Page 16 of Behind the Lyrics
My cue to leave.Turning, I trudged down the hall, away from the loud music, the laughter, and the groans of making out.
I wonder what Angela’s doing. Did she go straight to bed after I left?I climbed the winding staircase to my oversized room, shut the door, and undressed. I had an early morning of rehearsals. Hopefully, the other guys wouldn’t be too wasted to pull their load. Leaving a trail of clothes on the floor behind me, I pushed into the bathroom.
I turned on the shower, slid inside, and stood under the rainfall, letting the hot water wash away the tension in my shoulders. Angela’s face invaded my thoughts. She’d obviously rushed from a shower or bath when I’d appeared on her doorstep, because her hair had been wrapped in a loose bun with damp tendrils falling down her smooth neck.
After her initial shock at seeing me, once I’d kindly convinced her to let me inside, there’d been something in her eyes. Desire, maybe? Curiosity? Whatever it was, I wanted more of it. Those slanted, toffee-colored eyes on mine stripped me bare but also held a secret, as if she knew something about me I didn’t.
At first glance, she’d appeared cold and harsh. But when she’d let down her guard—like the plants of the desert in the morning when the sun graced their surface—she’d blossomed under my touch and opened, her gentle smile a welcome respite from loneliness and thirst. I’d wanted to yank her against my body and never let go, never let that smile falter, and never look at another woman again.
Perhaps I had it wrong, though. Maybeshewas the life-giving sun, andIthe sleeping desert flower yearning for her warmth.
Chapter 15
Angela Morales
“Woman, have you checked your messages? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all morning.” Terri sat at the tiny desk in the front office, her fingertips midair above her keyboard. An eyebrow quirked.
“Jesus, give me a break. I just barely walked through the door.” With a flavored water in one hand, I juggled my purse’s strap for a better grip. “What’s up?”
She shook her head and widened her eyes. “You have no clue, do you?”
“You really did win the lottery?” I tried to tamp down rising annoyance. Sometimes, she could be so dramatic.
Without a word, she shifted her laptop so the monitor faced me. Several social media top news stories flashed pics of Viktor Farrow either outside my apartment or audio replays of our interview from yesterday with commentary.
“What the hell?” I dropped my purse and set my drink on her desk, falling into the chair opposite hers with an audible exhalation. “What is all of this?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing, sugar pie. Wanna tell me why that gorgeous hunk of a man”—her long, manicured fingernail pointed to Viktor’s scowling face outside my apartment door, which must’ve been right after I made him leave, and she clucked her tongue—“was doing at your place?”
My gaze slid from hers. “It’s not what it looks like.” I picked at a loose thread on my Pink Floyd T-shirt.
“Mmhmm.” She flipped the computer around and began to read. “Viktor Farrow, the lead singer of Angry Gods, is making a comeback splash. On a spur-of-the-moment decision, he graced Angela Morales of K-ROC with a face-to-face interview, and boy, did it sizzle. Later that night, he was seen leaving her apartment. Sparks flew during the interview, and it sounds like they also ignited later when—”
“Stop.” Fire lit my cheeks, the heat causing my eyes to water.Damn the man.
“That’s just the beginning, girl. Your face is plastered all over these sites.”
I groaned. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Nope. I’ve had sponsors calling all morning to get their ads on air, and hundreds of messages from fans wanting to know if there’s going to be another interview.” She typed something into her phone then flipped it for me to see. “That’show much money came in this morning from the new advertisements.”
I leaned closer, sure my eyes were deceiving me. Nope, it was a five-figure amount. “Holy shit.”
“Holy shit’s right.” She turned her attention to the window, and I followed her gaze.
The midday sun beamed on the barren landscape, but inside, the air conditioning kept it cool and comfortable—unlike my weird relationship with the Angry God of Rock.
“I’ll admit, when you two first met yesterday, I started looking for realtors who’d be interested in selling the station for me.”
“Hey, it wasn’tthat—”
She held up a hand. “But it seems whatever it is you have going on with Mr. Farrow is a godsend.”
“There’s nothing going on.” I leaned into the chair and tucked my hands under my elbows, giving her a glare.
With a sly grin, she rubbed a finger against the top hem of her neon-pink tank top. “You sure about that? Because let me tell you, that man had his eyes alloveryou yesterday, and from what I’ve heard, whoever Viktor Farrow wants, hegets.”
I shot to my feet, feeling queasy and antsy. Every time she said Viktor’s name, excitement tumbled in my stomach and dread tightened my chest.How can a person cause such a conflict of emotions?“In case you haven’t noticed, Viktor’s an asshole. He practically told me I’m too poor for him after he saw the inside of my apartment.”
