on the table. “Okay, this shit stops now.” He tossed his napkin on his plate. “Sit the fuck down. We’re having a meeting.”
Pete sat, but he gave off the attitude of a rebellious teenager.
“Whether you like quinoa or bowling isn’t the point. The point is that we’re going to blow ourselves up if we don’t get our shit together. We
are
partying too hard.”
“Fine, I won’t party so hard, but I don’t have to do what she tells me to.”
Emmie and Slater had incredulous looks on their faces, like they couldn’t believe this was their friend.
“You’re right,” Violet said. “You don’t.” Everyone watched her. “I have no power over you. If you want my help, great. Happy to do what I can for you. If you don’t . . . frankly, the success or failure of this band has no effect on me.” She shrugged.
“The success or failure of this band hasn’t got dick to do with a pile of steaming horseshit,” Pete said. “Or your stupid ass herbal pills that’ll just make my piss stink.”
“The steaming pile of horseshit is quinoa. And since you’ve got sound check in an hour, I figured it’d be the best source of energy for you guys. Unlike that slice of pizza, quinoa’s a perfect protein, rich with iron and lysine and amino acids. You’ll get—”
“A good shit,” Ben said.
She laughed. “
That
you can count on. While this,” she said, pointing to the pizza box, “is made of white flour, salt, and fat. It’ll make you lethargic. Which of these is going to give you the energy to perform tonight?”
“There’s nothing wrong with our performances,” Pete said.
“Let me ask you something. What do you want?” Her gaze moved around the table, stopping on each one of the band members.
No one responded. She waited.
Slater cleared his throat, wiped his mouth with the napkin. “I want to make great music.”
Violet smiled at him, appreciating his total willingness to make things work with her. “Great, because you already do. What else do you want?”
He looked to Emmie. “I want my girl to feel safe. I want her happy.”
A knot formed in Violet’s throat. God, the way Slater looked at Emmie. The way he constantly needed to touch her. She couldn’t even imagine having that kind of intense, all-consuming love. To be the center of someone’s world? To be wanted so fiercely?
She used to wonder if she was capable of it, but now? After being around these two, so crazy passionate for each other?
She absolutely yearned for it.
Derek brushed hair off her shoulder. “You okay?”
She nodded, not wanting them to see her lose her composure. “Well, Slater.” Her voice came out funny, so she cleared her throat. “You’re a lucky man. Seems you’ve got everything you want.” She turned to Derek. “What do you want?”
“Since I’m not whipped like that sorry sumbitch, I’ll tell it like it is. I want to go gold. By the end of this tour, I want to go gold.”
“Fuckin’ A, man.” Pete slapped the table so hard the lemonade sloshed in the glasses.
“And then what? After this album goes gold, then what?”
“Then it goes platinum. And then double platinum.” Derek smiled.
“And after that? Once this album has run its course?”
“Then we do it again with another one.”
“So that’s really all you want out of life? To sell records?”
He thumbed his lower lip, looking a little uncomfortable. He stared unseeing at his plate. His gaze swung up to hers abruptly, igniting sparklers in her chest. “Respect.” He spoke quietly, making her feel as if they were the only two in the room. “I want to know I’m good.” He swallowed. “Really good.”
She couldn’t believe this intensely proud man hadopened up to her. Her heart expanded, and she put all the warmth she felt for him into her smile. “Thank you.”
The way he held her gaze so intensely . . . God, it just thrilled and unnerved her. It wasn’t just his world that was foreign to her, it was
him
,
Pete sat, but he gave off the attitude of a rebellious teenager.
“Whether you like quinoa or bowling isn’t the point. The point is that we’re going to blow ourselves up if we don’t get our shit together. We
are
partying too hard.”
“Fine, I won’t party so hard, but I don’t have to do what she tells me to.”
Emmie and Slater had incredulous looks on their faces, like they couldn’t believe this was their friend.
“You’re right,” Violet said. “You don’t.” Everyone watched her. “I have no power over you. If you want my help, great. Happy to do what I can for you. If you don’t . . . frankly, the success or failure of this band has no effect on me.” She shrugged.
“The success or failure of this band hasn’t got dick to do with a pile of steaming horseshit,” Pete said. “Or your stupid ass herbal pills that’ll just make my piss stink.”
“The steaming pile of horseshit is quinoa. And since you’ve got sound check in an hour, I figured it’d be the best source of energy for you guys. Unlike that slice of pizza, quinoa’s a perfect protein, rich with iron and lysine and amino acids. You’ll get—”
“A good shit,” Ben said.
She laughed. “
That
you can count on. While this,” she said, pointing to the pizza box, “is made of white flour, salt, and fat. It’ll make you lethargic. Which of these is going to give you the energy to perform tonight?”
“There’s nothing wrong with our performances,” Pete said.
“Let me ask you something. What do you want?” Her gaze moved around the table, stopping on each one of the band members.
No one responded. She waited.
Slater cleared his throat, wiped his mouth with the napkin. “I want to make great music.”
Violet smiled at him, appreciating his total willingness to make things work with her. “Great, because you already do. What else do you want?”
He looked to Emmie. “I want my girl to feel safe. I want her happy.”
A knot formed in Violet’s throat. God, the way Slater looked at Emmie. The way he constantly needed to touch her. She couldn’t even imagine having that kind of intense, all-consuming love. To be the center of someone’s world? To be wanted so fiercely?
She used to wonder if she was capable of it, but now? After being around these two, so crazy passionate for each other?
She absolutely yearned for it.
Derek brushed hair off her shoulder. “You okay?”
She nodded, not wanting them to see her lose her composure. “Well, Slater.” Her voice came out funny, so she cleared her throat. “You’re a lucky man. Seems you’ve got everything you want.” She turned to Derek. “What do you want?”
“Since I’m not whipped like that sorry sumbitch, I’ll tell it like it is. I want to go gold. By the end of this tour, I want to go gold.”
“Fuckin’ A, man.” Pete slapped the table so hard the lemonade sloshed in the glasses.
“And then what? After this album goes gold, then what?”
“Then it goes platinum. And then double platinum.” Derek smiled.
“And after that? Once this album has run its course?”
“Then we do it again with another one.”
“So that’s really all you want out of life? To sell records?”
He thumbed his lower lip, looking a little uncomfortable. He stared unseeing at his plate. His gaze swung up to hers abruptly, igniting sparklers in her chest. “Respect.” He spoke quietly, making her feel as if they were the only two in the room. “I want to know I’m good.” He swallowed. “Really good.”
She couldn’t believe this intensely proud man hadopened up to her. Her heart expanded, and she put all the warmth she felt for him into her smile. “Thank you.”
The way he held her gaze so intensely . . . God, it just thrilled and unnerved her. It wasn’t just his world that was foreign to her, it was
him
,
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