Page 13 of Wicked Angel
“How am I not dealing with this?”
He sighed quietly, but this time his eyes held mine. “You fucked up, my friend,” he said.
And I realized…
He fucking knew. Maybe they both knew.
About last night. The fundraiser.
Fucking Brianna.
“It’s all over the internet,” he added grimly.
“Like I care,” I said evenly.
I didn’t, really. It still surprised the hell out of me, the kind of trivial junk the media and the world at large were so interested in. Like, who the fuck cared? Which was why I generally stayed away from it.
It was just noise, and I had enough noise of my own to deal with on the best of days.
Yash knew I didn’t keep social media apps on my phone, or the fucking internet. No one but my closest friends and whatever women I was seeing had my phone number. And none of them had said anything to me. So whatever was “all over the internet” couldn’t be that bad.
Bad enough to have Yash sweating.
“Why don’t you come sit down,” Trey said cooly.
I sat back down and sighed. “You’re gonna tell me this problem with JC is entirely my fault?”
“That’s not what anyone’s saying,” Yash assured me.
“Except JC,” I challenged.
“We all need to take responsibility for our shit,” Yash said diplomatically. “We all know the band has had some struggles. But we were feeling really tight when we signed this record deal.”
“Yeah. We were.”
“So what happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
Yash cleared his throat. “Well, last night, something happened that was… unacceptable… to JC. So, now we need damage control, or we’ve got a serious problem.”
I knew he was right.
I could feel Trey’s eyes on me.
What happened last night… what Ilethappen… If JC was seriously this pissed about it… It could threaten everything, from our current recording contract to our ongoing career as a band. I didn’t exactly think about that when my lead singer’s girlfriend had my cock in her mouth, though.
I mean, if you could call her his girlfriend. What kind of girlfriend does that shit?
“This is our fifth fucking album,” I reminded them both, “and we’re not going anywhere.”
“There’s a window, Johnny,” Trey reminded me right back. “Cary just finished up with the Players’ album. It’s now or never. The Players are going on tour with Dirty in September. They’ve got rehearsals, video shoots. They’re scheduled—”
“Yeah. I know. You don’t have to explain to me how busy they are—”
Video shoots.
It hit me, suddenly. The Players were holding auditions for one of their music videos in town, and my sister was auditioning as a dancer. And I fucking forgot. That was today, right?
