Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion, #3)(32)

“Happy tears.” Jazz sniffled and reached for Deacon’s hand. He pulled both Gray and Jazz off the floor.

Jazz threw herself into Deacon’s arms. “We got this amazing bonus for our record sales.”

Deacon stroked a gentle hand down her flashing braids. “Is that so?”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, dude!”

Deacon’s hand stilled. “Each?”

“Yes.” Jazz bounced back. “I can’t even. We can get our house.” She turned and threw herself into Gray’s arms. “Babe, we can buy our house.” And then the tears started again.

Simon jammed his hands in his pockets. He knew they were supposed to be good tears, but man, there were a lot of them. Then Harper walked over and the lot of them were squealing about houses and babies and he decided it was a good time for a break.

He wandered out to the main part of the club. New York had been slick blues and red and this was industrial rust. Copper and dark browns with moody lights.

He liked it better. It was gritty and honest. The building had been through a few different incarnations and you could see it in the layers of the place. The ghosts of the past that were looking for something.

Like him.

Rough, rusty spots that had a bit of a spit-shine, hoping for better. A catwalk that hung above the bar and looked down on everything. Helluva vantage point for the show.

That’s where he’d go.

His arms ached to climb up there and get a look at the surroundings. But that would have to wait. Lila was incoming with her ridiculous heels and suits that shouldn’t belong at a rock show and yet...she did.

She’d quickly become important to all of them, even if he wanted her schedules to burn in the fiery pits of hell. She was miles better than their old manager. At least Lila played to their strengths instead of trying to force the band into the mainstream version of a typical release party.

They weren’t there to schmooze. There was some of that required, of course, but for the most part she wanted them playing up to the camera and building the buzz. She didn’t trot them out in front of a row of reporters and hope for the best.

She hand-selected bloggers, YouTube sensations, and even some of the smaller fry people that had supported them in the beginning. She was damn savvy and the fact that she was a brain trust on top of it all seemed incredibly unfair to all the other people in the music business.

They had to work hard to keep up.

“Mr. Kagan, you are late for an interview.”

“Sorry, was dealing with the Kleenex commercial that is our pregnant drummer.”

“Oh.” Lila flicked a glance over at the still sobbing Jazz. “Do I need to go over there?”

The fact that every part of her expression clearly wanted him to say no urged him to tell her yes. But he couldn’t do that to her. Lila didn’t deal well with tears either. It just caused her to bark orders.

“Nah, she’s good. They’re all excited about the house money you and Ripper Records just added to their nest egg.”

“Oh. Well, that’s great.” Her brow furrowed.

“Yeah, I can tell by the look on your face.”

Instantly, her forehead smoothed. “I aim to increase their wedded bliss.”

He barked out a laugh. “No you don’t. You see the white picket fence and three more babies.”

“Plenty of women have had babies and careers, Simon.”

“And Pix will be one of them. Don’t worry, she doesn’t know how to be away from her drum kit for long.”

“You seem very sure of yourself.”

“And you should stop drinking Nicky’s hater-aid.”

Lila hugged her iPad to her chest. “Excuse me if I worry about your careers. You are just exploding onto the scene now and you guys are going to disappear in a few months. Are you sure I can’t convince you to find an interim drummer?” Her face was earnest and serious all at the same time. “It would solve a lot of problems.”

“The band doesn’t work without Jazz and you know that.”

Lila sighed and looked at her peep-toe shoes. “We could try it.”

“We could try it, but it wouldn’t work.” He laced his hands behind his head. “Then where would you be if we had to back out?”

“Backing out isn’t a good idea.” Lila’s gaze turned determined. “Not a good idea at all. The insurance is a nightmare and every contract we sign with a venue could come back and bite us in the ass due to the revenue they’ll lose if we miss a show.”

Simon’s hands fell to his sides. “What if someone was sick?”

“Let’s just keep everyone healthy, shall we?” She tried to walk by and Simon caught her elbow.

“What if something happened?”

“Let’s put it this way. The tour is your major moneymaker. Missing just one show could set you back half a million.”

“Half a...” Simon swallowed. “That much?”

“Between what you get to play from the venue, the merchandising, and what they have to go through to return tickets…yeah, it’s not good.”

Simon frowned. The business side of music was a f*cking buzzkill.

One of the dozens of minions that were crawling all over the space walked by with a bucketful of iced water bottles. Simon snaked one out of the huge red bin with a quick smile at Lila. “I’ll just hydrate now.”