Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“What happened to finding nicer ways to voice your opinion?” Justin chided as he set his rhythm guitar on a nearby stand.
Justin Cuevas was the perfect front man. He was a tall, sexy Latino with olive skin, longish dark hair, and lots of ink, who thankfully appreciated the power of sex appeal. Justin could be gregarious and fun, but music came first with him. His poignant lyrics paired with a powerful voice and an innate ability to connect with Zero’s fans was a winning combination. He knew how to get people to move—and better still, he could make them feel. It didn’t hurt that his boyfriend, Gray, aka my godfather, was a Grammy-winning songwriter. But Justin was a force all his own.
The twinkle in his eyes was proof if I needed it that he was teasing me. Sort of. The truth was…I was born with a faulty filter. No kidding. It was a real phenomenon. I had a tendency to say exactly what I was thinking, which seemed to play well in a social media setting but not so well in real life. I promised to try, but diplomacy wasn’t my forte.
“Let me rephrase that. It was okay for practice, but—”
“That’s where you’re supposed to stop. No ‘buts.’ Now say one nice thing to counter your negativity. What d’ya got?” Tegan rounded his drum kit, pausing to pick up the stick I’d flung at him. He tapped it against his palm before moving toward me like an angry bear.
Tegan was four inches taller than my five eight and built like a solid brick wall. His heavily tattooed arms, muscular physique, and the scar running along his jawline added to his badass vibe, but the guy was a marshmallow on the inside. Especially around people he cared about.
“I wasn’t being negative, I was being honest. There’s a big difference,” I assured him haughtily. When he narrowed his gaze, I tried again. “Fine. You were adequate. Like an average hand job.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know what I mean. It’s like when you have a mad crush on a hot guy and you finally get him where you want him…in a dark corner of a noisy club. One thing leads to another, and even though you didn’t necessarily plan on letting him unzip your ridiculously tight jeans, the fact that he was able to push them over your ass makes you think the guy must have some sexy skills.” I paused for dramatic effect before continuing. “But he sucks. Except not literally, because it’s a hand job. A very boring one that unfortunately shows off some rather sorry technique. Weak grip, short strokes…you might get off, but sadly, it’s not as satisfying as you’d hoped.”
Tegan tugged a lock of my curly hair. “So you’re saying we sucked, eh?”
“If you’d sucked, it might have been better,” I quipped with a lewd tongue-in-cheek gesture.
Everyone busted up laughing. Except Ky.
“You’re hopeless, Char,” Johnny groused.
I shrugged, then set my laptop on the coffee table and stood, glancing sideways at our bassist just as he pushed his instrument behind his back and pulled out his cell. Ky paused to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear before typing a quick message and slipping his phone into his pocket. He caught my stare and smiled.
And just like that, I lost focus. My stomach flipped, my heart sputtered, and my vision went hazy. I panicked and started talking, forgetting all my self-imposed rules of decorum the second I opened my mouth.
“I am hopeless. Stress, exhaustion, and a bad case of sex deprivation are to blame. I should relax, get some sleep, and consider reactivating my Tindr account. Then again, the last time I swiped right things didn’t go well. Casual dating isn’t for me.” I opened my hands like a jazz dancer and continued in an animated voice. “Never trust a guy who won’t share guacamole but wants a sip of your margarita…and then hits on the waiter. Can’t say I blame him. The waiter was gorgeous. His nametag said ‘Alejandro.’ Swoon. Who wouldn’t want to fuck a guy named Alejandro?”
“Charlie…” The guys shared a wide-eyed look, but I couldn’t stop.
“Don’t ask me my date’s name. It started with an N. Ned or Nick or—geez, Nelson.” I put my hand over my mouth theatrically. “I wonder if I accidentally went out with the reviewer, demanded guac, denied him a sip of my margarita, and set him off. Maybe that’s why he gave Zero such a crappy write-up.”
“Whoa. Back up, Char.” Justin furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?”
I sighed, pointing at my computer. “It’s no big deal, but—”
“Let me see,” Tegan demanded as he slid onto the sofa and picked up my laptop. “Damn, this sucks. Why’d he bring up Declan?”
“Dec went solo. I heard he’s recording some new material, but I didn’t think he was close to releasing anything. This Nelson guy must have some connection to Dec…or whoever is representing him,” Johnny remarked.