Idol (VIP 1)

He gives me a quick tap on the shoulder. “Tell me you found some hot girl to keep you occupied.”

I’ve never hidden anything from them. But for some reason, I don’t want to tell them about Libby just now. Not when I know they’ll ask questions.

“According to Brenna,” Rye says, “he had a cute little neighbor.”

My back stiffens. “You gossiping with Brenna again?”

Rye’s cheeks flush a little. It’s well known to all of us that he has a thing for my oblivious cousin. And, yeah, I’m using it to my advantage just now.

But he quickly snorts. “I’m taking that evasion as a yes.”

We join Jax at the table. “What’s he evading?” Jax asks.

“Talking about the friend he made at summer camp,” Whip says.

A waitress comes in and sets down the round of beers Jax ordered. Rye gives her a look, and she smiles wide. “I shouldn’t ask…but are you JJ Watt?”

We all choke on our beers, trying to hide our laughter. Except Rye, who flushes again. His smile is easy. “Don’t tell anyone I’m hanging out with One Direction here, ’kay? Might mess with my image.”

“Okay.” She frowns slightly as I give Rye the finger, and Whip kicks his shin under the table, making the bottles rattle.

“Jesus,” Rye says when she leaves. “One year out of the press and I’m usurped by a linebacker.”

“You do kind of look like him,” Whip says, squinting at Rye. “Only shorter. Could get you a lot of sloppy-seconds action, though.”

“My action has and always will be prime and all mine, fuck you very much.” Rye sets his attention back on me. “So what about your summer crush?”

“Talk about evasion.” I take a long drink of my beer before giving him a bland look. “Yes, there was a neighbor. No, she wasn’t a summer crush.” Libby is much more than that. “We hung out. She’s cool. Her dad was a studio guitarist. George Bell.”

“No shit?” Rye leans in, interested.

“You know him?” Whips asks.

“I didn’t know him personally,” Rye says. “But I’ve heard of him, sure.”

It isn’t a surprise that Rye knows about Libby’s dad. Whenever we went on tour, Rye would have his nose in some music history book. There isn’t an instrument he can’t play or a musical tidbit he can’t name. And we’ve tried to stump him. Many times. We always fail.

“You guys haven’t?” he asks when we all kind of look blank.

“Not even a little,” Jax says.

“He was a beast guitarist. Could have been a star on his own. But I guess he didn’t want that. Sat in sessions for a lot of huge bands in the late eighties and nineties.”

“That’s what Libby said. He taught her to play.” I glance around at their smirks. “Jesus, would you stop thinking with your dicks. She actually helped me come up with songs.”

“Do tell,” Jax drawls.

I don’t appreciate the look in his eyes, as if Libby is already cheap entertainment. I might have gotten around to telling them about my relationship with her, but not now. Instead I lean back in the booth seat and shrug. “She sings and plays guitar. And frankly, she’s fucking phenomenal.” I pause, considering, but fuck it, these are my best friends. I can’t hide everything. “I asked her to come play with us.”

“What the fuck?” Jax looks at me as if I’ve sprouted a dick on my forehead.

“Don’t worry, she said no.” It still smarts. Because I know she was born to be out there. The same way I was.

“How about asking us first?” Jax says with another look of disgust. “Kill John doesn’t need another member.”

“It was to perform three songs with us as a guest. Shit, Jack White does it all the time, and it’s brilliant.”

“You’re no Jack White.”

“I’d say I’m better, but from where I’m sitting right now, I admire Jack’s willingness to branch out and test his limits. We don’t.”

Rye laughs darkly. “He’s right, man. We need new material.”

Jax is still pouting like I peed in his Wheaties.

I shake my head. “If you want to know the truth, I had no interest in coming back until I heard her. She was inspiring.”

They all look at me for a long moment, then slowly Whip nods. “Happened to me in Iceland. Was wandering around, not really into anything. Then I went to this club. There was this deejay, a mix master. His sounds were wicked hot, like nothing I’ve heard before. I hung out there all week and started working on some beats with him.”

Jax frowns but doesn’t say anything.

“Whip called me up,” Rye puts in. “I flew out to meet him, and we started composing.”

“Let me get this straight,” Jax says slowly, his frown growing. “None of you wanted anything to do with music this past year?”

Heaviness settles over the table. I lean in, resting my forearms on the cold glass. “We might as well clear the air now. Yeah, Jax, we were fucked up.” I gesture toward Whip and Rye with my chin. “What you did threw us all off. I’m not saying it to make you feel guilty—”