Halo (Fallen Angel, #1)(58)

Never in my life had I wanted to be called on stage for an interview more. And when Halo grinned at Jagger and said, “Nah. You can keep the blondes, they aren’t my type,” I almost asked one of the assistants if she could bring that bottle of tequila back.

“How about he looks at Carly,” Killian said, as he shoved Jagger in the shoulder. “Since she’s the one doing the interview?”

Before anyone could chime in with anything else ridiculous, a woman with tight red curls stuck her head behind the curtain.

“You guys are on in five, four, three,” then she mouthed, Two, one, and before Jagger was shoved out from behind the curtain, he whispered to Halo, “What about redheads?”

Then Carly Wilde’s voice came over the speakers. “Please welcome to the stage, everyone, Fallen Angel.”





Thirty-Nine





Halo





“CHAMPAGNE, SIR?” THE flight attendant asked as I buckled myself in on MGA’s private jet the next morning. Private jet. Will I ever get used to this? Answer: I certainly hoped not.

As Viper made his way down the aisle, he swiped a champagne glass from the attendant’s tray. “Might as well keep the party goin’,” he said, winking my way before downing half the contents. For a heart-stopping second, I thought he’d choose the seat beside me, but he sauntered past, claiming the cream leather couch on the opposite side.

I blew out a breath and smiled at the flight attendant whose nametag read Shirley. “Thanks, Shirley, I’d love one.”

Last night’s performance on Carly Wilde’s show had gone phenomenally well—nothing like our Savannah show—and we’d spent all night celebrating at a dive bar. My head pounded, but I drank the champagne gratefully. Hair of the dog and all that.

“‘With a new name, a new sound, and a new lead singer, the band formerly known as TBD made its first live appearance last night on Late Night with Carly Wilde, and it was nothing short of spectacular.’” Killian grinned as he read to us off his phone. “‘Just last week, the world saw its first glimpse of new frontman, Halo, when the Warden posted a secretly recorded video of the singer performing what will surely be a hit if the reactions on social media are any indication. With the face of an angel and the voice to match, Halo stunned the late-night crowd, breathing new life into the powerhouse that was TBD, and all but ensuring the rockers of Fallen Angel a future spot among the greats. We’re anxiously awaiting the debut album, release date still to be announced…’”

Killian had been reading off articles the entire drive to the airport, and while I was ecstatic at the response, I couldn’t stop focusing on the work we had ahead of ourselves.

“We just have to write and record an entire album in three months and make it kickass. Worthy of being one of ‘the future greats.’ No big deal,” I said.

“You,” Viper said, pointing my way. “Drink. Stop fuckin’ stressing.”

“Yeaaah, we’re goin’ to Miami.” Jagger rolled his hips like he was grinding in a club—shit, maybe in his head he was.

“And what does that mean? You don’t stress in Miami?” I said.

“Damn right,” Killian said. “Impossible to stress in paradise. We’re gonna write, record, drink, spend every spare second on the beach—”

“And prowl at night.” Jagger high-fived Slade, and I had to shake my head. Easy as that, huh?

The pilot came on over the intercom, announcing we’d be taking off momentarily, and as the others buckled themselves in, Viper cocked his head at me.

“You still look nervous, Angel. I bet I know something that’d take your mind off those worries.” With the heated stare he was giving me, my eyes widened. What the hell was he doing?

Viper swung his champagne glass back and forth, holding it by the stem, and then he grinned. “Once we take off, how about I introduce you to the mile-high club?”

My mouth fell open. Did he really just say that in front of the others? Uh, what was I supposed to say to that? I knew what I wanted to say, but…

A chuckle met my ears, Killian shaking his head and throwing one of the pillows in Viper’s direction. “Ignore him. He asks everyone,” he said.

“Everyone, huh?” I said, raising a brow as my shoulders relaxed. “Anyone ever take you up on it?”

Slade snorted. “Oh yeah.”

“The flight attendant from the trip to Chicago,” Jagger said. “Had to grab my own damn food on that trip.”

“And the manager from… Who’s that band that opened for us in Dallas? Something stick…” Killian snapped his fingers and pointed at Viper. “Stage Trick. That’s it. He wasn’t even supposed to be on the damn plane.”

Slade laughed. “Shit yeah. And then—”

“Okay, we’re done here. Thanks for the trip down memory lane, assholes,” Viper said.

“Someone’s gotta remind you. With so many to remember, it’s gotta be a little crowded up there.” Killian tapped the side of his head, and under his breath, Viper cursed.

So Viper got around. That wasn’t exactly news to me. I’d known what I was getting myself into, but hearing the others talk about it so casually, jokingly, made me glad about his status, because it was taking the focus off what I was doing with him. Or half doing at this point.