Kiss the Stars (Falling Stars 1)

I had a plan. It’d do me well to stick to it.

Veering to the left wasn’t going to help things.

“You never know, Rhys,” I drew out, playing like none of this mattered. Like I wasn’t close to coming apart. “I just might get cozy here and decide playing with Sunder is really where I belong. Can’t imagine it would be all that hard to get used to.”

The car made a right into a neighborhood that screamed old-world luxury. We rolled to a stop in front of what had to be the most over-the-top, palatial house I’d ever seen.

Lyrik’s house in the Hills had nothing on this.

Yeah.

Getting used to hanging out around here shouldn’t be all that hard to do.

I must have been gawking for too long because Rhys suddenly demanded below his breath, “Dude . . . it’s that good, isn’t it? Shit. I knew it. We’re screwed.”

“Nah, man, it’s a hovel.”

“Liar,” he shouted in feigned affront.

The estate was secured between two tree-lined streets, taking up the entire end of an upscale neighborhood block. A black wrought-iron and red-bricked fence encased the entire property. Marble stairs led up to the walkway from off the street, that was if you had an invitation to make it through the security gate.

A sign wasn’t necessary for it to read keep the fuck out.

Place was fronted by five huge steps that led up to the soaring columns of the portico, double doors waiting with a quaint welcome that belied the grandeur of the rest of the house.

It gave way to three stories of shuttered windows, columned porches stretching around the north side to the backyard that was enclosed by a high wall, inhibiting passersby from sneaking a peek.

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m totally lying. Place is out of control. This is the way the other half lives, man.”

“Stop rubbing it in, Banger,” Rhys grumbled through the line. “I know you, and I know your ass still has heavy metal pumping through your veins. Last thing we need is for you to try to ditch us once you get another taste of it. Things are finally happening with Carolina George. Happening fast, too. Just like I told you they would. Knew people couldn’t ignore our badassery forever. Don’t you dare walk in that house and decide that is where you’re supposed to be.”

“So you’re saying you need me now?”

He huffed through his amusement. “Barely.”

“Come on, man, tell me you love me. Tell me the band is nothing without me.”

“Fuck off,” he said through a laugh.

“Have it your way,” I told him, keeping the razzing alive as I clicked open the door. There was nothing more entertaining than fucking with Rhys.

“Fine. Fuckin’ fine,” he rushed. “Before you go inside that house, you gotta know the band would be an absolute shit-show without you. Not that we aren’t all bad asses. But we are bad asses together. Bad asses united. Bad asses to eternity. Do ya hear me?”

The last he sang in his country drawl like he was trying to rally a squad of downtrodden troops, like he had a hand fisted in the air for solidarity.

Yeah.

Eternity wasn’t in the cards for me.

But maybe if I played it right, I could help get them where they needed to go. Set them up before I folded.

“Unfortunately, I do hear you,” I said, keeping my tone as light as I could.

“Bastard.” Could feel his smile.

Figured I’d better put him out of his misery. “Don’t worry, brother. I’m in and out. No one will even know I’m here.”

“Oh, I bet Lyrik West’s wife will notice you’re there. Have you seen pictures of her? Fuck,” he groaned. “I bet you met her this last weekend, didn’t you? She is h.o.t. With a capital H. Hell, with a capital everything.”

“Pretty sure if Lyrik West heard you say that, he would cut off both your nuts. No more betting for you.”

“Like you’re going to out me. Your best friend? Come on, Banger.”

“Hey man, Lyrik and I go way back. You never know. And that’s Head Banger to you.”

“See . . . heavy metal. This is a goddamn nightmare,” he whimpered in nothing but faked outrage.

I was chuckling low when I said, “I’ve got to go.”

Driver was staring me down through the rearview mirror, biting his tongue, the poor bastard.

Rhys hesitated, then cleared his throat. “Seriously, Leif. This is cool. Proud of you. No one better to fill Zee Kennedy’s shoes than the likes of you. I hope you know I truly believe that.”

“Thanks, Rhys.”

“Be good.”

“Always.”

I didn’t bother to call my own bullshit.

I slipped out of the car and onto the sidewalk that was shaded by the towering oaks. The driver was already there, grabbing my single suitcase from the trunk, glad to kick me to the curb.

“Thanks.” I shook his hand and slipped him a hundred.