Page 85 of Wicked Angel
“If you didn’t notice, I’m slightly the hot topic of gossip and scandal right now. Which is why I don’t read the news or hang out on social media. I hate that shit. I’d rather not have to experience it right in my face.” More than a few people were sending looks our way, trying to read the exchange between us, and I wasn’t loving it.
“Well, as I’ve explained to you, the only way to silence a scandal is to replace it with a new conversation.”
“Yeah, and I don’t have an album in the works or a new lead singer to announce. That’s the only thing anyone wants to talk about.”
She frowned at me again, but at least there was a shred of what I took to be empathy in it, or something. “I’m sure it’s not like that.”
“Oh, it is.”
She saw something past my shoulder and brightened. “Let’s go say hi to Seth. He’s with Zane.”
Yeah. Fucking great idea. Just who I wanted to talk to. Seth Brothers, her brother-in-law, rhythm guitarist in Vancouver’s most beloved band, Dirty. And worse, Zane Traynor, Dirty’s lead singer and the reigning local god of rock ’n’ roll. Most successful vocalist to come out of this city in the last decade, at least. And a guy I’d never really gotten along with all that well, historically. “How about let’s not.”
“Why? You played that show with Zane and Wet Blanket, what was that, like, six months ago?”
“Eight. And just because I stepped in as a guest at a small local show for his side project charity band doesn’t make us best buds. We respect each other as musicians.”
“Okay. So, he respects you as a musician. Do you hear yourself? You’ve gotta give people a chance tofeelfor you, Johnny. If he can feel respect for you, he can feel empathy for what you’re going through, too. Your colleagues are your peers. They could be your friends. If you stopped seeing them as competition all the damn time.”
“They are competition.”
“Colleagues,” she corrected me. “Dirty and the Players are super tight friends. They tour together all the time, support each other. They share the same management. You need to shed that chip on your shoulder, the one dedicated to anyone who has more than you.”
I took a sip of my drink. “I don’t have a chip on my shoulder.”
She scoffed. “Tell me what you think of Zane Traynor,honestly, Johnny. No bullshit.”
I glanced around to make sure no one was hearing this over the music. “Why?”
“The first things that come to mind,” she pressed. “Don’t go reaching for insults or criticism just because you can. What do you actually think of him?”
I stared at her. What was it about this girl that made me put up with her, even when she fucking irritated me?
Still hadn’t decided if this whole working with her thing was a stroke of genius or an exercise in madness. She made an exceptional point or two, now and then. She also pissed me off in a way that nothing and no one had pissed me off in a long damn time.
And talked way too fucking much.
I drew closer to her, making sure I had her ear, and hers alone. “I think he’s incredibly talented, okay? And despite not being able to play an instrument other than a harmonica, he’s one of the most naturally gifted musicians I’ve ever met. I also think he’s underrated, mainly because of the genre he sings, and maybe because he’s been known to be an alcoholic, unpredictable, erratic and have an overly sexualized public image.”
Angeline blinked at me, taking that in. Surprised or impressed, maybe, that I’d given it that much thought. When literally, this shit was all I thought about. She had no idea the depths of my competitiveness.
“Well,” she said carefully, “wouldn’t it be nice if people judged us on our work alone, and not on our image or the gossip that surrounds our personal behavior?”
“Yeah. Real nice.”
“So, if that’s what you think of him, speak to him like that’s how you think of him. Genuinely. It’ll go a long way to smoothing things out between you. It’s okay to admire people. Pretending you don’t is just… douchy.” She took me by the arm and started tugging me across the room.
“I didn’t say I wanted to go talk to him,” I grumbled, but I went with her. Mostly because she was touching me, and I didn’t particularly want her not to.
“It’s called making new friends, Johnny. You should try it once in a while. All your besties are like, rich-boy high school bros, right?”
“Don’t knock my friends. You don’t even know them.”
She stopped. “Oh, I know them. Dane, Lex and Shane, right? They’d kill for you, just like you would for them, ’til death do us part, right? But what the hell do they really know aboutyou?” She jabbed me in the chest, just like she did that night when she was wasted. “They aren’t musicians, much less famous musicians. They don’t know that part of your life, intimately. They don’t know what it’s like to be you. But guess what?” She indicated Seth and Zane with a sweep of her arm. “Those guys do.”
Before I could say anything else to stall her, she grabbed my arm again and dragged me right over to Seth and Zane. They were standing by a big booth full of people, flanked by some big dudes from Dirty’s security team. “Hey, Seth,” Angeline said, interrupting their conversation. They didn’t seem to mind. “Hey, Zane.” She gave Seth a hug, then hugged Zane as he greeted her.
“Heyyy.” Zane looked her over in her little black dress. “Looking scorching, Little Elle.”
