Page 60 of Songbird: Black Kite
Chapter thirty-five
Hawk
Fourteen Years Ago
“Thisisfuckingbullshit,”I cursed, Charlie nodding stoically at my side as we stepped into the elevator in the parking garage of theCastor Recordsbuilding. “Doesn’t this dick understand how burned out we are?”
We’d only barely finished the tour, dragging our asses through the last few overseas dates like a group of hung dogs, and now he wanted a meeting? In themorning?
Total bullshit.
The doors opened, revealing the obnoxiously decorated offices ofCastor Records, and I stalked through the halls, a man on a mission. When I got to Cornelius’s office, I was waylaid by his latest secretary, a typical L.A. girl with bleached hair, filled lips, and a rack that could not have been natural given the tiny size of the rest of her.
“Hawk!” she squawked, her eyes widening. “I mean, um, Mr. Jameson.” Standing up behind her desk and leaning over far enough that I could see right down her shirt, she tried to get me to stop and talk to her. “Mr. Castor has asked that you wait out here for him. He’ll see you when he’s ready.”
“Mr. Castor asked that, did he?” I replied dryly. “Well, Mr. Castor also asked that I drag my tired self out of bed at the ass crack of dawn the first morning I’m back in the states. That means that Mr. Castor will see me right fucking now.”
With that, I stormed past her desk and through the heavy wooden doors into his over-sized office, leaving Charlie standing guard outside, his broad body blocking the still spluttering receptionist.
Castor sat there, behind his stupidly big desk, his back to the incredible view of downtown Los Angeles with his head bent in quiet conversation with the bane of my fucking existence.
Victoria Castor.
She’d been on tour with us, constantly buzzing around and inserting herself into situations she didn’t belong in and basically just being a pain in the ass. She was everywhere, all the time, right up until the last few dates, when she’d suddenly had to fly back to L.A. for an emergency of some sort. I hadn’t cared one bit, because it meant her meddling ass was out of my hair for once.
But I should have known that even a small break from her shit would come with consequences. Tori didn’t know how to lose; her daddy made sure of that.
Seeing her now, her too-perfect face painted with a smug smile, I knew that I wasn’t going to like whatever the fuck these two had cooked up.
“Hawk,” Cornelius said, his shark’s smile making an appearance. “How nice of you to join us.”
As if I was fuckin’ late or some shit.
“Didn’t exactly give me much choice, did you?”
“Now, now. Let’s not start out with hostility. We have important things to discuss, and I’d like for you to be appreciative of the offer I’m about to make you. Sit down. Let’s get right to it.”
Victoria led the way to the seating area on the far side of the office, sitting down and crossing her legs like she was some kind of femme fatale from a Bond movie or some shit. I rolled my eyes and sat across from her, splaying wide to discourage anyone from joining me.
“Hawk,” Cornelius began, his tone already condescending. “You’ve been a part ofCastor Recordsfor over a decade now.” I snorted. If by part, he meant cash cow, then yeah. He frowned lightly, but continued. “And in that time, there have been some ups and downs with both your career and your personal life.” I had no idea where he was going with this, but I nodded, wary as fuck.
“Just get to the point, Castor.”
“The point,” Tori cut in, her nasally voice grating as she dragged my attention her way. “Is that you’ve really stepped in it this time, Hawk. And once again, Daddy is offering to help clean up your mess.”
“The fuck are you two talking about?”
Stalking back to the desk, I watched as Cornelius gathered a few papers and brought them back our way, tossing them on the coffee table. Huffing in annoyance, I sat forward and picked them up, squinting in confusion as I stared at the lines and lines of handwritten words.
“Is this supposed to mean something to me?” I asked, looking at the two of them in question.
“That is a police report, Hawk. From the Philadelphia PD. Seems there’s been a complaint filed against you from the night of your show there. Charges are pending.”
“Charges for what?” I scanned the papers, but the cramped writing and the legal jargon were just making my head spin. “What the hell do they think I’ve done now?”
I’d been in jail before. A couple of times, actually. Mostly for stupid shit like drunk and disorderly or assault. Fighting was a problem for me a few years back; I just couldn’t seem to control my temper when some loudmouth punk was beakin’ off at me or my guys. I’d had a lot of rage inside me, and after a few shots and a few insults, my fists were the only way I could seem to express myself.
And yeah, more than once, Cornelius had arranged for my release from some of those charges. Harry would pick my ass up, then she’d chew my ass out. No big deal.
