Rock Reclaimed (Rock Revenge Trilogy 2)

In time, Simon joined me in the booth. I waited him out. I wasn’t going to antagonize the guy any more than I already had. Probably stupid to pull back the throttle now, considering the way we’d begun, but I couldn’t deny I’d likely called him out on telly in the first place because I’d been pissed at the mounting pressure from Jerry. All I’d heard about in those days was Simon this, Simon that, and executing the plan.

I would be hearing the same now if I wasn’t burying my head in the sand regarding Jerry. Ignoring the bulk of his calls, sending the bits of money I had that wouldn’t cover a drip in a tin bucket, never mind the flood of my debts.

Fitting that I’d titled my EP Living in a Fantasy. Assuming the title passed muster with Sabrina and everyone else w

ho had to sign off on it.

I was a cog in a wheel, but at least the bus was finally rolling.

“You’re scheduled for voice lessons next week.”

Still hanging on to the microphone, I dropped my head back and groaned. “Jesus, Rory, I’m just waking up—”

“You’ve done three takes and guzzled that swill you call coffee besides. You’re awake.” Rory hopped up on the edge of the console where Deacon was seated. He moved levers and pushed buttons, all to bring the best out of my voice.

I could admit I was off this morning. Too many nights spent catching sleep on the studio sofa with a pillow and a notebook jammed under my head. Other nights were filled with Zoe, where rest was not a priority. Because I’d rather fall over than miss a minute I could spend with her.

They were few already, and dwindling.

I closed my eyes and smiled at the memory of her shoving a takeaway cup in my hand filled with her coffee this morning. She’d made it special for me. Rory could call it swill, but to me, it was liquid gold.

“You expect me to sing at inhumane hours. Only the two of you can get in here so early. Even Gray can’t manage it.”

“Gray was up last night with a toddler who had a bad dream. Pretty sure you weren’t occupied thusly.” Rory cocked a reddish-gold eyebrow at me and smirked.

“Thusly? Christ, mate, the English professor bit is getting old. Or is that just your jealousy talking since you haven’t been shagged in a fortnight?”

“Fortnight? Ha. Been a bit longer than that.”

“Pitiful. No wonder that stick up your ass is growing roots.”

“What kind of shagging do you think I’m doing, exactly?”

I had to laugh, hanging on to the microphone for support. I was more than a little lightheaded. No sleep, too much coffee, and too many glorious activities that sapped my fluids all added up to one fucked-up Ian.

And that wasn’t even counting the worries that chased me in the quiet moments, no matter how I tried to pretend they didn’t exist.

“As fascinating as this is, let’s take it from the top again.” Deacon shifted away from the mixing board and nodded at me. “Simon will be here soon, so it’d be good if you had this part nailed before he arrives.”

My amusement fled. Right. Simon would arrive, and I’d be even tenser than I was right now.

I nodded and sucked in a breath. “From the top.”

Deacon hit the acoustic track we’d put together before we called in the studio musicians to lay down the finals. I suspected this wasn’t the usual way of things, but I was so green they were letting me ride with training wheels just now. I appreciated it, even as I vowed to get better.

Starting now.

I cleared my head, letting the opening strings of Gray’s guitar fill my head. I popped in the other in-ear monitor, though I liked to leave one out to get a read on my pitch. That wasn’t what I needed now.

I needed to get lost in the song I’d written with a little help from Rory and Gray, along with some grumbling and snark from my brother.

Bring me to my knees

I’ll be the sinner for you

Broken, on my hands

Crawling back