“For you, ma’am.” Barry handed me the one with my name on it, but I was too nervous to drink, so I rode the entire way to the Beverly Hills home, holding the coffee between my shaking hands.
Pull it together, Fawn. They can probably smell fear.
When Barry arrived at the gate, I asked him to stop for a moment before driving through. Rolling down the back window where I sat on the side facing the security booth, I extended my still-hot coffee to the guard from yesterday.
“Truce?” I asked when his gaze moved back and forth between me and the cup.
I bet he thinks I poisoned it.
If I ever decided to risk life in prison, I’d definitely go big.
Perhaps murdering my new bandmates?
Slowly, the guard took the Starbucks before taking a sip, grinning, and waving us through.
Sitting back, I sighed my relief. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad, after all.She’s a goddamn disaster.
Braxton played better than the meatheads we auditioned, but she still needed work. A lot of work. Some would argue that my standards were too high, but only pussies with none at all ever said shit like that.
“That was slow and mechanical,” I told her the moment she finished butchering one of our bigger hits. “By the time you pieced together the right chords, the song was over. You need to get out of your head. When you’re in my session, there’s nothing for you in there. Play from here.” I tapped my chest where a heart used to be. I felt like a hypocrite. Sighing, I dropped my hand when Braxton stared at me like she wasn’t impressed. “Or at least play like you have some fucking guts, Fawn.”
Nostrils flaring, she straightened her shoulders. “I want to do it again.”
“You say that like you have a choice.”
I watched her roll her eyes from my peripheral but didn’t comment on it. Three months wasn’t enough time to get sidetracked with other shit like her fucking attitude and why it made my dick hard.
Today, she’d pinned her hair up, showing off her long neck and the black choker with a gold, crescent moon hanging from it. She also wore a short, white sundress that made her look virginal and black combat boots that made her look less so. To make matters worse, she’d decided that skipping a bra today had been a smart choice. I didn’t get the look she was going for, but it worked for her, nonetheless. It was like she was fighting both sides of the same coin.
Braxton was older than I had guessed initially but still young. She’d only turned twenty-two a few months ago, which meant that as much as she pretended, she was still figuring out who she was.
She tried the song again, which was better, but she still sounded like she was making noise instead of a melody. If I were being fair, she played well enough that it took a trained ear to know the difference. On her third attempt, when she seemed to retreat inside her head again, I shot up from the couch with a growl so loud it roused Loren with a snort from his slumber next to me.
“What the fuck are you playing at?” I demanded as I charged her. She didn’t back down to her credit, but I couldn’t care less about her mettle. She was wasting my time.
“Excuse me?”
“Where is the girl from the festival? I didn’t invite this meek, mild bullshit you brought to my session. Either get out of your head or get out of my sight.”
Her thick lips parted in shock before closing only to open once more so she could run her mouth. “Do not talk to me that way.” Her fist balled in warning—one I didn’t heed. I was willing to risk a broken nose if it meant getting her to play from her marrow.
“Or what?” I pushed up on her, backing her into the wall and trapping her there with my hand next to her head.
Braxton tipped her chin, not willing to break my stare. “Or I’ll leave.”
“Only if I let you.” She was making me contradict my goddamn self.
“What do you want from me, Morrow?”
With my free hand, I fingered the frilly sleeve resting off her shoulder. I wanted to kiss the bare skin there, and had she been a groupie instead of my new guitarist, I would have. “I thought it was obvious.”
“Not to me.” She searched my gaze before narrowing her own. “It seems like you want me to quit.”
“Yesterday, you told me that I needed you. Now you accuse me of trying to get you to quit? I’m confused, Fawn.”
“So am I.”
I sighed before stepping back and giving her space. “What I want is irrelevant, but you were right. I need you. I need you to play like you want to be here. Do you?”