His gaze darts to the side for a second. “I’m not supposed to say anything to the guys,” he says in a low voice. “But Cutter asked if I’d be interested in contributing more riffs to other artists. Like I did for Mitchell Howard. Maybe doing some songwriting with other people too.”
“Wow.” I pull back, considering what that means for Chaser. “That’s huge.”
“It is,” he agrees. “I hate not talking to Alvin about it.”
Damn, it sucks that Cutter put Chaser in such an awkward position. “I understand. But what if nothing comes of it? You’ll make things uncomfortable for no reason.”
“True.” He cocks his head. “Good point. Seventy-five percent of this business is talk that never comes through.”
I hate even bringing this up but can’t seem to help myself. “Does that mean you’ll have to—”
“Nope. First thing I asked. He says he’ll set it up somewhere in L.A.” He leans down and presses a brief kiss to my cheek. “I don’t want to be away from you any more than I have to.”
“I don’t mean to be selfish…”
He brushes his knuckles under my chin and tips my head back. “You know how happy it makes me that you want me around as much as I want to be around you?”
After a few seconds, he backs up and glances out the sliding glass door. Alvin’s busy clearing off the wrought-iron patio furniture we’ve only used a handful of times since we moved into the house. Chaser returns his gaze to me. “Cutter also let it slip that the reason he was so adamant about all of us staying in Vancouver through the mixing was that the label was considering dropping us if the album wasn’t finished in a timely fashion.”
“Oh my God. Really?”
“Yeah, the shooting, the amount of time it took us to finish the EP, rumors of Jacob’s drug habits, my arrest…none of it made them happy.”
“What about…They don’t know about your…?”
“No. Thank fuck I kicked my problem before it got back to the suits. If they caught wind that both of us were addicts, they might’ve gone ahead and cut us loose.” He squeezes me tighter, resting his hands on my butt. “I have you to thank for that.”
“Me? I didn’t do anything special, Chaser.”
“Yes, you did. You stuck with me. Believed in me. Didn’t take any shit from me. I’ve never properly thanked you for all of it.”
“Yes, you did.” I poke his chest and smile up at him. “In front of the whole world when you accepted your Guitar God award.”
“Right.” He releases me and lifts his chin toward the counter. “What’re we doing here?”
“Pasta salad.” I point to the bowls set up along the counter. “Just chopping those up.”
He boosts me onto the counter. “I’ve done enough yapping. I want to hear more about the pilot. I’ll do the chopping while you give me all the details you didn’t over the phone.”
“Hmm.” I swipe a carrot off the cutting board and munch on it while I think over the few days of filming. “Everyone’s so nice. They’ve all worked together on different shows or movies over the years. I guess Mr. Southgate tends to hire and re-hire the same people if he likes them. He’s very loyal.”
“Unusual in Hollywood.”
“Right? No one made me feel like an outsider or anything. Madeline’s really sweet. Super bubbly and talkative but so…nice. I never realized I had this negative impression of her because of all the crap written in the scandal papers. But she’s nothing like they say.”
Chaser grunts. “We’ve learned the hard way that most of what they print is outright lies.”
“True.” I grab another carrot. “The outfits are hilariously ridiculous. Like, huge shoulder pads and wild prints—stuff I don’t think anyone, let alone teenagers, would wear in real life. But the wardrobe people are so much nicer. And no crotch rub from skimpy bathing suits.”
A teasing smile flickers over his lips. “The only crotch-rubbing you should be getting is from me.”
I snort. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m looking forward to not having to wax my entire undercarriage every couple of weeks.”
He sets the knife down, squeezes his eyes shut, and shakes with laughter. “Jesus, Mallory.” He steps between my knees and rests his hands on my hips. “Shave it, wax it, shape it into a bonsai tree, let it grow into a little jungle if it makes you happy. Nothing’s going to keep me away from your undercarriage.”
“Christ, is that what passes for sweet talk these days?” Alvin says from behind us. “No wonder I’m still single.”
Thoroughly embarrassed, I drop my gaze to my sandals and shake my head.
“That’s what you get for being a creeper.” Chaser picks up a celery stalk and flings it in Alvin’s direction.
Alvin catches it and takes a big, crunchy bite. “Steaks are done,” he mumbles around the mouthful. “Come on, Tarzan, grab Jane and let’s eat.”
Chaser pelts Alvin with the remaining carrots.
“Stop wasting my vegetables,” I scold, but I’m laughing so hard, neither of them seem to understand me. They keep flinging little orange and green missiles at each other instead.
When we’re finally situated at the table, Alvin leans over and pulls a slice of celery out of my hair. “Sorry about that, Mallory.”
“I’m just happy to see you guys laughing. You both looked so serious when you got off the plane.”
Alvin nervously glances across the table at Chaser. “I’m not supposed to say anything but, I hate keeping shit from you, bro.”
Chaser sets his fork down. “What are you talking about?”
“Before we left, Cutter asked if I’d mind doing a ‘guest appearance’ in a Penny Driver video.”
I glance down at my plate and bite my lip.
Chaser blows out a breath. “Thank fuck you said that. He asked me if I’m open to another featured solo. He didn’t give me a name though.”
Alvin cracks up. “What an asshole. I’ve been flipping out with no one to talk to about it.” He hesitates. “You think it’s a dumb idea? Think associating with Penny Driver will kill our ‘street cred’?”
Instead of answering with a quick, no, Chaser pauses, and seems to seriously consider the question. “Some people might bitch and call it selling out, but they’re not our true fans anyway, you know? She’s got a huge audience. It could be good exposure for the band.”
“That’s what I thought too.” He stabs his fork into a big chunk of steak and stuffs it in his mouth. “Garrett’s had a crush on her forever. He’s going to be jealous.”
Chaser snorts. “Who knows what secret project Cutter has lined up for Garrett. Sounds as if he had something up his sleeve for each of us.”
“Probably a guest-starring role on a porno for Jacob,” Alvin mutters.
Chaser raises his glass. “Talk about exposing us to a new audience.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chaser
Since we were such good boys and finished the album on time, the label throws a party for its release. Based on the guest list, they’re not planning to drop us any time soon. Everyone important in the industry came to celebrate the release of the album we ended up naming In Your Hands. Not that I notice any of them. The short, skintight gold dress Mallory picked out for the event has my full and undivided attention
I curl my arm around her waist and tug her closer, bending down to whisper in her ear, “We’re dropping everyone else off first on the way home.”
She tips her head back. Wide blue eyes staring up at me. Pink spreading over her cheeks. “Why?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about peeling this dress up, and making you ride my cock in the back of the limo.” Fuck. I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood, willing my erection to settle down. Mallory doesn’t help the situation when she leans in close enough to graze my dick with her body.
“Oh my,” she breathes out, a teasing smile playing over her glossy pink lips. “It feels like you might need immediate attention.”
r /> I squeeze her hip, wordlessly begging her to stop. “Don’t make me come in my pants in front of all these people.”
She chuckles softly and slides her arm around my waist, leaning in and staring up at me. “Chaser, we both know you have more self-control than that.”
“Not tonight, I don’t.” I flick my gaze up and around the room, landing on someone who definitely ruins the fun moment I’m having with my girl.
Fucking Andrew.
I glare at him across the room and he sends me a half-hearted wave.
“What’s wrong?” She frowns and tries to turn but I block her, shifting us to the side. “Chaser, what—”
Jacob stumbles over to us, double-fisting two glasses of champagne with Garrett by his side keeping him upright.
“What the fuck happened with you and Andrew?” Jacob slurs, jerking his head in Andrew’s direction.
Mallory stares down into her own champagne glass.
I shrug. “Nothing. We’re cool.”
“He looks scared to death of ya,” Garrett says.