For Love or Money (19 page)

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.”

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.

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 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 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 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 don’t
match too much, but still wear unique outfits. 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 on mine but
pinning me in the window. 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 watch the back of his head still, 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, holding my hand
still.

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.

Nick
leans forward, smirking. I know what the look says so I put my hand up in his
face. “I’m choosing to ignore that.”