Unwritten (Woodlands 5)

“I’m Threat Alert’s manager.”

It’s said with an air of importance, so I pretend to be impressed even though I have no idea what he does. “This seems really well put together. I thought everyone’d be playing at bars. This the biggest crowd they’ve had yet.”

“Georgia’s a great state for live music. Most places down here are. Plus, it helps that Rees is involved.”

That’s the same thing that Bob told me. “How so?” I ask. “FMK doesn’t play heavy metal.” I looked up Sid Rees’ band, and while their wiki page said that they were one of the greatest metal bands in the last couple of decades, I couldn’t make it through even one of their songs.

“A bunch of reasons. He’s got a lot of connections, so places like this open their doors. He’s a known name. People think they’ve heard of him before and so they come, thinking it’s a sound that’s familiar,” he explains. “Plus, of course, Threat Alert just signed to a label, so they’re big.”

I don’t tell him I’ve never heard of them before this tour. “That’s awesome. They must be loving this crowd tonight.”

He nods almost absently. His hands go up and the hair comes down. “So I hear you’re the new front man’s sister?”

I sip from my drink before nodding. “Yes. Davis is my brother.”

“He’s a good fit. Hopefully Rees won’t drive him off.”

“What do you mean?”

“Rees is a musical genius, but he’s difficult as fuck to get along with, don’t you think?”

“No, actually I don’t think so. He’s been nothing but good to”—I was going to say me, but I adjust—“to Davis and me.”

Mike shrugs carelessly. “It’s new. Wait a bit and he’ll do something to piss you off. He always does. It’s why this is his third band. He’s a stubborn prick that always wants things his way.” Mike slides a curious glance in my direction. “You don’t see it?”

I fold my arms across my chest and give him a chilly stare. “No.”

He meets my gaze for a moment before shifting his attention back to the stage. “Didn’t mean to piss you off. Look, Davis is a talent. When Adam’s done with him, send him my way.” He slides a card across the table.

I let it lie there.

Mike shakes his head. “Don’t be stubborn.”

“Give the card to my brother directly.” When Mike doesn’t reply, it dawns on me. He al

ready tried and that’s why he’s cozying up to me. I huff in irritation. “I make no decisions in the band. If you want to break up FMK, that’s on you. I’m here to enjoy the tour before I go back home.”

“Because of the stalker?” Mike asks with narrowed eyes.

I glare at him in dismay. “How do you know about that?”

He waves his hand. “Everyone does. I think I even bought drugs off that guy once. He lives over in Oak Park, right?”

“Right.”

“I always thought he was weird.” Mike taps his finger on the table before getting to his feet. “When the honeymoon is over, give me a holler. My door will always be open.”

I still make no move to take it, eyeing the white card like it might turn into a snake and bite me.

Chapter Twelve

Adam

My mood doesn’t improve. Not even after the righteous set.

The cheers grow as Davis holds the last note, and the longer he sings it, the louder the crowd gets. He holds the final syllable in the last lyric as Ian riffs heavily on the snare. Rudd and I lock eyes as we slash our strings, the pick digging into my thumb. I’ve played so hard tonight blood is trickling from the frets to my wrist.

Davis raises his fist, the sign to cut off all sound. Rudd and I slam our palms against our guitars. Ian catches his sticks.