Staged (Exodus End 3)

“What the fuck is this?”

Roux beamed. “Steve just asked me to marry him.”

Zach crinkled up half his face as if he’d tasted something extremely bitter. “And you said yes?”

She laughed and nodded. “Of course I said yes.”

“I told you that you had bad timing,” Steve said. “We haven’t even consummated the engagement yet.”

He slipped an arm around Roux’s back, resting his hand on her hip.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I should have stayed away—”

“No,” Roux said. She took Zach firmly by one arm and shoved him into a chair at the dining table. “You look like you haven’t eaten since I last saw you. There’s some fruit there to get you started,” she said. “I’ll order you a hot breakfast.”

Steve wasn’t sure why her fussing over his friend made him love her even more. While she was on the phone ordering enough food to make up for two weeks of starvation, Steve sank into the chair across from Zach.

“Are you okay? Why did he dump you?” Steve was careful not to use Enrique’s name.

Zach was helping himself to the half-eaten slice of ham on Steve’s plate. “Why do you automatically think he dumped me?”

“Because you’re obsessed with him.”

“While I was on my way to meet him in the prearranged secret location, I realized I want what you have with Roux, and I’m never going to get that with Enrique. So I stood him up, and then I was ultra-lame and broke up with him via text message.”

Which was probably a good thing, because if Zach had seen Enrique in person, he likely would have faltered.

“What about you,” Zach said, “are you okay? That date-rape stuff with Tam—”

Steve lifted a hand. “Don’t say its name.”

“Sorry I wasn’t here for you when you needed me.” He glanced over at Roux, who was grinning ear to ear and texting a flurry of messages—most likely to her sisters about her new ring. “I left you in good hands, though. Congratulations, by the way. So will you rent your house to me now?”

Steve chuckled. “If she doesn’t want to live there, but don’t make her feel sorry for you so she’ll let you have it. I love that place and hope she does too.”

“Hey, Roux?” Zach called to her. “You don’t want to live in California, do you?”

“Yeah, I do. Especially in the winter,” she said.

“Steve’s house is really small,” Zach added.

“I like cozy. Keeps us close.”

“Knock it off,” Steve warned Zach. He would love to build their lives together in his little shack by the sea.

“I also love wide-open spaces,” she said, and Steve cringed, thinking she’d want a big ol’ mansion in Malibu like Bianca had. “I hope we can stay on the family farm in the fall at harvest time. We’ll need a relaxing, quiet place to stay after all the summer tours.”

He loved that she wanted to spend months on the farm and winters in California, but what about seeing her family?

Oh.

“And there’s no place like New York in the spring,” Steve said, catching on to where she was going with this. They could make their lives together in all the places that were important to them, and once they decided to start a family, they could settle somewhere more permanent. He didn’t care where, as long as they were together.

“I couldn’t agree more,” she said, smiling at him with utter devotion.

A loud knock sounded, and Roux turned toward the door. “Fastest room service ever,” she said, hurrying to answer.

“You will not post another picture on the Internet for the rest of the tour,” Sam said. He jabbed a finger into Roux’s chest, and Steve was on his feet in an instant.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve said, rushing forward and shifting Roux behind him. He blocked Sam’s entry into the room by taking up as much space in the doorframe as possible “You touch her again, and I’ll break your fingers.”

Sam didn’t touch her again, but he did continue to yell.

“If I see one more cutesy picture of you with this character”—he pointed at Steve—“posted anywhere, I’m sending Baroquen back to New York and canceling your appearances.”

“You can’t do that!” Roux squeezed into the doorframe next to Steve, but he threw out an arm to stop her from entering the hall. There were sharks in those waters.

“I can do whatever I want.” Sam crossed his arms and his chin jutted forward. “I own your band. Without me, you’re nothing.”

“You’re so wrong,” Steve said, surprised he wasn’t angrier. The man he loathed above all others was threatening the woman he loved, and some strange sense of calm had washed over him. “Without us, you’re nothing.”

“What? I made you.” He jabbed a pointed finger in Steve’s direction but wisely did not touch him. “And her. And even him.” He nodded toward Roux and Zach.

“No, you promoted me, and her, and not so much him, but you didn’t make anything. We’re the ones who make the music. You just help us find people who like what we make. And I can’t speak for Baroquen or Twisted Element, but I can speak for Exodus End. We don’t need you anymore. You’re fired.”

Oh yeah, the guys were going to kill him later for that one, but he didn’t give a fuck at that moment, and the astonished look on Sam Baily’s face was worth any browbeating Max would throw Steve’s way later.

“You can’t fire me.”

“I just did.”

“Well, I’ll . . . I’ll cancel all the promotional events I’ve arranged.” Sam’s face had turned a delightful shade of red.

“Which would be welcome,” Steve said. “You have us running ragged all the time. Besides . . .” Steve shrugged. “If we want to reschedule any of those events, I’m sure a simple phone call to the organizer will fix everything to our satisfaction.”

Sam puffed out his chest. “A, I control the money. B, I control the band. Therefore, C, I control you.”

Steve laughed. “We’re working on A. Remember that audit Max ordered? Well, don’t imagine that we’ve been silent about it because we were happy with what our very thorough accountant found.”

Sam’s face went from red to white.

“As for B, you might think you control the band, but if it weren’t for Max’s insistence that you were worth the headache, you’d have been out on your ass years ago. He’ll be pissed that he didn’t get to tell you himself, but he no longer thinks you’re worth the headache. He wants you gone as much as I do. The only thing keeping you here is that it’s taking Dare’s lawyers a bit longer than planned to file all the lawsuits and criminal charges against you.”

Sam took a step backward. “What?”

“And with your tabloid publishing pictures of my sexual assault, well . . .” Steve shrugged. “I guess we have a civil case as well, don’t we? It was very traumatizing for me—the victim—to see those pictures in print.”

Sam’s mouth opened and shut several times, but for once in his hot-winded existence, he couldn’t seem to find a single word to utter.

“As for C,” Steve said, “you never controlled me. Max kept me under control as best he could, but if I didn’t love and respect the hell out of him and our music, I’d have hit the road years ago. This band isn’t about you. Baroquen isn’t about you either. So go fuck yourself, Sam. We’ll survive without you.”

“God, why won’t you quit?” Sam threw both hands in the air. “I’ve tried everything I can to make you leave, and you just keep coming back for more.”

So Steve hadn’t been imagining things—Sam did have it out for him. “Why would I leave? I belong with the band. You’re the one who’s leaving.”

“You’ve just ruined your girlfriend’s career,” Sam said. “I’ll make sure she and her sisters never get a leg up in this business—”

“Are you threatening us?” Iona said from behind him.

Sam spun around. “Iona!” he said, his sharkiest smile splitting his face. “What are you doing here?

”

“I came to congratulate my little sister on her engagement.”

“We all did,” Raven said from the group of congregated women.

Actually, the crowd spreading down the hall in either direction was more mixed than Steve had first noticed.

When had his bandmates arrived? How much had they overheard? How pissed were they that Steve had taken it upon himself to confront Sam openly and without a lawyer present? He cautiously met Max’s eyes, and Max did look angry, but he was sending his most ball-withering glare in Sam’s direction, not Steve’s. Dare looked resigned that yes, this had happened and now they’d have to work with what they had. Logan grinned and made a victory fist, which Reagan tapped playfully with her own.