Halo (Fallen Angel, #1)(20)

At least, that was what I was telling myself.

Sitting up, I ran a hand over my face and then positioned my fingers over the keys. Sitting at the piano or with a guitar in my lap always felt like coming home, and even after the train wreck of the last few hours, I couldn’t stop the itch in my fingers from wanting to play. I didn’t have to think while I played; I just had to feel.

I poured my emotions out through music the way I always had, letting it soothe the ache and put me back together again. It was while I was mindlessly playing that I stumbled over a melody that had me pausing and going back to play it again.

My fingers moved over the keys, the rhythm flowing out my fingertips and onto the instrument in front of me as my foot tapped down on the pedal below. I hummed along then paused, repeating the riff.

Sometimes I played to release the frustration or disappointment of a rough day. Sometimes it was just me creating a bunch of nothing, notes I threw together that didn’t make any sense. Other times…it was magic.

As I played the riff over and over again, I realized this was one of those times.

It was clear as day the way the song would start, where the bass and guitar would come in…then the drums. I could hear Jagger on the synthesizer, rounding out what would be a slower, sort of alternative rock track. It wasn’t anything like what TBD played, but maybe that was exactly what I needed. To get their music out of my head and create something all mine. Something no one else would hear. Something no one else could reject. Something all mine.

I could deal with the slap of reality tomorrow.





Fourteen





Viper





BAM.

THE DOOR to Killian’s presidential suite slammed shut behind me as we all filed in after one another. Well, all of us except Halo, who’d bowed out and said he needed to go and chill, and with the way he’d been clutching that bottle of liquor I’d given him back in the dressing room, I had a feeling I knew exactly how he planned to accomplish that.

Tonight’s disastrous event hovered over us like a dark cloud as the four of us milled into the living area of the opulent suite and flopped down onto the couches. With mouths shut, eyes looking anywhere but at each other, we tried to come to grips with the fact that we’d just been handed our asses on stage for the first time ever, and the disbelief began to set in.

Was this the end of TBD? Could a lead singer or, more accurately, a change in the lead singer really make or break us when we were still at the top of the charts? I didn’t think that was actually possible, but after tonight it was becoming increasingly obvious that Trent had held more clout than I wanted to give him credit for.

Fuck.

“So…” Killian glanced over to the recliner I’d planted my ass in and arched an eyebrow. “You want to talk about what happened tonight?”

“No.” Hey, at least I was honest.

“V, come on. We can’t ignore it.”

“I don’t want to ignore it. I just don’t want to sit in a fucking circle right now and hold hands while we all cry about it. That okay with you?”

Killian took in a breath, trying for patience, but I could see the telltale sign it was wearing thin. It was the tic in his jaw. I’d pissed him off enough over the years to know when he was getting ready to blow, and right now Killian was about two comments away from telling me to get the hell out of his face.

But that was too damn bad. Nothing was going to rein in my temper tonight. I’d kept a lid on it for Halo’s sake as we made the trip back to the hotel, and I’d thought that maybe the alcohol would help. But even after downing half a bottle of whiskey and an entire pack of cigarettes, I felt the need to…punch something.

Killian ran a hand back through his hair. “Great attitude, Viper. You’re not making this any easier, you know.”

I didn’t say anything to that, because really, what was there to say? I felt like shit, and no matter what Killian said to me, that wasn’t about to change. Nope, I was quite happy wallowing in my misery, and if Killian wanted us all in a room to “discuss” things, then I guess they were gonna get dragged down into it with me.

“I don’t know, Kill.” Slade got to his feet and walked to the fully stocked bar in the corner of the room. “I’m kinda with Viper. I just want to get friendly with a bottle of booze and deal with this shit tomorrow.”

“This shit?” Killian shook his head. “This shit is our livelihood, Slade. You think it’s gonna look any better tomorrow when your head’s pounding because you swallowed half a minibar?”

“Better than pounding because ten thousand people booed us off the fuckin’ stage.”

Killian’s head whipped in my direction. “You. Shut the hell up.”

Jagger propped one of his ankles up on his knees, his eyes shifting between the three of us. “Maybe Kill has a point. I mean, yeah, tonight was shit. Like, total, utter shit. But we can’t just get plastered and pretend it never happened.”

“I can,” Slade said, then tossed back a tumbler of vodka.

Jagger smirked as Killian ran a hand over his weary face, and I reached for the half-empty bottle I’d shoved down the side of the couch.

“Look,” Killian said, “I don’t want to sit around and talk about our feelings and shit. I think it’s pretty obvious we all feel like hell. But just imagine how Halo has to be feeling right now. This is a first for us, after years of successful gigs, and no one likes being kicked in the balls. But this was his first experience ever. We need to pull our shit together so he doesn’t walk.”