Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
He and Ryder share a look.
“Ah.” I nod. “Got it.”
Ryder’s a weird closet case. He kept it a secret from us and the rest of the guys a long while, but it was never from self-hatred or shame. More self-preservation. He’s always been comfortable with who he is but has trouble labeling it.
And don’t I know what that’s like.
“I’m starting my own record label,” Harley says.
My head swivels in his direction so fast the room spins. “Really?”
On one hand, good for him. On the other … jealousy tries to make an appearance.
I love Harley like a brother. But brothers can get competitive. I always knew he’d succeed when Eleven broke up, but I also thought the rest of us would be there with him. Except for Ryder, who wanted out completely.
Harley nods toward Ryder’s partner. “Lyric is the first act I’ve signed. He’s amazing.”
I’m … confused. “Okay.” I drag out the word. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Well, the second act I’m hoping to have on my label is Eleven.”
That clarifies absolutely nothing. “That will never happen.”
“Come on,” Harley says. “If I can get Ryder to agree, I have to at least hope the rest of you will jump at the chance.”
“Why? Because we’re so much crappier than you? Because we need you to succeed? Fuck you.”
“Denny.” Harley sighs. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
I stare down at my empty hand, wishing another drink would magically appear. “Then what do you mean?”
Harley and Ryder look at each other and say at the same time, “We miss it.”
“We miss being part of a group,” Harley adds.
“I just miss recording,” Ryder says.
I frown. “Are you guys high? You want to go back to living on top of each other, fighting, bickering …” Accidentally falling for your bandmate and making a fool of yourself in front of him …
“Yep. We miss it all,” Ryder says.
“But your daughter.”
Ryder shrugs. “Her mom’s back in the picture, and Harley’s agreed to touring over summers where they can come with us.”
I turn to Harley. “You’re a Grammy Award–winning solo artist.”
“Shit, am I?”
“I have my talent show and another album to cut.” If my label gives me a new contract, that is. “So, thanks, but no thanks.” I can’t go back.
Even if touring with the guys was the best time of my life. It was carefree, and while there was pressure, it wasn’t as heavy when there were four others to help handle it. Plus, our albums sold so easily. We could’ve had a record of us reading the dictionary, and teenagers everywhere would’ve gotten smarter from it.
Going back to that could be the resurrection of my career that I desperately need, but it will come at a cost.
I’d have to swallow my pride, and that’s something I’ve never been good at doing.
Look at the smoke-and-mirrors show I’m putting on out there for everyone to see.
My career is going down in flames, and I’m sitting and watching, telling myself everything is fine.
“Come on,” Harley says. “You were supposed to be the easy sell.”
“Why do you want to go back? It doesn’t make any sense to me. We’ve all moved on.” I stand. “Besides, you think Blake is going to give up the silver screen? Hell no. You think Mason is going to come out of hiding?”
Ugh, just saying his name sends a twinge through my chest.
Mason and I were best friends once upon a time. We were closer than Harley and Ryder, even.
I must’ve said the wrong thing because Harley’s face lights up.
“You know where Mason is?”
“No.” Yes. Well, I have a fairly good idea.
His family owns land in the middle of nowhere Montana. After Eleven hit it big, he built a “cabin” out there. And by cabin, I mean a mansion. I’m not certain if he’s there, but I’m assuming he is. He took me there whenever Eleven was on break because I had no one to go home to.
With a drug addict for a mom, I was raised by my grandmother when the state took me away from Mom’s toxic behavior. I’m pretty sure I’m the result of her making a deal with either her pimp or her dealer, so yeah, the first few years of my life were delightful. Luckily, I was too young to really remember much before my grandmother reluctantly took me in.
She raised me and cared for me right up until she passed away when I was sixteen.
By that point, I was in a famous boy band and could prove to the courts I was able to provide for myself.
Pro tip: don’t let sixteen-year-olds dictate their own lives.
When I was eighteen, I needed a financial advisor to keep my spending under control.
I had the habit of shopping for expensive and meaningless things to fill my house. Because when you grow up with nothing, the constant reminder you can afford a twenty-thousand-dollar duck statue fills that void. His name is Bill, and he’s essential to my mental well-being.