Page 16 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
The word “free” hangs in the air like an accusation.
“Look, I’m just saying,” Chase continues, “maybe we should talk to my dad about getting us actual studio time. Someplace where people can’t just wander in.”
Ryder runs a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched. “Great. So what? You’re just going to tell your dad that my equipment got destroyed? That’ll be a good look.”
“I mean, it’s not likeyoucan just replace it,“ Brooks says, and there’s an edge to his voice. “No offense, Hamilton, but two thousand dollars isn’t exactly—“
“I know,” Ryder snaps. “You think I don’t know that?”
“Whatever,” Chase grumbles. “The point is, we’re two weeks out from the showcase and our setup is trashed.” He looks at mewith pure disgust. “Because some people don’t know how to stay out of places they don’t belong.”
“Seriously,” Brooks agrees, his anger redirecting back to me. “What were you even doing here? You know we’re practicing.”
“I heard the music,” I whisper. “I just…”
“You just what? Decided to crash in and ruin everything?” Chase’s voice is sharp. “Do you have any idea what’s at stake here?”
Before I can answer, quick, purposeful strides echo from the hallway.
Miranda appears in the doorway, her yoga clothes replaced by a pencil skirt and a silk blouse. Her hair still perfect, her makeup flawless, but there’s tension around her eyes.
“What happened?” she demands, taking in the scene. “I heard shouting from my office.”
“Your niece happened,” Ryder says, and his voice could freeze blood. “She destroyed my equipment.”
Miranda’s gaze fixes on me with laser intensity. “Alice. Explain. Now.”
“I heard the music,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I just wanted to listen, and I tripped.”
“She threw her drink all over the amp,” Chase interrupts, gesturing at the sticky mess. “And broke the keyboard.”
“It’s not broken,” I try to say. “It’s just cracked.”
“We can’t play the showcase with it on the stage, looking like that,” Brooks cuts me off. “It’s wrecked. And that amp is making weird noises. If the circuits are fried…”
“This is exactly why we need a proper studio space,” Chase says, his voice rising. “Somewhere professional. My dad could—“
“Could what, Chase?” Miranda’s voice cuts through the room like a knife. Her tone is pleasant, almost sweet, but there’s something behind her eyes. “Your father could pay for studio time? Rent you space in town?”
Chase hesitates. “Well… yeah. I mean, it would make sense. We’d have proper security, backup equipment…”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Miranda says, her smile never wavering. “Why don’t you call him right now? Tell him you need him to invest more money in the band. See how it goes for you.”
Chase’s face flushes. “Look, I didn’t…”
“It’s okay, darling.” Miranda’s smile widens. “You’re just concerned about the band. I understand completely. But let me be very clear: I’m your only hope right now. Before me, you couldn’t even get a gig playing the school dance. I’m the one who found Ryder, brought him here, and got you on the Jameson Late Show. I’m working on getting you a spot with Sound Nation. So, I ask, does involving your father right now sound like a good idea?”
“Well, no,” Chase mumbles, properly chastened. “I just…”
“Good.” Miranda’s attention shifts back to me, and her expression hardens. “Now, as for this situation.”
“She needs to be banned,” Brooks interjects, still glaring at me. “She can’t come near our practice space ever again.”
“Oh, she’ll be staying far away from your rehearsals,” Miranda assures him. “Won’t you, Alice?”
I nod frantically, barely able to catch my breath.
Chase locks his bass in its case. “Maybe we should call it for today.”
