Halo (Fallen Angel, #1)(55)

One thing I knew for certain, though: this thing between us was far from over.





Thirty-Seven





Halo





“EVERYONE HERE? WHERE’S Viper?” Brian stuck his head out of the rehearsal room. “Viper! If you could grace us with your presence, that’d be great.”

When Brian turned back to face the rest of us, he shook his head and checked his watch.

“You in some kind of hurry, man?” Killian asked, where he lounged on the couch beside me with his legs casually crossed at the ankles. We’d all been called together by Brian the day after the “Invitation” video had gone wild, presumably to figure out what the hell happened next.

“Time is money,” Brian said, turning on his heel, and as he opened his mouth to yell again for Viper, the man in question shoved past him into the room, nearly knocking Brian off-balance. When our manager didn’t say a thing as he steadied himself, Viper smirked and flopped into a chair opposite Killian and me.

Jesus. After last night, I could barely look Viper’s way without heat creeping up my neck, because damn, him between my legs had been the hottest thing I’d ever experienced. As if he knew what I was thinking, Viper grabbed the end of the toothpick in his mouth and slowly slid it in and out several times until I made myself look away or risk giving myself away.

“So,” Brian said, straightening his tie and then sliding his hands into his pockets. “I think we can all agree that the video I sent the Warden has paid off quite well. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Recording without consent is a dick move,” Viper said. “You pull that shit again or post anything online without our approval and there won’t be a fuckin’ next time.”

“V.” Killian shot him a shut the fuck up look. “Let’s hear what he has to say. I’m sure Brian had a good reason for being a sneaky motherfucker and posting a private session.”

Brian paled. “What? You guys should be thanking me. Over five million people saw that video—”

“Over seven now, actually,” Viper said. “Which means you owe Halo about seven million apologies, considering it was his face you focused on.”

I sank down a couple of inches, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself, since it seemed like I was always in the center of the damn maelstrom.

“You’re not serious,” Brian said, his hands balling at his hips. “I did you assholes a favor. Your career was going up in flames, but now everyone wants to know who Halo is. He’s gonna save you.”

Save them? This coming from the guy who told the band to fire me?

Slade pointed a drumstick Brian’s way. “Not fuckin’ cool.”

“Yeah, you should apologize,” Jagger agreed.

For the first time since he’d entered the room, Brian looked at me. With nowhere to hide, I straightened and waited to see if he’d bow to their demands. Personally, I didn’t need any kind of apology. The song going viral was the coolest thing that’d happened in my lifetime other than joining TBD, but I could understand the invasion of privacy being an issue for the others. They’d had to deal with this kind of thing far longer than me, so when Brian puffed himself up and threw a quick “sorry” in my direction, I nodded, ready to move on.

“Good,” Killian said. “Now what is it you wanted us here for?”

Clearly thrown off his game, Brian ran a self-conscious hand over his tie and tried to regain his upper hand. “Due to the response the video has generated, MGA wants you in the studio to record ‘Invitation’ tomorrow. They want to get it out to radio, stat, while it’s hot.”

Holy shit…my song—our song—was gonna be on the radio already? My eyes found Viper’s, and I couldn’t stop the grin on my face as he nodded in approval.

“That’s not all,” Brian went on. “I also showed them the second song, and they’ve agreed to give you guys studio time to get the album done. You’ve got three months, and you can utilize any MGA property. The only stipulation is you lock that shit down, give them an album they can do something with, and you leave this week.”

Viper waggled his brows at Killian. “Miami?”

“Hell yes,” Jagger said. “I’m over this snow shit.”

Killian looked at me. “What about you, Halo? Think you can write some songs in Miami?”

Uh, I could write a song in a cardboard box if it was going to be on the radio or on a TBD album, but I tried to rein in my excitement and play it cool.

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Miami works.”

“Good. Be at the studio tomorrow at noon, and then pack your shit for the weekend.” Brian turned to leave, but then seemed to remember something. “Oh yeah. You’ve got a Late Night with Carly Wilde performance Friday. Make sure you’ve got a new name when you show up.”

“A new name?” I said. And a TV performance? Shit.

“New band name. TBD’s dead. Try to come up with something a little more original this time, guys.”

With that, Brian slammed the door shut, and a few seconds later, Killian’s front door also slammed shut.

“Man, I fucking hate that guy,” Viper said. “I don’t give a shit if he’s been with us since the beginning. Money’s made him a douchebag.”