“So, what are we going to do about Crawley?”
Lyric, Terese, Melanie, and Stryder’s girlfriend, Misty, fell asleep as soon as the plane took off, so the guys and I decide to have a huddle session to discuss recent events while I ice my throbbing hand. We’re in a section of seats that face each other, and Derrick’s asking all the questions.
We call Derrick the dad of the group for this very reason. He’s the first person that wants to get to the bottom of what went down back there, resolve it, and restore peace in our lives.
The one thing that sets Wolf, the band, apart from most other rock groups out there is the fact that we actually get along. We’re family that respects each other. And we all play our own roles.
I know Derrick’s worried. Hell, we all are. Not that we particularly liked Crawley, but he did serve a purpose, even when he was being an asshole.
“Not sure.” I remove the burning ice from my hand and peer down at it. My skin is a palette of blues, red, and greens. A memento of a well-executed beatdown. “I have a call with the label in the morning. I sent Presley a text and gave her the short version of the story.”
Presley is our label rep at Wicked Records and yet another person who can’t stand Crawley’s ass. She was more than happy at the news that the dick was on a one-way trip back to the label. There, he’ll have to answer to the higher-ups who have already promised me he’s out of a job.
Stryder leans in to check out my hand, his long, blond hair a wild and tangled mess falling over his shoulder. Stryder is our California beach bum. Always chill. Never argumentative. And completely obsessed with his girlfriend. His life revolves around music, Misty, and the beach. Traveling with the band keeps him away from the ocean more than he’d like, but the sacrifice is worth it. Besides, he’s able to steal enough beach time when we travel—enough to satisfy him, at least.
“Those were some mean throws, dude,” he says. “I thought you were aiming to kill him.”
“I should have. That fucker had it coming. Crawley got his warning, and he continued to fuck with Lyric. I wasn’t putting up with it. I’m more than happy to deal with the consequences.”
“You could have just fired him,” Hedge cuts in, surprising me. Hedge is normally the first one to have my back in a fight. The reckless one who’d rather ask for forgiveness than ask permission. And his bad behavior is almost always accompanied by a bottle of booze.
“Hopefully you don’t get stuck with more PR drama,” he warns.
I turn away, knowing he’s right but too pissed off to care. “So what if I do? It’ll do wonders for my badass image.”
Hedge snorts. “Good plan. Everyone knows you’ve gone soft with Lyric around.”
I shoot him a glare, although his words don’t actually make me angry. I used to like that Lyric made me soft. She made me hard when it mattered. Mostly, she just made me happy. I hate what our relationship has become. The tension, the anger, the fighting. That’s not us.
But she left me with no choice. I’ll keep her close because I’m still hoping she decides to come clean, but until she does, things won’t be the same. Whatever is eating her up is affecting more than just her. And while I’ve never been one to push Lyric, this problem with her mom isn’t just about her anymore. Not after she showed up on my bus with Crawley.
“What was Destiny Lane doing on our bus, anyway? Does Lyric know?” Lorraine asks as she takes the ice from me and wraps a napkin around it. “Here. Keep icing it. We need your hand to work.”
I give her a tight smile and lean back in my seat. Her question reminds me why Lyric and I are miles apart right now.
“Nah, Lyric doesn’t know. Destiny’s a piece of work, though. They don’t get along very well, but I don’t know the whole story. I’m sure she was there to see Lyric. Maybe I should have made Crawley talk before I fed him my fist for dinner. I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.”
Stryder chuckles. “You realize he’s going to retaliate, right? With whatever dickhead scheme he can come up with.”
I shrug. “There’s nothing he can do to hurt me worse than when he fucks with Lyric. I don’t know why, but he’s got a problem with her. Had a problem with her before she even joined the tour. Who knows; maybe he and her mom go way back.”
Lorraine is deep in thought. “You think Destiny is planning some shit with Crawley? She wouldn’t do anything to hurt Lyric, though, right? She’s her daughter.”
I’m stumped. It doesn’t seem like Destiny has any respect for Lyric at all, and Lyric clearly just wants to stay away from her. I guess I won’t understand completely until Lyric decides to tell me.
“I hope not,” is all I can say in response. “It’s all good, guys. I’ll talk to the label tomorrow. They’ll have a backup on hand if we can’t find a manager right away. We’ve done this without a manager before. We’ll be fine.”
I stand up, ignoring their rebuttals about us being a bigger deal now, stretch, and make my way back down the aisle until I reach Lyric. She’s sprawled out across a few seats, sleeping peacefully. I take a seat across the aisle and watch her.
Her wavy brown hair is knotted, a tousled lock drooping over one eye. Her mouth is parted, her soft breaths blowing on the strands of hair that aren’t stuck to her lips. I chuckle. I know I’m supposed to be pissed at her right now, but Lyric has always owned every bit of my heart. No matter what happens, she always will.
It’s five in the morning when we step off the plane in Miami and load into a group of vans to head to the house. When I awoke from my catnap and couldn’t find Lyric, Derrick told me she’d already deplaned and stuffed herself into a loaded van with Melanie. The next time I’ll see her will be at the house. That doesn’t sit right with me at all, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.
I’m watching her van drive off when Hedge slaps a hand on my back and nudges me toward our ride. “Get in, Romeo. You two will work it out.”
Shaking him off with a huff, I climb into the van and take a seat in the back row to stew. I didn’t think this far in advance when I was angry as hell last night. One entire week of pushing Lyric away is going to get old fast.
Then again, so will her secrets.
Thirty minutes later, our driver pulls through the gold-accented wrought iron gate of our vacation home, I take in the badass setup. The Mediterranean mansion is insane. Tucked away in a high-end residential neighborhood of Coral Gables in Miami-Dade County, every inch of it is secure and private. The pad is big enough to house the entire 30-person crew. Not everyone decided to come, but the core group is here or arriving soon: the band, my merch team, and some of the techs and roadies.
Just the sight of the place gives everyone a second wind. It’s chaos as everyone explores the house and calls dibs on their rooms. Derrick and I have already claimed ours—a master bedroom and guest bedroom on the main floor.
The kitchen has been stocked with food and drinks, and the guys waste no time distributing shots as everyone funnels back downstairs. I join in for a couple of drinks but then sneak away the first opportunity I get to find Lyric. I haven’t seen her since before I fell asleep on the plane, and now I’m beginning to worry. Not that I think she’s in trouble, but because maybe I played the asshole card a little too strong.
After searching every floor of the damn house, I stop in the kitchen where Melanie is cutting limes. She looks up, recognizes my frustrations, and then looks back down with an expectant half-smile on her face. Suddenly, I have a sick feeling in my stomach.
“Where is she?”
Her eyebrows raise. “Come again?”
My jaw tenses and I can feel my face flinching with annoyance as heat bubbles in my chest. “Tell me, Mel, or you’ll find yourself without a fucking bed tonight.”
Melanie rolls her eyes. “Calm down, Wolfman. Lyric’s a big girl. I’m sure you’ll see her later.”
“Where is she?” I try again, somehow containing the pending explosion that’s brewing in my chest. Time stretches, and when she’s silent for a second too long, my eyes search the room for Terese. My last hope. I step around the island and close the distance between us.
Derrick is on my tail and steps between Terese and me like he’s afraid I’m going to lunge at her or something. “Dude,” he says before I can speak, “it’s been a long night. You’ll see Lyric later. Just get some rest.”
Fuck that. I let out a breath through my nose and twist my neck until it releases a satisfying crack. Maybe I should just let this go tonight, but I can’t. I need her, and I know I’m not going to get what I want by throwing around my rage. “Just tell me where she is. Is she okay?”
Terese frowns, her brows bent toward the center. I know she can see the plea in my eyes, as if the desperation in my voice wasn’t enough. “I can’t. But she’s okay, Wolf.”
Everyone in the room is silent, staring at me like I couldn’t fire them all. The pit in my stomach widens, and I realize I’m all alone in this. How did this happen? How the fuck did I become the bad guy?
With a flippant wave of my hand, I turn from my crew. I’m already walking out the door when Terese calls after me, but I don’t stop to listen. I fly outside and stomp toward the minivan that held Lyric earlier. We’ve hired a company to have transportation on standby at the mansion for our use. I wanted everyone to be comfortable and free to roam about safely. There are sedans, vans, and SUVs at the ready.
“Where to, sir?” asks the driver.
Rex climbs in beside me, shutting the door while I reach for my phone. “You tell me.”