Page 75 of A Way Out
One of these days, when it wasn’t so damn raw, he’d have to let Holly know that her stories about life before she ran away to college didn’t do her scary ass mother justice.
Sucked that Maria wasn’t as brave as her sister. Holly had left at eighteen and hadn’t looked back. Maria had tried at thirty-two, and it had lasted for what? A week and a half.
Shit, had it only been ten days? Christ, it felt like he’d known her so much longer than that. They’d clicked, better than he’d clicked with anyone, ever.
It was all fake.
He had to keep telling himself that. All she’d wanted was a little strange, to get a taste of the other side. She’d had her experience, now she was ready to lock herself in her goddamn gilded tower.
He rubbed at his chest. Most of the suckage came from the fact that he’d managed to get his heart broken in a crazy short period of time.
He’d thought Maria was different.
Wrong.
And now he had to tell his bandmates. They’d have to pick up the publicity slack, which would be a giant pain in the ass. Maria had been so good at it. Oz was a decent marketer, but he couldn’t hold a candle to Maria’s skills. Holly and Sam were talking about hiring her to do publicity for Panic Station, too.
Telling Holly that he and her sister were no longer a thing was going to be awkward as hell. Luckily, Holly and Sam were on their honeymoon, so that conversation could be put off for a minute. Maybe he’d just not say anything; let Maria be the bearer of the news.
Their relationship with Panic Station, the close friendship most of the bandmates had developed, was admittedly helping grow Demigoddess Revival’s fanbase. Would this affect the relationship between the two bands? Travis would have a heyday if it did. This was exactly what he’d feared since he found out Parker and Lacey were sleeping together. He’d warned Oz. And Oz hadn’t listened.
But if Holly decided to diss Oz because her sister now hated him, well, there probably wouldn’t be a joint tour in the near future like they’d already started talking about.
His phone vibrated again. This time, he tugged it out of his pocket, hoping against hope…
It wasn’t Maria.
“Finally,” Lacey said when he answered. “What the heck have you been doing that you’ve been ignoring my calls? Never mind, don’t answer that. Are you sitting down?”
“I’m in my car.”
“Well, pull over. Trust me, you do not want to be driving when I tell you this news.”
Jesus, what the hell? Oz obligingly pulled into a parking space in front of a coffee shop called Coffee-A-Roma. A memory of something Maria had told him hit him.
“My mother provided the capital for my sister’s best friend and her mother to start their own business. A coffee shop in the small town where we grew up. The place makes money hand over fist. My mother’s investment was paying dividends within a year.”
Oz stared at the sign for so long, he jumped in his seat when Lacey’s voice burst through his phone. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah,” he said, killing the engine and hopping out of the car. “I’m here.”
He hurried through what had turned into a steady rain and pushed through the glass door into a pretty typical coffee shop, with two and four top tables scattered everywhere and a long counter where customers could watch while the barista created fancy concoctions. A glass display case next to the counter encouraged patrons to add a pastry to their order.
It smelled great in here. He hadn’t yet eaten today, and it was nearly noon. He almost never patronized places like this because that six or seven bucks he’d spend on a single drink could buy him an entire canister of Maxwell House, which would last for a month.
But damn, he could really go for something warm and caffeinated. And a scone. His mother made scones sometimes, and they were fucking awesome. Especially with coffee.
He dropped into the nearest chair. Roughly two-thirds of the tables were occupied, but there was no one in line at the moment, and the barista was busy restocking the pastry display.
“I’m listening,” he said. “What’s up?” Hey, look at that; he sounded almost cheerful. He was a good actor.
Lacey didn’t mince words. “I just took a call from a record label. A big one.”
A record label? Like, a company willing to take them on and allow them to create music…and cover all the costs? Plus pay them a salary on top of it all? “How big?”
“Silver Lining Entertainment big.”
Holy shit. Silver Lining Entertainment was fucking huge. They had more best-selling bands on their payroll than any other label in the world. They were Panic Station’s label. Sam had put in a good word for Demigoddess Revival months ago, but the rep from the label had wanted to play the wait-and-see game.
