Page 121 of The Temptation of Truth
I snap my attention up from my phone screen and blink at my manager. His eyebrow is arched, and his lips are pursed. It’s a look I’ve seen many times, just never directed at me.
“What?”
“Did you hear a word I just said?”
“No.”
“Are you ill?”
I blink, and my brows furrow. “Am I what?”
“You’re not my problem child, Rossi, so either you’re ill, or it’s time for me to retire.”
I blink again as I process his statement. I can feel my band’s eyes on me, but I keep mine on Hammond as I slowly raise my hand to my mouth and fake a cough.
“I’m sick.”
He’s unamused, and I watch as he pulls his phone from his pocket, makes a call, and barks an order to whoever is on the other end.
“Rossi needs cough drops.”
He hangs up, slides his phone back into his pocket, and hits me with another arched brow.
“Anything else?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Thanks, Dad.”
He doesn’t acknowledge me again, and I do my best to pretend to listen to what he’s saying about calendars, show times, and set lists. We’re filming all seven Sydney shows, and we have another fan meet and greet before the show tomorrow night. This is all stuff I already know, but Hammond is nothing if not thorough, and I don’t make the mistake of looking at my phone again.
By the time our manager dismisses us, my phone has buzzed multiples times with texts, and I’m dying to see if they’re from Aurora. Instead, though, I’m cornered by a suspicious looking Sav, and my hackles rise.
“You guys coming to grab food with us?” Jonah asks, but Sav doesn’t look away from me as she answers.
“No. We’ll order something.”
I break my stare off with Sav to look at Jonah and Torren. They’re both smirking.
“What?” I spit.
“It’s just nice to see the golden child get in trouble, is all,” Torren says with a laugh.
“Good thing, too. Can’t have Ham thinking we’ve gone easy on him,” Jo adds, and I roll my eyes.
“You are literally asleep by 10 p.m. every night there isn’t a show, and you’ve replaced liquor with ginger tea.”
Torren snorts a laugh, so I whip my attention to him.
“And you’re just as boring, Mr.Newspaper and Black Coffee at 5 a.m. You’re one pair of white sneakers away from a lawn care routine.Easyis an understatement.”
“Exactly,” Torren says, ignoring my weak jibe as he heads to the door. “That’s why we’re glad you’re taking up the torch.”
“If you need help on how to be the problem child, Mabes, I got you covered,” Jo says.
I flip them both off and keep my middle fingers up until the door shuts behind them.
“We need to talk.”
I turn my attention back to Sav and try to act unbothered by her cold tone. “Okay. Talk.”
