Rock Revenge (Rock Revenge Trilogy 1)

Cocky mask firmly in place.

“Well, look who it is.” Byron Christensen, my main competition on the show and the biggest diva on the planet, flashed me a Cheshire grin. “Feeling hale and hearty tonight, mate?” he asked as he passed, clapping me on the back as he went.

I nearly snarled, though my smile never wavered. “For certain. And you? Big night this evening.”

“Just a night.” Byron’s grin spread as he went to the urinal and opened his pants. He spoke as he pissed. “But I’m eager to get on with the rest, I must say.”

I just bet. The road to certain obscurity must be awfully enticing.

“Me too. Good luck out there.” I turned for the door.

“Say, glad I found you. Mitchell was looking for you. He’s in the room down the hall.”

“Couldn’t have led with that, could you, mate?” My mask slipped and crunched under my heavy black boots as I reached for the door handle.

Fuck it. I was tired of kissing ass, and after tonight, I wouldn’t have to.

Especially since Mitchell Scott wanted to speak to me. The guy was one of the biggest music dudes in the UK—if not the world. His agency was huge. He’d already been buzzing around me after one of the earlier performances, offering up his business card and all that. If Mitchell wanted to talk to me in private, I’d obviously already impressed the guy.

All I had to do tonight was win and collect the recording contract that would launch my career.

Finally.

Except that isn’t the point. You’re needed in LA. A UK contract won’t get you to America, now will it?

I clenched the door handle. For a moment, I’d forgotten. This wasn’t about me. Getting a recording contract on my own merits would impress exactly no one, unless it came with a large signing bonus. And even then it would never be enough to repay my debts.

Hadn’t I been told that enough times for it to sink in?

Evidently not.

Still, I’d gotten this far all on my own. Sure, I had the Kagan name, but I’d never made a thing out of it until last night. Simon’s band was performing in London, and I hadn’t been able to stop myself from tipping my hat. But I’d risen through the talent show ranks all on my own.

Hell, half the time people didn’t even know my last name. But they heard my voice loud and clear.

“Sorry, got distracted by the state of your face.” Byron washed up in the sink. “Not the best timing for schoolyard scuffles, now is it?”

My fingers clenched around the door handle as I pulled the door wide. Suddenly, I couldn’t stand the stench in the tiny room a moment longer. “Good luck to you,” I said through gritted teeth.

Wanker.

“Wait a moment, I’ll walk with you.”

“No, that’s quite all right. I’ve been capable of walking myself since I was in nappies.”

“But Mitchell wants to see me as well.” Byron dried off his hands and moved forward, his smile blinding. The bloke must’ve used varnish on his teeth. “I think he gathered a few of the others too.”

He clapped me on the back again, this time low enough that he managed to graze one of the bruises given to me by my dear older brother. He couldn’t have known where it was, but I certainly didn’t miss Byron’s low chuckle at my hiss of pain.

God, I couldn’t wait until the fucker lost.

“Oh, sorry. Did I hit a sore spot?” Byron clucked. “Such a shame you have to perform such a tough song tonight after a physical altercation.”

“I’ll be fine.” I rotated my jaw. Assuming I didn’t get in another “physical altercation” before the evening was through. “So who else is in there?”

Mitchell named two other contestants, who had both been sent home in recent weeks. I frowned. “Why would he want to see them?”

Not that they weren’t talented guys, but usually only the top three drew offers from the big talent agencies and recording companies.