At that, she grinned back. “Rivers Shine. The hottest guy in the entire industry, and the rock star you’ve had a crush on since we were fourteen. But he can’t be the reason we go, Lila.”
I turned, grabbed the wheel, and stared at the road ahead, seeing, instead of the street back into our neighborhood, an audience stretching out in front of us. A huge stage. People singing our music and cheering for us.
A contract.
Sure, Rivers Shine was great. Insanely hot, all tattoos and brooding heartbreak. Eyes that went so deep I’d always wondered what sort of secrets they held. Whether he’d ever seen happiness at all. And a horrible reputation. The guy who slept with a different girl every freaking night.
According to the stories.
I’d always wanted to meet him. I’d always wondered if he was actually as bad—or as hot—as everyone said he was. And if I followed them on the road, I’d get to see him up close and personal. I might find out how bad he really was.
But I didn’t even care about that.
Because it was going to be way hotter to get in front of Olivia Johns and Connor Wheating and show them exactly what we could do.
“We’re going,” I said sharply. “And we’re going to win that contract.”
“And ogle Rivers Shine in the meantime?” Anna asked, still smirking.
I shrugged. “I mean, it wouldn’t be the worst thing. But he’s not the one we’re going for. Meeting Olivia and Connor…”
“If we can even get their attention.”
“If we can get their attention,” I agreed.
Because she was right. Following the tour would be one thing.
Landing an audition and nailing it… Standing up against all the other acts that might be following them, and making ourselves heard when people like Rivers Shine were standing right next to us? That was going to take luck. And luck hadn’t exactly been our friend lately.
But that was about to change. I could feel it.
2
RIVERS
Islammed the door behind me and stalked from one end of my hotel room to the other, hands clenched and heart beating a furious tattoo against my ribs.
God, I hated this gig. I hated the people and the cameras and all the fucking reporters all the time. The people expecting me to get out there and play the version of Rivers Shine they knew and thought they loved, just so they could write more articles about how terrible I was and how much I took my life for granted.
I fucking hated them all.
And a whole lot of the time, I hated myself for playing along with it.
Not that I ever changed my behavior in response to that feeling.
I let a smirk creep across my face and made my way to the mini fridge in the room, jerking it open and looking for my favorite drink. Johnny Walker Black Label. Perfect. I yanked it off the shelf, busting right through the tape the hotel had put there to secure it, and unscrewed the cap. Then I paused long enough to eye the can of Coke sitting on the next shelf.
Any civilized person would take a moment and mix a drink. Put some Coke and ice in a glass to gentle the whiskey a bit.
But I’d never been civilized.
I threw the cap to the side and held the bottle to my lips, tipping it back and letting the whiskey burn its way down my throat. The same way I’d been doing since I was fourteen years old.
Then I sent the bottle flying toward the wall and made for the phone. I was going to need a whole lot more than that little sample of Jack to forget the mess of an interview I’d just done. All those pointed questions about the girl I’d been seen with last week. The not-so-subtle insinuation that my reputation might be harming my band’s chances at hitting it big. The even-less-subtle note that Olivia and Connor had done the Writers a favor by taking us on tour, and that they might drop us if I didn’t clean up my act.
Fuck them. Fuck that bitch reporter. I’d been doing this for ten years now—since I was fourteen and pop rock’s brand new Golden Kid—and I knew a thing or two about how the industry worked. The fans wanted excitement and drama. They wanted someone with a great voice who could entertain and scandalize them on the pages of the magazines.
They wanted someone who walked a line they’d never have walked on their own.
