Halo (Fallen Angel, #1)(65)

“Shit,” I said, fumbling with the buttons beside me, trying to find the one I wanted.

“I got it.” As Viper pressed the right button, the song grew louder, filling the interior of the car, and I stared at him.

“That’s us,” I said, breaking into a huge grin. “That’s me. On the radio. We’re on the fucking radio!”

Viper chuckled, but the music was so loud I couldn’t hear him. He seemed to like watching me, though, as I drank in the fact that “Invitation” wasn’t just a song in my head anymore, wasn’t just a song we played in the studio without anyone else around. It was out in the world now, playing on radio stations, and holy shit, I couldn’t get over the fact that we were sitting there listening to the final version we’d recorded and that others were listening to it too, right now, at the same time.

As the song ended and the next one began, Viper turned the music back down.

“Pretty fuckin’ cool, huh?” he said.

“Are you kidding? That was… It was… Shit, I can’t even talk.”

“Take it all in. You only get to hear your first time once.”

“Isn’t it always like that? Like, every time the new stuff comes out. Doesn’t it blow your mind you’re on the radio?”

“It used to.” Viper cracked his window open before grabbing the cigarette over his ear and the lighter from his pocket. He lit up, sucked in a long inhale, and then blew the smoke out the window. “Guess you get used to it.”

“No way. I could never get used to that.”

Viper’s lips curled as he brought the cigarette to his lips again. “That’s ’cause you’re a romantic.”

“A romantic? Me?”

“Yeah, you know, walkin’ around wearing rose-colored glasses. It’s all new to you. Exciting.” Viper blew another stream of smoke into the night air.

“That’s not a bad thing,” I said, feeling a little defensive. “It’s a huge freakin’ accomplishment to be on the radio or to get to play on a stage where people actually show up to listen to you. That doesn’t happen for most musicians, and it sure as hell never happened to me before. I’m allowed to be excited. Sorry, Mr. Cynical.”

“Don’t be sorry. I like that about you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. You remind me of how it should feel.” He cracked a smile. “I’m a jaded asshole, what can I say?”

“Jaded, yes. An asshole…eh. That wouldn’t be the word I’d choose.”

“No?” Viper’s eyes glittered in the dark. “What would you choose?”

There I’d gone, opening my mouth and backing myself into a corner without thinking it through. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Ah. Need any help?” Viper’s hand moved to my thigh and began a slow slide up, and when his fingers grazed over my dick, I sucked in a breath.

The intercom flipped on, the driver announcing our arrival at the arena, and Viper gave me a slight squeeze before pulling his hand away. He popped open the door before the driver could, and as he got out, I took the moment to adjust myself. Couldn’t go meeting the guys of The Nothing with a raging hard-on.

The driver had pulled around to the back of the venue beside a couple of tour buses, and when we got out of the car, a guy who introduced himself as the tour manager gave us a couple of backstage passes and led us inside, where the halls were filled with frenzied staff hurrying in all directions. More than a few did a double take when they saw Viper, but it must’ve been an unspoken rule that no one was to stop us, because we were led straight back to The Nothing’s dressing room. It’d been set up according to their rider, which Viper had told me used to include “normal shit like bottles of booze and fast food,” but, along with their growing success, had morphed into a full bar of high-end liquor, black curtains that covered every wall, red light bulbs replacing the white, and, in the center of the room, a huge, solid glass tank that encased a fifteen-foot boa constrictor.

“Oh shit,” I said, taking a step back from the tank.

“Scared of snakes?” Viper smirked. “Don’t worry, the only snake that’s gonna bite you tonight is standing right next to you.”

I pulled my gaze away from where the boa constrictor was stretching itself out along the side of the tank to see Viper’s devilish grin.

“Come on,” he said, his hand brushing against mine before he led us past the tank to where the members of The Nothing were being interviewed by a reporter I recognized from Entertainment Daily. When they saw Viper, the reporter was promptly ignored, the band getting up to greet him with slaps on the back, fist bumps, and curses. I stayed back a little, trying not to be starstruck, but hell, I’d been listening to these guys for over a decade. And they just so happened to be friends with Viper. Would this ever be anything but surreal?

“Guys,” Viper said, moving to the side and gesturing my way. “This is Halo, our new frontman.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Dex, the lead singer, said, shaking my hand, and then he stepped back to give me a once-over. “Jesus, you couldn’t get someone who wouldn’t make me look like an aged pig beside him, could you?”

Viper laughed. “Fuck no.”