Unwritten (Woodlands 5)

“Not planning to.” I give them both a kiss on the cheek. Another time, I would’ve kissed them on the mouth, mostly to rile up their boyfriends. But now I feel that part of me belongs to Landry.

Landry also gets hugs from everyone before my roommates hop into their vehicle and speed off to their hotel. I watch the SUV with a little wistful longing.

Landry punches me lightly in the arm. “Come on,” she says, “We have tomorrow.”

I perk up immediately. So does my dick. “Tonight, you mean.”

She glances at her phone. “So it is.”

“Dude, my fucking God, did you walk from the joint or what?” An excited Rudd tumbles down the stairs. “Get in here.” He motions with his arm.

Landry arches her eyebrows but says nothing as she follows Rudd inside. Davis is seated across from Hollister. Leaning against the counter is Ian, his tattooed arms crossed in front of his chest and an impassive expression plastered on his face.

Davis is vibrating with excitement. He explodes out of his seat when he spies Landry and me. “Fuck, why the hell did you two take so long?”

Because your sister and I were busy trying to rip each other’s clothes off.

I rub a hand across my forehead. Landry averts her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter.” He waves a hand. “Come on, Hollister. Tell Rees the news.”

Hollister gets to his feet. A genuine smile curves his lips upward. I’ve seen that shark smile before. It’s the one Hollister’s wallet generates when it senses an influx of cash.

“Yeah, tell me,” I say, although I’m fairly sure I’m not going to like whatever it is he’s going to try selling me. Ian’s lack of emotion is not encouraging.

“A guy from InMotion was at the bar tonight with his girlfriend and he really liked your music. Said your sound was ‘fresh and clean.’”

“Sounds like he’s describing a mouthwash.” I lean my hip against the edge of the banquette. At my back I can feel the warmth of Landry’s body as she stands just over my right shoulder. She chuckles, but no one else does. In fact, I catch Ian wincing slightly.

“It’s not a mouthwash,” Rudd says. He’s tired of waiting. He pushes by me, throws an arm around Hollister and says, “Our man Hollister is going to hook us up with a tech company. Some fruity company wants to use ‘Classic’ for their next commercial. Is that amazing or what? We’re the new Fitz and The Tantrums!”

He raises his arms and forms devil’s horns with his fingers.

“A commercial?”

“I told you he wouldn’t go for it.” Ian turns and heads for the back as if he doesn’t want to hear any explanation or excuses.

“Come on, Rees.” Rudd drops h

is arms. “Seriously? This is a big-time opportunity. Fitz didn’t get big without all its pop culture creds.”

“It’s true,” Hollister adds. “Commercials are one of the primary methods of discovery for new bands. These tech companies love using little known musicians and pushing them into the mainstream. It makes them look cool and hip. My guy says they’ll pay well. You’ll have national exposure, which means your band can headline instead of being backup.”

“No.” I push by a disappointed Rudd and a confused Davis to find an angry Ian in the back, shoving empty beer cans and red Solo cups into a trash bag. Behind me, I hear some cursing and Davis saying, “What just happened?”

“You said no, didn’t you,” Ian says.

I crouch on the floor to grab some trash. “Yeah, you mad?”

“Frustrated,” he says tersely. “You fucking love that company. Every piece of tech you own has that damn brand on it, but you’re turning it down because of some musical ideal that no one even cares about anymore.”

“We’re three weeks into this tour and we’re already growing our audience.” I stuff some gross wet napkins and a couple bottles into the bag. “Let’s see where we are at the end of the tour. Growing our audience organically makes the most sense. We’ve both been around long enough to know that one hit makes zero difference.” Fuck, everyone is so shortsighted. Threat Alert has no staying power and Ian knows it. “In a year, no one’s going to remember TA beyond their single song. Even now, the audience doesn’t care about their music. They only want to hear the hit on repeat.”

Ian grits his teeth. “That’s because their music sucks on the whole. We don’t suck, Adam. With Davis, this is the real deal. You know it and so do I, but if we don’t take every advantage offered to us, our chance will dissolve. In two months, this offer isn’t going to be on the table anymore. Hell, it might not be on the table in two days. You can do stuff with this offer that other bands can’t.”

“He’s right,” Rudd says from the doorway. “The other guys on tour would kill for this opportunity.”

Over my bandmates’ heads, I spy Landry. Her face is filled with confusion. To a girl who didn’t hesitate to sell her work, my attitude makes no sense. When I start talking, it’s more for her sake than anyone else.