Текст книги "Untamed"

Автор книги: S. C. Stephens

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

Chapter 8

You Wish You Were as Awesome as Me

Anna somehow managed to calm me down enough that we finished the ceremony. I was steaming mad the entire time though. Who the fuck did Kellan think he was that he could just shuck us off whenever it suited him. We were the D-Bags, not the Kellan Kyle–Bags.

The second the service was over, I grabbed Kellan by the elbow and dragged him outside. This could get ugly, and the pastor was already giving me evil eyes for swearing in his church. A crowd followed us to the parking lot, but I didn’t care. I had nothing to hide here. Kellan was the one deceiving everyone by accepting one-sided deals that excluded the foundation he’d been built upon. He’d be nothing without us, and he knew it.

Dropping his arm, I poked him in the chest. I hoped he appreciated my self-control, since I really wanted to slug him in the face. “What the fuck is going on, Kellan? You ditchin’ us? Think you’re all high and mighty now, huh? Well, who the fuck do you think got you this far!” I poked him in the chest again for emphasis.

Kellan’s face clouded as he batted my hand away. “It’s not what you think, so calm down.”

“I’m perfectly fucking calm!” I shouted.

Denny and the guys had joined us by this time. Evan and Matt looked confused; Denny looked like he was a schoolteacher and we were all his unruly children. His dark eyes locked on mine. “If you stop screaming, I can explain to you just what the deal on the table was. A deal that Kellan rejected, by the way.”

His words pierced my veil of anger. “Rejected?” I asked Denny.

He nodded, then looked around at the crowd of friends and family members watching the commotion with unabashed interest. “Maybe we could take this somewhere more private?” Denny suggested.

Glancing at the crowd watching, I met eyes with Anna. She had that same panicked expression that she’d had the last time I’d truly vented my frustrations with the band. She didn’t want us fighting. I didn’t either, but goddammit, enough was enough. Looking back at Denny and Kellan, I nodded toward my car. “Step into my office.”

Denny and Kellan exchanged a look, then Kellan motioned for Evan and Matt. Might as well talk to us all together, since his betrayal involved them too. As we moved toward my Hummer, the crowd shifted to follow us. Kellan looked around until he spotted his bodyguard. “Sam, we need a minute alone.”

The big man nodded and instantly went into bouncer mode. “Everybody stays here,” he barked, moving around in front of the crowd. Crossing his arms over his chest, he added, “Don’t think I won’t bust your head just because you’re related.” One of my cousins sniggered and took a step forward. Sam’s eyes immediately locked onto him. “I’ll start with you, asswipe. Stay where you are.”

While Sam corralled my relatives, I stormed off with the guys. Once we were all sitting inside my car, I started in on Kellan. He put his hands up and interrupted me before I could say much more than “What the hell?”

“I didn’t ask for anything, I was simply approached with an offer.” Kellan was sitting in the center of the backseat, with Matt and Evan on either side of him. Glancing at the two of them, he repeated, “They approached me, and I said no.”

Matt’s brows furrowed. “Who approached you? With what?”

Kellan looked up at Denny in the front seat, with an expression that clearly said, Help me. Denny responded in that I’m the boss tone of voice that I assumed he used at his day job, since he wasn’t in any way the boss of us. “The producers of the movie franchise Battle Robots approached Kellan about recording a song for their upcoming soundtrack.”

For a second, my only thought was, Holy crap! Another Battle Robots movie? Awesome! I love that shit. But then Denny kept speaking, and my entire view of the movie series changed.

“They only wanted Kellan though,” Denny said in a solemn voice. “It was a one-time, one-song deal that would have put the D-Bags in the spotlight next summer…if Kellan had said yes. But, like I said, he rejected the offer.”

With the look Denny gave Kellan, it was clear he thought Kellan was an idiot for saying no. A small part of me agreed, but the majority of me felt too slighted to let that tiny rational thought slip through. “Why the fuck didn’t they want all of us? Why just Kellan?”

Denny looked uncomfortable and wouldn’t look directly at me. Then, with a sigh, he made eye contact. “They said…Kellan was the talent. Obviously, that’s just an opinion, you’re all valuable to the band.”

Matt and Evan seemed irked, but I was clearly the only one who was truly outraged. “Fuck. That. Shit. Kellan’s just one part of the band. He wouldn’t be king of the universe without us. In fact, if he did try to do a solo project, it would probably suck because we weren’t a part of it. We’re the Bags to his Douche.”

As one, they all turned to stare at me, wide-eyed. “What?” I asked, still steamed.

Matt shook his head, like he was clearing an Etch-A-Sketch. Evan turned away while Denny looked like he was plotting his next speech. Kellan was the one who answered me. “I’m not king of the universe. I know this is a team effort, Griff, that’s why I said no.”

His expression turned hard as he stared me down. “I’ve done things for this band that I’m not proud of, just for the sake of the team, so don’t you dare try to turn me into the bad guy here. I said no. I’m not doing it. End of story.” Looking pissed, he glanced between Evan and Matt. “Someone let me the fuck out of this car. I’m done talking to this idiot.”

Matt and Evan opened their doors simultaneously and stepped out. Kellan followed out Evan’s door and then dramatically slammed it shut behind him. He stormed off and Evan chased after him. Still looking like he was processing everything that had been said, Matt shut his door and walked away.

Once the guys were out of sight, Denny let out a long exhale. “What?” I muttered, sitting back in my seat.

“Has anyone ever talked to you about diplomacy before?” he asked.

“No. I’m not a fucking politician.”

He sighed again. “I’m just saying there are ways to talk to people that will get you better results than insults, swears, and belittling.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “You might try using your big words one day,” he said, his voice condescending.

Brushing off his hand, I slowly extended my middle finger. “That big enough for you? If not, I’ve got a bigger one.” I grabbed my junk and gave myself a good squeeze.

Denny shook his head, then opened his car door. “Nice chatting with you, Griffin. It’s a treat, as always.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said as he closed the door.

Now alone with my thoughts, I started simmering in my anger. Fucking Kellan. Fucking Denny. Fucking D-Bags. I was quickly getting tired of all of them.

Anna joined me while I was still fuming in the car. “You okay?” she asked. “Things with you and Kellan seemed kind of…tense.” Her brows were bunched with concern, and she was searching my face like she was looking for injuries, like I’d been duking it out with the guys or something.

Looking at her worried expression brought the weight of the recent argument crashing down around me; I could feel it compressing against my chest like a ton of bricks. Not liking the dark path my thoughts were taking, I asked Anna, “Where are the girls?”

“My mom has them. I thought you might want to talk about what happened. Will you tell me what’s going on?” She put a hand on my thigh and started squeezing me like a cat kneading its claws. I was sure she had meant the touch to be supportive, but it just seemed nervous to me, like she was sure I was about to crack her world apart. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to. I just needed to be ticked for a while.

With a frown, I told her, “It’s just…once again, Kellan is hogging all the glory and I’m being shoved into the background. He is the talent, my ass. You know, babe, between Kellan’s selfishness, Matt’s dickheadedness, and Evan’s indifference…I don’t know what the fuck I’m still doing with them.” I was a little surprised that I’d said it out loud, that I’d finally admitted it to her so bluntly, but the longer it lingered in the air, the more right it felt.

Anna clearly didn’t agree. Her face shifted into an alarming shade of white, and her hand tightened around my thigh so hard I could almost feel the bruise forming. “What are you saying, Griff?” Her voice was shaky, like she was on the verge of losing her composure.

She looked stressed by this conversation, and with everything on her plate right now, what with my family and the new baby, I kind of felt like a selfish dick for adding to her hardships. I knew she thought of the band as family, and she wanted me to suck it up so we could all be happy. But we weren’t. Not really. Matt, Evan, and Kellan were happy, but I was stuck. There was nothing I could do about it though. Nothing but bitch, and that wasn’t getting me anywhere.

The look in her eyes was making my stomach twist into a knot, and I felt like Sam had me in a stranglehold, but…being stuck in a rut that I couldn’t get out of felt worse. Would she stay with me if I jumped this track? I didn’t know for sure, and that scared the shit of me. Wanting to be honest, I quietly told her, “I don’t know, Anna. I just don’t know.”

Anna started patting my knee and nodding, almost obsessively. “It’s okay. We’ll come up with something together. Just don’t…don’t do anything rash. Not without talking to me first, okay?”

Since there was nothing I could do at the moment anyway, I nodded. Anna’s face immediately brightened, which actually made me feel a little better. At least one of us was happy. And that would have to be enough. But even as I thought it, I knew her happiness wouldn’t be enough to tide me over forever. Something needed to change.

I skipped meeting up with the guys that night. Screw ’em. I was expecting an angry phone call, but I never got one. No calls at all. Guess we all needed a break from each other.

Anna needed a reprieve from the chaos of the house, so she’d organized a night out with some ex-coworkers from Hooters. She’d been on track to being on the chain’s management team until we’d financially sealed ourselves together. But with what I made, the paycheck there just wasn’t worth the time and effort. It made more sense for her to stay home with the kids. I think she missed it sometimes. The independence of having her own income, the adult interaction, the men ogling her, although I ogled her enough, so that shouldn’t really be a problem.

She was hesitant to leave me though, knowing I was in a mood. “I can reschedule if you want me to stay home tonight and talk some more. It’s no big deal.”

I knew that wasn’t 100 percent true though. Anna had been going stir-crazy at the house, especially with my family here. She wanted a break. She deserved a break. And…I really didn’t want to talk. “Nah, I’m fine, everything’s fine. Go have fun, you need it.”

With a smile sexy enough to be on every billboard in town, she kissed my cheek. “You’re the best. I won’t be gone long, I promise.” A few minutes later, she left, and oddly enough, without her presence near me, my mood darkened like the sun had just set.

My family wanted to chitchat, but I ignored them all and went to my room to sulk. Grabbing a tennis ball, I sat on the floor at the foot of the bed and played a game I liked to call Whack Imaginary Kellan in the Nose.

Repetitiously tossing the ball against the wall, watching it bounce on the floor, then catching it was soothing, and after a while, I stopped picturing Kellan’s face—a face that for some reason drove girls crazy—and zoned out. My mood evened as my mind dulled, and when I heard a light knock on the door, I automatically said, “Come in.”

When the door creaked open, I expected to see someone holding one of my girls with an exasperated look that said, Please take them. But instead, it was Chelsey at the door. She gave me a small wave while I resumed my peaceful habit.

Sliding onto the floor beside me, she slowly said, “So…today was interesting. What was that about with Kellan?”

Thinking about Denny’s comment—that the producers thought Kellan was the only one with talent—made my stomach roil again. When I caught the ball, I squeezed it so hard I thought it might split a seam. “Same old, same old. Everyone thinks he shits gold and the rest of us are just his backup dancers. Just once, I’d like people to notice me, ya know? Just once, I want to shine. I want…” I sighed. “I just want a chance…”

Chelsey put a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll get it. And if you don’t…does it really matter? Isn’t being the backup dancer for the biggest band on earth better than being the star of a band no one knows about? Being in a band was all you ever wanted as a kid.”

I looked her square in the eye for several longs seconds before answering. “No, it’s not enough to be second fiddle in a great band. I want both—to be the biggest star in the biggest band. I want it all.”

Chelsey looked sad as she shrugged. “Do you know the fable about the dog with a steak?”

I hated fables. They were all incomprehensible, childish rubbish. “No, but I’m positive it doesn’t apply to my life.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. The dog in the fable has everything going for him, but he loses it all because he wants more. You might want to read it.”

With an irritated huff, I resumed throwing the ball against the wall. “Like I said, it doesn’t apply to me. I don’t want more, I just want what I deserve to have, what I should already have…” A chance to shine, a moment in the spotlight unclouded by the rest of the guys. That was it. And that wasn’t much.

Chelsey sighed, patted my shoulder again, then stood up. “Be mindful of that steak, Griffin. It’s rarer than you realize.”

Snatching the ball, I looked up at her. “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

She sighed, and she looked about ten years older as she tucked her hair behind her ears. “I know. And I’m scared for you, because I feel like…when you do figure it out, it’s going to be too late.”

I was agitated when Chelsey left the room, and no amount of ball thwacking could restore my serenity. Things just weren’t turning out like I thought they would. I thought I’d have my name alone in lights by now, but more often than not, people didn’t know who I was, not like they did Kellan. People just had to look at his hair and they recognized him. Me? I practically had to spell it out for them before they understood who I was—Oh yeah, that bassist guy who got caught jacking off. Didn’t sit right with me. I should be just as big as Kellan.

The sting of fans wanting me to rename my child crawled up my spine, followed closely by that stupid producer’s stupid words—He is the talent. While that sentence still sizzled my skin, the praises that Kellan’s numerous fans bombarded me with shuffled through my brain, leaving whiplike scars across my skull. He’s so amazing, so sexy, so good onstage, he has such a good voice and such a great body, and he seems like such an amazing husband, father, lover, person…

And you…you’re good too.

Fuck that. I was so much better than good, it was ridiculous. Sure, I might have blown it when Matt had given me a chance on lead, but that was nerves and lack of practice. They never let me play, so how could they expect me to rock it at a moment’s notice. But if they gave me all the chances that they gave Matt, I’d be prolific in no time. I mean, I’m a savant, how could I not be awesome? Which brought to my greatest beef with the band—Matt proclaiming that I’d never do anything but play bass. You will never play lead. Those words still pissed me off. I didn’t see one good reason why we couldn’t share the spotlight.

The guys needed to accept my greatness instead of trying to bury it even further. Yeah, since the very beginning of the band, they’d been too busy holding me back to truly appreciate me. And now I’d bumped into the proverbial ceiling with the D-Bags, and I had nowhere left to go.

Fuck. I needed to be drunk, not hiding in my room overthinking shit I couldn’t change.

Tossing the ball into the closet, I stood up and grabbed my keys off my nightstand. Anna would probably be pissed when she got home and found out that I’d left our kids with my family, but at the moment, I didn’t care. She could bitch at me all she wanted, I was leaving.

Stepping into the living room, I could hear shrieks and howls from people in the pool. There was always somebody in the pool now. I never got a chance to use it in my preferred way anymore, buck naked. Damn shame, and pretty annoying. Swim shorts were for pussies.

Since the frantic energy in the house was about to make me lose my mind, I held my hands up and shouted, “Whoever the fuck has my kids, please tell them I’ll be back in a few hours.” I turned to leave as everyone stopped moving to stare at me. Rethinking my statement, I rotated back around and added, “Please watch Gibson with small objects, she still likes to taste…everything. And don’t let her bully you into staying up late or having ice cream for dinner, and make her brush her teeth, and watch her around Onnika. And…give her a kiss for me…Onnika too.”

My mom appeared at the top of the stairs, Onnika in her hands. She nodded at me, and I knew my kids would be well looked after. I immediately spun around and left. I needed beer. Obscene amounts of beer.

Maybe because I wanted a taste of the old days, when everyone knew me, loved me, and worshipped me, or maybe because I just didn’t know where else to go, I ended up going to Pete’s. The guys and I still stopped in on occasion, but it was usually for some promotional type thing. The bar was different now, which kind of irritated me. Different waitresses, different band…even a different sign. Where it used to only say PETE’S BAR in modestly sized neon, now it proudly proclaimed: PETE’S BAR, HOME OF THE D-BAGS. That second line was nearly as large as the first.

On a night when I wasn’t wishing to reminiscence about the old days, that would have been fine, but tonight, I felt like going back in time. Back when Kellan and I were equals, and I still thought I had a chance to stand out. I’d still had hope back then. Here, at this bar, I had been a god.

There was one thing about Pete’s that hadn’t changed since the good old days though. The bartender. Ragtag Rita still called the shots here, and she nearly dropped a full glass of beer when she saw me. “Holy shit! Do my eyes deceive me, or is the D-Bag of all D-Bags before me?”

Smiling, I sidled up to the bar and sat on a stool. “It is so fucking good to see you, Reets.” And thank you for not mentioning Kellan.

With a sultry grin that promised a good time if I asked nicely, she set the beer she’d just poured in front of me. Rita was older, like, probably my mom’s age, but I’d still do her, or I would have, before Anna. She had that I’m desperate to reclaim my youth vibe about her.

Leaning over the bar, giving me a glorious view of her cleavage, she murmured, “So, hot stuff, you here alone, or are the rest coming in with you?” By the gleam in her eye as she watched the front doors, I knew she was waiting for Kellan to walk through them.

I couldn’t escape him no matter where I went.

I started chugging the beer and didn’t stop until it was finished. With a mighty belch, I slammed the glass down on the bar and wiped my mouth. Fuck yes. That was exactly what I’d needed. “Left the fuckers at home, where they belong. Keep the beers comin’. I want to walk out of here barely able to hold my guts in.”

She raised a painted-on eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Get me drunk enough and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Shaking her head, she turned behind her to grab a bottle of Pendleton. “You need something a bit stronger than beer, babe.” She grabbed a glass, put a few chunks of ice in it, then poured the whiskey on top, well over the halfway point of the glass.

Yes, she was right, I did need more. And that was why I loved coming here. The people got me. “Thanks, Reets. You’re the best thing about this place, you know?”

She gave me a wink as I tilted the glass back. “Oh, honey, I’ve known that for years.”

As I took a large gulp of whiskey, I looked around the bar. Being Sunday, it was fairly empty. Just a few regulars who—I swear to God—came in every night, rain or shine. When they lifted their gazes from their drinks and saw me leaning back against the bar, they started approaching me. Then it was excited thumps on the back and shots all around. God, it was good to be home. I had no idea why I didn’t come back here more often.

While I caught up with old friends at a table near the stage, a group of sorority girls came in. I was buzzing my ass off by this point, and the familiar attraction hit me hard. Things were different now, but not different enough that I didn’t notice them and want to make them notice me. I was feeling a little invisible, and I needed some feminine encouragement to shake off that feeling. Nothing that Anna would get ticked about, just a bit of…worshipping was all I wanted.

I shifted my chair toward the girls’ table. “Hey, ladies!” I yelled. When they all twisted to look at me, I grabbed my cock and put on a smug smile. “See anything you like?”

They all gave me the look I loved to get from women. It was an expression of horror, disgust, and intrigue. If I was that brazen with my clothes on, what would I do with them off? That curiosity alone had scored me more chicks than I could count. But then their expressions changed. One by one, they glanced from me to the D-Bags shrine, then back to me. Once it clicked who I was, they started shrieking loud enough for every person in the bar to look at them.

“Oh my God! You’re in the band! You’re one of the D-Bags!”

They rushed over to me, faces alight with earnest interest. Slinking back in my chair, I casually raised a hand. “Yeah, I’m with the band.” The band of merry dream-killing assholes. I didn’t mention that though.

The girls circled around me like vultures settling in on their prey. Some kneeled to get down to my level, one made herself at home on my lap. The alcohol brimming through my veins really liked that.

While I soaked in the feminine attention, the girls started asking me questions. When what they were saying sank in, I found their presence less pleasant. “So, you’re around Kellan Kyle all the time…what is he like? Is he really that good looking? Does he ever…play around with other girls beside his wife? Could we get his phone number? Could you give him ours?” The girl on my lap dramatically let her head fall backward. “God that man is gorgeous. I would let him do absolutely anything he wanted to me…” She started running her hands over her breasts, and that was when I had enough. I shoved her off my lap, and she hit the floor with a thud.

All of her friends let out startled gasps, while the guys around me chuckled. The chick I’d dumped glared at me with eyes that were certainly channeling every evil spirit on earth. “What the fuck? Asshole!”

Not in the mood, I held up a hand. “Save your outrage for someone who gives a shit.”

Standing up, she brushed off her short skirt. Her friends swarmed around her, like they were forming a shield. A shield of indignation. “You may be famous and all, but you’re just an asshole jerk, like every other guy out there.”

“Except Kellan, right? You still want me to give him your number?” She hesitated, like she actually thought I was going to do it for her.

Not wanting anything more from these Kellan-worshipping girls, I turned away with a hard laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll get your number off the stall door,” I sniggered. “You can go.”

Something heavy hit me in the back of the head, and twisting around, I saw the girl clutching her purse to her chest as she shook in rage. She hit me with her purse? That was a new one. “You’re a fucking asshole, and I’m going to let the whole world know it.”

I shrugged, then turned around and ignored her. She could try, but nobody really knew me anyway. Even my short stint as Hand Solo was all but gone. I’d disappeared back into Kellan’s gargantuan shadow, where I was forever destined to stay. Fuck my life.

Numerous regulars went home, but I stayed. I was closing the place down tonight; hadn’t done that in a long time. And I was sloppy drunk too. As the night wore on, my phone buzzed more and more often, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to deal with obligations right now, I just wanted to get fucked up.

Hours later, I was alone at my table, teetering on the edge of vomiting or passing out, when a guy I didn’t know sat across from me. He was wearing a suit, complete with a tie, and looked really out of place here. I tried to tell him to fuck off, but all that came out of my mouth was a weird grunting sound. Maybe if I chucked on his shoes he’d get the message.

With a smile that was way too bright for this late at night, he stretched his hand across the table. “Hi, my name is Harold Berk. You’re Griffin Hancock, correct?”

I stared at his fingers but didn’t touch him. When he realized I wasn’t the handshaking type, he pulled his arm back. “Yeah, that’s me. Who wants to know?”

His brows drew together in concentration, and I knew my speech was coming out so slurred it was like I was speaking another language. I didn’t repeat myself though. Let him figure it out. “Um, like I said, my name is Harold Berk. I represent Iris Production Studios.”

I didn’t know what this guy was talking about, but the instant the word “production” hit my ears, Kellan’s solo offer flashed through my mind. Pointing at the guy, I snarled, “You tell those lamebrain fuckers that you work for that they are…lame…and they don’t know what they’re missing. Kellan has the talent…ha! Kellan has the herpes, that’s what he has! Well, the odds are good anyway…Dude’s a whore.” Wiping some spittle off my lips, I finished with “Battle Robots suck anyway. Thirty-foot-tall robots fighting monsters in the streets…fucking awesome.” I shook my head, making the world dance. “I mean…fucking ridiculous.”

Whatever his name was across from me looked even more confused by my ramblings. “Battle Robots? No, no I’m not talking about that. Or Kellan. I’m here to talk to you.”

Curiosity reached through my hazy brain to flip on a light switch of intrigue. “Who are you again?”

The man sighed. “My name is Harold Berk, for the third time, and I represent Iris Production Studios. I’m here to proposition you.”

I immediately held both of my hands up, accidently hitting my glass and spilling some whiskey on the table. “I don’t do dudes, so you can save the proposition.”

The guy…Arnold or something…closed his eyes. “I’m not…that’s not…” With a strained expression, he reopened his eyes. “Iris Studios is currently producing a pilot for a TV show. It’s about an up-and-coming rock star, struggling to navigate the dark and seedy side of show business as he attempts to make a name for himself. Think Sopranos meets The Partridge Family. Naturally, we need a musically gifted actor to play the lead. We’ve searched the world over, Mr. Hancock, auditioned dozens of musicians, but no one else will do, because no one else is you…”

By the way he said it, it was clear he was expecting some sort of response from me. I had no idea what he was droning on about though.

“What?” I said to Arnold Berkanator. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening. Could you repeat that?”

He looked at my glass, then back up to my face. “Maybe we should talk later, when you’re sober.”

He handed me a business card, but I swished my hand at him instead of taking it. “Nah, now is good. I remember crap better when I’m plastered. Ask the guys. I learned all our songs shit-faced.”

Arnold brought his hands to his head and started rubbing circles into his skull. Ah, he must’ve suffered from the not-enough-sex headaches that Kellan had. I’d sympathize, but I never had that problem. “Like I said, we want you to film a TV show about an up-and-coming musician. You would be the focal point of the show—the star.”

The fuzziness in my head instantly evaporated at his magic words—You would be…the star. The rock star, star. I slapped my hand down on the table. “I’m in! Where do I sign up?”

Arnold didn’t look any less confused by my pronouncement. “Do you want to hear any more details about the show, about your role in it, about our vision, about the steps we’ll need to go through to get the show on the air?”

I took a long gulp of my whiskey. It went down as smooth as apple juice now. “Nope. Don’t care. You had me at star.”

Shaking his head, Arnold said, “Well, all right…I’m glad to hear you’re on board. If you give me your number, I’ll call you tomorrow with details about the pilot.” I instantly reached into my pocket and handed him my phone. He stared at it, blinking, then he finally picked it up. “Getting a show on the air these days is a complicated process, and even great shows sometimes fail. Because of the riskiness involved, I’m obligated to tell you that we’re only filming the pilot right now. There is no guarantee the series will be picked up, or that it will remain on the air if it does get picked up. The market is very competitive, but with your high-profile status, I have no doubt that the show will be a smashing success.”

Finishing my whiskey, I banged the glass against the table. “Dude, that shit’s practically guaranteed to be gold now that you’ve got me. Just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.” For a split second, my foggy brain started wondering if I should talk to the guys first, or Denny. As our manager, he might have an opinion about this. I immediately shook that thought out of my mind though. Those fuckers had abandoned me a long time ago, left me to rot in the shadows. They couldn’t blame me for trying to find some sunlight. And if it turned into something bigger one day…well, then they would only have themselves to blame for not appreciating what they’d had.

Arnold called himself from my phone to get the number, then handed it back to me and stood up. Extending his hand again, he formally stated, “It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Hancock, and I’m looking forward to our future project.”