Halo (Fallen Angel, #1)(18)

The rest of the guys filed in after me, and I could hear Jagger and Killian murmuring to one another, but didn’t pay much attention. I was too busy thinking of all the ways I could express just how much I hated the man who’d left, the boy I’d grown up with, the guy I’d stupidly thought would never screw us over as hard as he had.

“Viper? You couldn’t have waited back there for us?” Slade said as he shut the door behind them, and it wasn’t lost on me how quiet Halo was right then, how withdrawn he looked as he moved to the corner of the room and took up a spot away from the rest of us.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was supposed to fucking wait so we could do the walk of shame together.”

“V…” Killian said, but the glare I sent his way stopped him.

There would be no calming me tonight. Hell, as far as I was concerned, the guys should be thanking me for not throwing my microphone stand at the ungrateful crowd. I raised the bottle to my lips, took another swig, and then eyed Halo, who still hadn’t said a word.

“That was a disaster.” Jagger moved to one of the couches in the room and slumped down into it, his usually put together self looking somewhat defeated as his eyes shifted around the room.

“No shit,” Slade agreed, as he ran a hand over his head and gripped the back of his neck. “I’ve never heard anything like that.”

“What, boos so loud they practically made the stage vibrate?” I said as a full-on scowl twisted my lips. “Or maybe you’re talking about the way they were all calling out that fucking prick Trent’s name so loudly that he probably heard it in whatever hole he crawled into.”

“Viper,” Killian shouted, and I pinned him with a stare that should’ve cut him at the knees.

“What?”

“You need to calm down.”

“No. I need to get drunk.” I upended the bottle and took another long, hard pull of the whiskey. “This is all his fuckin’ fault, and you know it.”

Killian balled his fists at his sides as he ground his teeth together, and when he didn’t respond, I turned my attention to the one who hadn’t made a peep since we’d left the stage. The one who looked as though he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. And that was another reason I hoped Trent could feel our wrath wherever he was tonight—the total dejection written all over Halo’s face.

God only knew what he was thinking right now. He’d already been a ball of nerves before hitting the stage, but after that epic failure he was probably wishing he’d never heard of TBD. Who was I kidding? Right now, I was wishing the same damn thing.

Taking pity on him, I crossed to where Halo stood and thrust the bottle out to him. When his eyes caught on my hand, and then flew up to mine, the confusion, disappointment, and apology in them made me temper my own foul mood for one second as I said, “Now, do you wanna get drunk with me?”

Halo grimaced but reached for the bottle, and just as he was about to bring it to his lips, the door opened up and Brian, our manager, stepped inside. Great, just what we needed.

“Guys…” Brian started, his eyes roaming around the room from Jagger and Slade, then to Killian, and finally, they settled on Halo and me. When he saw the bottle of alcohol in Halo’s hand, he slowly shook his head. “That was, um, not your finest hour out there tonight.”

Was he fucking serious right now? Talk about stating the obvious. “You ran all the way back here in your shiny Oxfords to tell us that, Brian? Newsflash: we already know. We were up there, remember?”

“V…” Killian said in a warning tone, knowing how close to the surface my nerves and anger were.

“Look,” Brian said as he walked farther into the room. Brave of him, all things considered. “I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news—”

I snorted. “Then how about you turn around and get the hell out? We don’t need you to tell us how the crowd felt out there tonight. I think we got it.”

“That’s not what I’m here to tell you. Jesus, Viper, how about you shut your mouth for five seconds so I can talk.”

“How about you go fuck yourself—”

“Viper,” Slade said, pointing his sticks my way. “Dude, we’re all fucking bummed right now, but you gotta rein it in. Cool it.”

Halo shuffled on his feet, and when I looked in his direction, his eyes pleaded with me to simmer down, to not make it worse than it already was, and something about that look—that silent appeal—banked my fury in a way I didn’t think was possible.

“Thank you, Slade.” Brian’s eyes moved to Killian, and he held up his cell. “I just got off the phone with MGA. They had someone here tonight in the crowd, and the reports they got back, not to mention the beating you guys are taking online, has not made for a happy record label.”

I scoffed, but before I could say anything, Halo shoved the bottle of alcohol against my arm and shook his head—so I zipped it.

“They’re not happy, guys. Actually, they’re…” As Brian trailed off, Jagger sat forward on the edge of the couch.

“They’re what, Brian? Spit it out.”

Brian took in a deep breath, and then let it out. “They want your asses home, pronto. They’re cancelling all upcoming gigs, and the final word I got from them was they don’t care what you do, or how you do it, but you need to fix shit quick.”