re not a dude.” Shield leaned his elbow onto the table, his bicep flexing as he gave Ash an insolent look beneath tousled brown hair darker and not nearly as long as mine.
That nonregulation length must really chafe our old man’s ass. He hated the band for certain.
This career path for my brothers was not at all what I’d envisioned them doing. They were the favored sons, the obedient sons, though Saber being twenty-seven years old and Shield being twenty-two now, it was unlikely they lived under our father’s roof or were subject to his authority anymore. When I left, I’d always assumed they would go into the military to please our father.
Apparently, I’d assumed wrong.
“You’re the fucking man.” Shield spat out the words bitterly, shaking his head at Ash. “I thought you had our back, but you stabbed us in it instead.”
“Not true,” Ash said, frowning.
“True that we sold out to the fucking machine.” Shield glanced at Saber, obviously expecting his outrage to be backed up.
Saber didn’t do that, though he wore a contemplative expression. Whatever thoughts he had, he currently held them in reserve. I imagined he was waiting to see how things played out. That was what he’d done in the weeks before I’d left when the drama between my old man and me reached shouting level.
“We should have signed with Zenith Productions.” Shield plopped back in his chair, throwing up his hands.
“That would have been a mistake,” Ash said calmly. “Charles Morris would have been the man with you, for sure. I’m still a dude, though I’m also your boss.” Ash arched a sardonic brow. “And I’m a boss with a great deal of resources at my disposal. Resources I plan to employ on your behalf to afford you the opportunity to share your music with the world, and at the same time make it possible for you to earn a lot of money.”
“Okay. We’re listening.” Saber lifted his chin.
Shield nodded, listening now too instead of popping off.
Ash fixed his blue gaze on Saber. “But neither of those things are going to occur with a second-rate guitarist and a bassist whose only real qualification is being your friend.”
Ultimately, it was Saber’s band. Ash had made that clear during his pitch. But he hadn’t mentioned changing the bassist position. He was majorly switching things up.
I forced myself to focus more closely on the conversation, which meant trying harder to ignore the woman beside me and how good she smelled and looked.
And how badly I want her.
“Alex and Randy aren’t all that bad,” Saber said through gritted teeth. He was pissed. He had a longer fuse than mine, but once it was lit, it was lit. His fingers were curved into fists so tight, his knuckles were white.
“You’re right. They’re worse,” Ash deadpanned.
I noticed Lotus’s lips twitch. My plan to ignore her wasn’t working.
For one thing, I could see her out of the corner of my eye. Furthermore, I could smell her. Every time I inhaled, I drew her sweet and intoxicating scent into my lungs. I didn’t know what the fuck that fruity fragrance was, but it made me think of a pineapple submerged in the deepest, purest blue water. I could feel her body heat too. Being this close to her, my entire body buzzed like I was a guitar plugged into an amp with too much electrical current.
“Which other instruments do you play?” Saber asked, training his gaze on me.
“Guitar, mainly,” I said, steadily returning his stare.
Physically, Saber was basically the same as I remembered, though there were a few new finely etched lines around his eyes. It seemed that I’d undergone more changes than he had. My voice was deeper now, and I’d grown several inches. I’d also bulked out.
My jaw was stronger after being wired shut and more defined, but those