Angel (Fallen Angel, #3)(14)

There wasn’t an ounce of guilt on Viper’s face, though, as he dropped his arm from my shoulder and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “But what? You think a picture of me and Halo online is gonna change the minds of thousands of fans?”

“It might. Look, none of us want to think that could happen, but we can’t be naive about this. It was quite a statement you two made, and some people aren’t gonna like that.” Before Viper could protest, Killian put his hands up. “We’re all with you on this, okay? So don’t lash out at me. You knew this would happen, and now it has. We deal with whatever comes our way together, yeah?”

Viper gave a nod. “Yeah.”

“Good. So as far as MGA goes, we just prove them wrong and sell a shit-ton of albums.”

“Easy as that?” I said.

“Might’ve helped if you two were available to give out complimentary blowjobs for sales, but…”

Viper threw one of the decorative pillows toward Killian’s head so fast that it was like he’d pulled the string of a bow and let an arrow fly free. Killian jerked to the side, the pillow barely clipping his shoulder before crashing into the table lamp, sending it flying to the floor and smashing into a hundred pieces.

We all froze as Killian looked down at the broken shards beside him, and then he shrugged. “Moving on. Something else happened last night, something I’m seriously upset about missing—Viper fired Brian.”

My surprise matched Slade’s and Jagger’s, our mouths all hanging open. Not that I could say I was disappointed, but Viper hadn’t mentioned it, and the last time I saw Brian, he was still trying to call the shots.

“About damn time,” Jagger said. “We shoulda done that a while ago.”

“You’re welcome.” Viper threw his arm over the back of the couch again and crossed an ankle over his knee, looking entirely too smug.

“You fired Brian? When?” I said.

“Right after he told me you should be fucking a supermodel.” Viper’s eyes narrowed to slits as he seemed to recall whatever showdown had happened between the two of them.

“That’s it?” I said. “That’s why you fired him?”

“No. The little bitch kept running his mouth, but I would’ve fired him for a lot less, trust me.”

“No one’s complaining about Brian being gone,” Killian said. “But what that means now is that we need to find a new manager before the tour starts.”

I frowned. “Is that a requirement? Having a manager? And I’m honestly asking. I don’t know how this works or what Brian did exactly.”

None of the guys seemed willing to volunteer that info, and my guess was it was because they didn’t want a replacement when Brian had been such a nightmare. Finally, Killian spoke up.

“Unfortunately, we do. They handle all the business shit we know nothin’ about, which means our deals, endorsements, negotiating contracts. They make our travel arrangements, maintain our schedules.”

“Can we hire someone who doesn’t talk shit about us this time? ’Cause that’d be great,” Jagger said.

“Should be easy enough. Find someone sane, smart, and with the balls to deal with the five of us motherfuckers. No problem.”

“Where do we even start looking?” Slade asked.

“Probably in the Help Wanted section,” Viper muttered. “Where we should’ve looked instead of hiring Brian in the first place. You know, I bet that asshole didn’t even try to negotiate with MGA for us. He probably took what they offered and ran.”

“Probably,” Killian agreed, and then he caught sight of Slade’s creased forehead. “Don’t worry, we’re not looking at the Help Wanted ads. I’ll put out some feelers and see what I can find.”

Poor Killian. Always the one doing the tough shit no one else volunteered for. He was definitely the unofficial leader of the group, the one who tried to keep the peace, the one who kept on top of everything so the rest of us knew what the hell was going on. Viper may have veto power, but he wasn’t out looking for a new manager, was he?

“Thanks for heading that up,” I told Killian, as I settled back against Viper’s arm and edged my hand toward his thigh, my pinkie barely grazing the fabric of his jeans. When he caught the movement, he moved my hand to rest on his thigh as he continued responding to something Jagger had asked. No one else paid any attention to what he’d done, because the move had been so casual, so normal, that the only person affected was me.

Just sitting here with my boyfriend during a band meeting, no big deal.

Shit, how had this become my new normal? But it was. And I fucking loved it.





Ten





Halo





“SPECIAL DELIVERY,” I said as I rounded the granite island in Viper’s kitchen and slid the flat envelope his way. It was marked “confidential” in big red letters, and he looked up from where he was buttering toast to glance at it.

“Why don’t you open it?”

“Because it says ‘confidential.’”

Viper stopped what he was doing and raised a brow. “So?”

“So…you’re allowed to have your privacy.”

“Angel?”