For Love or Money Page 18

  “Great.”

  Simon and Brandon are in the restaurant at a table when we get down there. I am the only country bumpkin. Everyone else has dressed for breakfast. Even Brandon looks better. I’m the only one getting the evil eye for my jeans and tee shirt.

  “How’s the head, Bran?” Nick jokes.

  “Still taking pain killers but the prognosis is good.” The way he answers is weird–mechanical almost. Brandon doesn’t seem less virginal, at all. I cock an eyebrow at him and Simon. “You did have sex with the hookers, right?”

  Brandon nods and shrugs. “Yeah, what did you think we were doing—playing chess? But I prefer to call them experts in the trade of ejaculation.”

  Oh God. “Were you virgins when you got to the brothel?”

  Simon shakes his head eagerly, smiling for no damned reason. He’s just fucking happy at 6:00 in the morning.

  Brandon seems more confused by the question and shakes slowly, looking leery.

  “You’re like this WITH pussy in your system?” Nick grimaces.

  Brandon gives Simon a look. They shrug simultaneously as Simon asks calmly, “Like what?”

  “Like this? Pussy is supposed to make you cool and calm and addicted to getting more of it.”

  Simon wrinkles his nose. “This is sort of vulgar for breakfast table talk, don’t you think?”

  Nick sighs. “You need to be more badass band member and less schoolgirl crush. We aren’t going to appeal to the ladies if you two are acting like a couple of nerds.”

  “But we are nerds.” Brandon scowls.

  I point. “That face is perfect. Can you do that the whole show?”

  “You want me to play more angrily?”

  “Yeah.” Nick nods.

  Brandon genuinely looks offended. “NO!”

  It makes me smile. True nerds don’t change for anyone. My sister is a true nerd, through and through. She wouldn’t change if you paid her. “Fine, but can you at least not be so polite? Be indifferent.”

  “Indifferent works.” Nick nods.

  Simon looks confused. “But, I’m not indifferent. I’m stoked.”

  “Next time I’m paying for her to give him anal play.” Nick rubs his temples.

  I laugh and Simon sneers.

  The server brings us the single piece of paper with five items for breakfast. None of which sound appealing. I hate eating at places like this. I like IHOP.

  Simon orders, annoying me with his girlie order. Brandon’s is worse, but the real surprise wanker is Nick. His meal sounds like it belongs to Lana.

  Egg whites only?

  I give the server the most charming look I have and lay the country on thick. “Honey, is it possible to get some pancakes, bacon, eggs, and sausage?”

  She looks deep into my eyes, nodding. I don’t know if she even heard me. She leaves and Brandon scowls at me. “You’ll have a heart attack eating that.”

  I shrug. “I’d rather die happy than eat like a rabbit. I don’t eat like this every day. And I work out pretty hard.”

  “Soccer is all about endurance and everyone here knows this guy has tons.” Nick slaps my back.

  The server is back with coffee so I can’t whack him in the balls. “You guys here for the big contest of the bands?” She pours and smiles at us all. The whole chipper in the morning thing is creepy.

  I nod, certain I shouldn’t talk too much before I have my coffee. I get a lot of highs and lows in the morning.

  She points to a table of five incredibly sexy young ladies. “They are too.” She leaves, smiling too wide at the next table for 6:00 in the morning.

  “Look at the talent over there!” Nick’s eyebrows are permanently lifted.

  Simon makes a noise but it’s not a word.

  I sigh. “That’s the enemy, boys. We don’t shit where we eat. No girls from other bands.”

  “Says the guy fucking the only girl in our band. Screw you, Holland. I’m going to hump every one of those girls.” Nick says it too loud and one of them lifts her gaze to our table. She gives a wave.

  The boys wave back, even with Simon still making the weird noise.

  We are screwed.

  A guy in a sweater vest and dress pants, joins their table but doesn’t sit. He sees us and saunters over. “You must be here for the show too?”

  We nod.

  “I’m Bryce Coldwell.”

  Bryce? That name is from my dream—no worse—Lana’s visit.

  Of course, he fucking is.

  Of course, this is the guy who used to date Lana. He’s tall, built, rich, and smug as hell. I swear I’ve seen him before, TV maybe. His eyes light up. “Nick, shit! I didn’t even see you there. How are you?”

  Nick stands, shaking his hand casually and nods. “Good, Bryce. Those your Pussy Cat Dolls?”

  He glances back over his shoulder and nods. “That’s my entry.” He winks at Nick. “Remind me to tell you ALL about the auditions later.”

  Nick laughs. “Dirty bastard.” Bryce winks and walks off, waving at the rest of us.

  When he’s out of hearing range, Nick gives me a look. “We’re fucked. He’s a shark. He is the master shark and he just graduated from Yale so he will see us as natural enemies.”

  I don’t look back at their table. I don’t give a shit. “He hired strippers who can randomly sing. He’s going to get far, but America isn’t going to vote based entirely on who rides the pole the best.”

  Brandon stares, muttering, “I sort of wish we could test them out for that answer.”

  I laugh my ass off, it’s the best thing he’s said yet. We are all laughing when the server brings our breakfasts. Mine is perfect. Maybe the Hilton isn’t so bad after all.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Only Human

  Lana

  My shoes, bags, and clothes surround me. Nothing has been moved from how it was at Christmas. Nothing has changed in this closet, apart from me.

  I am different.

  I’m not suddenly indifferent to Jimmy Choos, but I care less about getting the new ones to top whatever ones my friends have. I’m done with outdoing everyone else with whatever ungettable get is on sale to the highest bidder. Or being the girl whose daddy proves he loves her the most with a last-minute trip to France to pick up a hot new designer’s secret projects.

  I’m done.

  “What are you doing, kid?”

  I glance up to see my dad strolling into the room, dressed for the TV appearance later, and shrug. “Just trying to imagine what it would all look like if she hadn’t died.”

  I don't mean to make his face drop or to hurt his feelings. It just is what I’m thinking about.

  He sits on my bed and looks in the closet. “It would look the same. She spoiled you more than I did. She was a terrible shopaholic and her fetish of all fetishes—shoes.” He chuckles and it reminds me of being a little kid.

  I nod, remembering some of her shoes being a fascination for me when I was little.

  “You ready for today?”

  My lips press together. The cold brush-off earlier from the exhausted James Holland is still making me uneasy.

  “You have it in the bag if you go into it for the right reasons.”

  His words strike a nerve, not a bad one though. I can’t help but analyze the comment for too long.

  “Lana?”

  I glance up, realizing he’s speaking.

  “A penny for your thoughts?” he asks, smiling wide.

  “I think this is the first time I’m going into something for the right reasons.” I blink, saving the image of the smile he has on his face. If I could just always see him that way for the rest of my life, I’d die happy. Or rather, I’d live happy.

  He nods. “See you at the office, kid,” and leaves me there.

  I download the photos from my camera onto a memory stick and leave the house. When I get to the Hilton, Leo’s room is the first one I go to. I knock and wait for him to answer. When he does, he looks rough.

 
“You hung over?”

  He shakes his head. “I think I have a bit of a head cold. Nothing serious. I just don’t want to give it to the rest of you.”

  I step back, reaching my hand out with the thumb drive.

  He takes it. “What’s this?”

  “The pictures. All of them. This is Grand Turk and every time we did anything. You asked me for them.”

  He looks confused or hurt, but nods. “I guess I don’t need them anymore.”

  It makes my heart tighten to see him so forlorn.

  But a smile builds slowly on his face. “I’m adding these to Instagram later. I might not need them but they are me—a photo gallery of the life I like living.”

  “See you downstairs? The party is tonight.”

  “We’ll see. My throat is pretty sore.” He nods. “I’m sleeping it off and taking a bunch of shit Este texted me to get when she saw my tweet about being sick.”

  I laugh and wave, walking away. “It works, trust me. Her dad is a little interesting I think, but it works. I’ll send Henry with my fave sick soup later.”

  He waves and closes the door.

  I head for the lobby, resisting the urge to go to James’ room. I have to force myself to see him as a teammate. Dad’s little speech is still digging around inside of me.

  When I get to the lobby, I’m stunned. It’s full—to the brim. Young talented musicians and sexy people, who probably can’t really sing that well, line the area. Heads turn and whispers start as I walk to where my four guys are standing. I guess going to James’ room would have been a waste.

  Bryce, ex jackass numero uno, gives me a sweet smile. His eyes roam my body. I fucking hate that. “Lana, how’s it going?” He leans in, kissing my cheek.

  I smile back, biting my tongue and my cheek.

  “I hear you’ll be part of the competition but not the contest.” His eyes are brimming with mockery.

  I shrug. “I just didn’t think I had what it takes to be an exec. Not really my thing.”

  He chuckles, grating on my nerves with his arrogance. I wave and walk to the guys, where James lifts his face up from his guitar case, taking my breath away with his smile.

  Did he get sexier or am I high?

  “Hey!” When he stands up straight, he looks awkwardly at me, like he wishes we were alone and able to talk. Normally, he’s pretty sure of himself so seeing him insecure and conflicted is sort of an aphrodisiac. I’m sure it’s wrong that I like seeing him sweat about us. It’s like biting him but better.

  God, this whole friendship thing is never going to work.

  I give my best attempt at nonchalance. “Hey!” The greeting is for all of them.

  “Hey.” Simon looks petrified and Brandon doesn’t smile when he looks at me and nods. Only Nick fits in, casually checking out the girls and enjoying himself.

  “You guys get some sleep?”

  They all nod.

  I lower my voice, almost whispering, “Good. The clothes I dropped off are the outfits for the show. We will have them hung and dated, so we match but not too much, but still each outfit is unique. Leo says this is a visual experience more so than an audio one. He says we need to be the talk of the town, as far as outfits go.”

  James doesn’t look impressed. “I think we should wear what makes us comfortable.”

  I roll my eyes. “Well, you aren’t here to think.”

  His jaw clenches and I realize my nerves are getting the better of me and that was a bitchy comment. The remark feels wrong now that it’s out there, hanging in the air around us. The other three guys give me a dirty look.

  I press my lips together, hoping he sees the apologetic look on my face.

  He doesn’t.

  The buses come and a sea of young people flows out the doors to the men directing us. All I can think about is the fact I hurt his feelings.

  On the bus he sits next to Nick as Simon and Brandon sit together.

  I’m odd man out.

  My cold, bitchy attitude has me being ostracized apparently.

  Whatever.

  I walk to a seat and slump down into it. Everyone is still staring at me. Bryce comes and sits next to me, laying his hand on my thigh and leaning into me, whispering, “I was hoping we could talk about how much you like it when I fuck you!” His hand slides up my thigh, brushing against my pussy. It makes me tingle, but it feels wrong—dirty.

  I smile softly, reaching down to grip his hand, squeezing and pulling it away from me. “I was faking.”

  His eyes glisten with pervy memories as he leans in, speaking close and softly. “You were not. You like coming for me. Remember when we were in that limo on the beach?”

  The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, but I pretend I don’t even see it as I shake my head. “No. I don’t. Now stop touching me, or I will tell everyone how much you like it when girls play with your ass.” He had begged me, but I had told him no.

  His smile grows cold. “Just like how you like it when people fuck your feet?”

  The comment instantly hurts inside of me.

  Could he be the guy?

  No.

  He’s amused and likes torturing me, but he couldn’t have been at my school.

  I swallow hard and smile past the agonizing blow he has dealt me. “Everyone has to have a hobby, Bryce. At least I don’t have to pay for mine!” I pull back, leaning into a window. I should have gotten Henry to drive me. I shouldn’t have exposed myself to the bus and the scum on it.

  So much for trying to fit in.

  “I’m just saying that you and me make a great couple. A power couple.”

  I shake my head, staring out at the palm trees we pass and trying to relax my brain, but he sits too close. He’s smelling me and rubbing his leg against mine, and at the same time pinning me against the window as I try to escape him. If I make a scene I’ll be the diva everyone thinks I am, and he’ll get the better of me. He’s just trying to shake me, but I’m not falling for that.

  James gets up and walks down the aisle. I force myself not to look at him; I know the begging stare that will be in my eyes if I do. He walks past us, and I feel the seat behind us move with his weight. He leans forward, whispering in my ear. “You okay?”

  I give a slight nod, but I don’t look back at him.

  He takes a breath and sighs, whispering to Bryce. “You touch her again, and I will not only break your fucking hands, but I’ll break your arms and legs. You see, rich boy, I’m not like you people. I have zero issue making a scene and acting out in public.” He pats his hand on Bryce’s shoulder and gets up and walks back to his seat.

  Nick looks back, smiling wide and winking at me.

  My face is flushed as Bryce’s leg moves away from mine, but it doesn’t stop him from muttering, “Can’t fight your own battles, Lana? You have to sic the attack dogs on me?”

  I shake my head. “That’s the problem with attack dogs, Bryce, rarely do you have control over the things they’ll do in defense of the people they love.”

  “You forget, you’re unlovable.” He chuckles and gets up from the chair, finding somewhere else to sit as we head for the auditorium.

  My eyes are glued to the back of the head of the guy who I may not entirely get, but I want in every way possible. He would never say anything so cruel to me.

  When we arrive, James stays in his seat. I still watch the back of his head, not wanting to move until he does. But he doesn’t. Finally, the bus is cleared and he looks back at me. I swallow hard and apologize, “I didn’t mean to say that shitty comment at the hotel. I’m sorry.”

  “I know you’re stressed, but being mean to the four of us isn’t going to get you anywhere. We are a team, not your minions.”

  “I know that. I swear.”

  He gets up and offers me his hand. I am trembling when I take it. He kisses the back of it and speaks with a sigh. “I’ll fucking kill him. I know you hate it when I say that, but I swear to God if he touches you again—“

  �
�How did you know he touched me?”

  His eyes harden. “I could tell. Now let’s go win this stupid fucking contest so we can start living our lives.”

  I step into him, pressing my chest against his. “I just want the two things separate, but I don’t want to wait to be with you. I don’t want to sit here and wonder where we stand.”

  “You don’t ever have to wonder where we stand, Lana.” He kisses my hand again and nods. “But that is music to my ears. I don’t want to wait either.” He doesn’t do anything else, just pulls me off the bus and walks with me, still holding my hand.

  When we get inside I am nervous. My hand starts sweating on his. He grips tighter, leaning into me. “There’s going to be you and me on that stage and no one else. Just look into my eyes while we perform. I swear, you won’t get lost.”

  I’m shaking but I know I have to do this.

  We file into the stands, all twenty teams. Leo isn’t there because he’s sick, but everyone knows he’s with us.

  My dad enters onto the stage and everyone claps like they’ve just seen Lochlan Barlow come out. Dad holds his hand up, silencing the room.

  “Welcome to The Next Mogul. We are excited about the show and about the possibility that the next great star is sitting in these stands. We don’t just mean the stars who perform, we also mean the unsung hero who helps make stars. The music executive’s life is a simple one—find the talent. We don’t get the credit we are due a lot of the time so we have to be able to be comfortable with being the man behind the curtain. It takes a very dedicated person to want a career as selfless as this one. We make the other people stars and sit back at the end of the day, satisfied for others. It’s not all glam and glitz. In fact, most days are spent quietly mulling over sounds and songs and paperwork.” It’s sort of the worst speech ever until he grins. “But then again, there are also those red-carpet affairs and the fame and success that come with being on top and that’s what this show is about.”

  The crowd cheers.

  He holds a hand out for a beautiful girl, Michelle Leander, the lead singer of a girl band called Pixie Stixs. They’re grunge pop, so of course she has pink hair to go with her stunning face. She waves her arms in the air as the crowd goes insane.