Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“I wouldn’t be so fast to discredit Ms. Smith, Van,” Gregory replies carefully. “For starters, she’s already miles ahead of you, simply by making it to the studio on time.”
Van?
What the hell?
Is everyone in this band going to be completely gorgeous? Is that some kind of requirement for joining the band in the first place?
I take a second to look down at my outfit, frowning to myself. If I would’ve known that being hot was a requirement to be in the band, I definitely would’ve tried a lot harder when it came to my clothing choices. How am I supposed to take over as a lead singer for these guys when I’m currently the least good-looking musician in the room?
I squint to get a better look at him, taking in his dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, the way he seems annoyed at the fact that we’re breathing the same air. Van is staring back at me too, full lip slightly curled. He’s observing me more like he’s looking at a pile of yesterday’s trash, wondering if he should take it out before the smell gets too much worse.
“I’m Alyssa—” I start.
But Van cuts me off, already shaking his head. “I know who you are. I saw your songs on the charts, so I checked them out.” He takes a step closer to me. “So what? Were you Geesha’s assistant or something? Is that why she covered your so-called song?” He holds up his hands in air-quotes, still clutching the drumsticks. “Trying to give a hanger-on a chance?”
“That’s not what happened—”
“You’re clearly an amateur, Alyssa,” he continues. “No offense, but I don’t think you’re cut out to be a real musician. Not very many of you online-famous types can really hack it when it comes down to it. You just don’t have what it takes,” he sneers.
Excuse me? Did this asshole I just met five seconds ago try to tell me that I don’t have what it takes to make it in the music business?
Everything in front of me goes red. I take a step toward Van. Some distant part of me is screaming that I should take a moment to calm down before I say something I regret, but there’s just something about this arrogant S.O.B. that’s making me want to force him to eat his words just as fast as he’d spoken them to begin with.
“Funny,” I reply, my words coming out in a hiss. “You’re saying that I don’t have what it takes, and yet, you and I are standing in the exact same studio. If I don’t have what it takes, Van, what do you think that says about you?”
“Blimey!” Rhys chuckles. “That’s right, Alyssa. Tell him to fuck the fuck off.”
“Don’t get too full of yourself just yet, princess.” Van scoffs. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
“And you don’t know a damn thing about me,” I reply. “Because if you did, you’d know that I’m the furthest thing from a princess. You would know how hard I had to work to get here—”
“We all had to work hard, princess,” Van emphasizes, interrupting. “You’re not special.”
“My name isn’t ‘princess,’” I correct through gritted teeth.
“Hey, before this pair starts in with the fisticuffs,” Rhys says, as he places his shoulder halfway between Van and me. “Can you tell us what the plan is here, Gregory?”
“The plan is for you all to work together,” Gregory answers, thick eyebrows raising and a small smile appearing on his wide face. “Alyssa Smith is going to be the new lead singer of the band.”
“…What?” Van’s gaze narrows toward mine. “What the hell, Gregory? You’re going to make this fluke of a popstar the frontwoman for the band?”
“Oh come on, don’t be like that, Van dear,” Rhys replies, as he smiles down at me. “I for one would love a chance at getting behind you, Ms. Smith.”
“Christ, Rhys, come off it.” Cameron sighs, as he folds his arms across his chest. “Don’t you ever get tired of this schtick?”
“Who said anything about it being a schtick?” Rhys smirks.
“I’m not doing it, Gregory!” Van shouts, interrupting. “I’m not backing up someone who doesn’t know the first thing about—”
“If you don’t want to do it, I can always find someone else, Van,” Gregory replies, coolly. “And trust me, there are a million drummers out there, hungry and desperate, ready to take your place tomorrow. All I’d have to do is make the call.”
“…Fine.” Van backs down. “Fuck it. Whatever. It’s not like this isn’t just a temporary situation, anyway.”
“Right. A temporary situation,” Gregory says, before he turns toward me, offering me a playful wink.
Just then, something warms in my chest at the idea of Gregory Hanson having so much faith in my musical career, all of my dreams now seeming like they are only mere seconds away from coming true.