My head was still stuffed full of Celia-fueled fantasies as I walked the six blocks over to the address that August had texted to me. It was a gorgeous late spring day in New York, one of those rare days where the breeze carries a whiff of lilac from some hidden back garden instead of the subway exhaust and the baked in scent of urine-soaked sidewalks.

The memory of Celia's smile as she gazed into the mirror with me, pleased as punch about my transformation at her hands was more than enough to dispel the lingering weirdness of having my head shorn like a sheep. The lilac-scented breeze felt odd whispering past my exposed ears and it was almost a fucking sensual experience because of whose had had exposed them.

Fuck. I wanted to call her. Right now. My fingers itched to dial her at work, just to hear her laugh. Would she still give me the same epic levels of shit now? I hoped what we'd done last night wouldn't change that. I liked her mouth. I like a lot of things about her mouth.

On the road I'd never had to worry about the morning after, because I was always leaving. That was the expectation and none of the chicks who'd shared my bed had actually wanted more than just a few orgasms at the hand of the guitarist from Wrecked. I'm not the star of the show and it suited me just fine. No need to complicate things.

But I had the feeling that Celia — classy, mouthy Celia — wasn't going to be down with this being a one-time thing.

And to my surprise I found that suited me just fine.

I just hoped she wouldn't turn all love sick and weird after we'd...well fucked wasn't exactly the right word. My nearly twelve-hour case of blue balls could attest to that. But watching her come...yeah, that was not an image that was going to leave my head any time soon. The way she threw her head back and went still and silent, like she was afraid she would shatter, kept playing over and over in my brain. Next time — and there would be a next time, I would make sure of it — I wouldn't let her stay silent. Next time I'd make her scream.

The sound of shouting broke in through those pleasant thoughts. I shook my head and paused with my finger on the buzzer of the low gray building in front of me. The shouts sounded like Jules' voice and he sounded pissed.

The security guard buzzed me in just in time for me to see Jules go storming past the doorway with August in hot pursuit. I caught a glimpse of Niall in a corner, looking like he wanted to be absorbed into the floorboards and then behind him...

"Hudson?" I asked, befuddled to see him, "It's Hudson, right?"

"Hey there," Hudson drawled, looking downright uncomfortable even as he leaped up from his chair to shake my hand. "Sorry about the drama," he said in an indeterminate accent that could only be described as ‘California-Southern.’ "I had no idea it'd be an issue."

"What drama?" I asked, turning to Niall. "What'd I miss?"

Niall glanced at me. "Nice hair, mate," he said. "You look less like a serial killer." Then he shot an apologetic smile to Hudson. "Seems our manager's been making promises without letting us know."

"Yeah," Hudson jumped in. "She said you guys were into it. So I signed on because fuck yeah I want to sing with Wrecked..."

"Wreckage," I corrected.

"Yeah," he grinned. "That too. Anyway, I had no idea you guys didn't know I was coming on right away. Nice hair by the way. Diggin' the clean cut vibe."

Niall's mouth twitched. "August booked us studio time," he said, clearly changing the subject away from my hair.

"What?" I exploded. "We haven't even rehearsed together yet!"

Hudson pointed to the back of the building. Somewhere on the other side of a low partition came more shouting. "Yeah, that's what Julian..."

"Call him Jules," I warned. "Otherwise you're gonna have a time."

"Yeah, see now shit like that is why I'm sorry we're meeting for real like this," Hudson groaned. "We should have had a fucking beer first." He looked at me imploringly and I was again reminded of Jules calling him a Golden Retriever last night. Those were puppy dog eyes for sure and the business-minded side of me could see the girls eating that shit up. "I'm sorry man, I get excited and I just jump into shit without thinking. It's a thing I have."

"Yeah, well, Jules was a cunt," Niall said stiffly.

"What'd he do?" I asked, straining my ears to catch the distant sound of shouting. They were still at each other's throats. Jesus, what had I missed in my Celia haze?

"He went off," Niall shrugged. "Called August a meddling, pushy cow."

"Oof," I grunted, shaking my head.

"Don't feel too bad for him. I think she can give as good as she gets." He turned to Hudson. "What did she call him again?" he asked with a devilish grin.

Hudson held up his fingers, ticking them off one by one as he said, "A spineless, shit-eating, sycophant with bad teeth."

I burst out laughing. "I've never noticed a problem with his teeth." I turned in the direction of the sound of a slammed door. "Think he'll come around?"

"Don't you remember?" Niall prodded. "He did this when I joined."

I blinked in surprise. "No, I don't."

Niall laughed. "Yeah you wouldn't notice something like that unless it smacked you n the face. He definitely was pissed. Said you two didn't need some overeducated pouf in the band."

I winced. I definitely didn't remember that, but then again I always brain-dumped the bad stuff and clung to the good stuff. It was part of my DNA to ignore the bad shit. It's the only way I'd let things with Killian get so out of hand. "Oi mate," I said. "Sorry bout that. He can be a real cunt."

"He did it with Killian too," Niall reminded me. "When he joined on."

"Yeah well, in the end he was right about that."

"He doesn't like change," Niall said. "And August is..."

"Changing everything," I finished. "Everything is changing, and really fast too." My mind flashed back to Celia.

A door slammed and suddenly Jules reappeared. He stormed his way over to a chair where he sat down without a word and started flicking through his phone. His knee bounced so fast it practically vibrated.

August swept past him without a second glance. She glided up to the three of us with a beatific smile on her face. "So we've sorted out the schedule a little better," she said. I glanced over at Jules who was fairly vibrating with rage. In contrast, August seemed as cool as a cucumber. "I've already talked to the building manager about booking this rehearsal space," she gestured at the cavernous empty warehouse around us, "for an extra two weeks so you have more time to get comfortable with the new line-up." She flashed a reassuring smile at Hudson who grinned back eagerly. "And as for studio time." She paused and her eyes darted to Jules who snapped up from his phone to glare at her. It looked like she was barely suppressing the urge to stick out her tongue at him. "I can postpone that until we feel more confident about a new album." She smiled tightly, brushing a hand over her wild red hair. "That sound good, boys?"

I looked at Niall who was frowning and Hudson who was smiling. "Fine with me," I shrugged. It seemed pretty clear August was going to drag us into the limelight the second she felt we were ready, never mind what we thought.

"Fine with me," Niall grumbled.

She raised her eyebrows at Hudson who nodded quickly, then clapped her hands together, not even bothering to consult Jules. "Everybody is happy then, great!" she singsonged, glaring at Jules who snapped back to ignoring her the second she glanced his way. "Great," she hissed. "So now that we've figured that out..." she pulled her phone out of her tight brown skirt and shook her head. "You know what boys? I don't give a fuck that it's only eleven. You've driven me to drink." She looked back at Jules. "Hey! Grumpy Magoo! You're buying!"

Jules pouted just like a toddler. "Like fuck I am," he snarled, lifting the two-finger salute.

"Jules!" I barked. "You got what you wanted, yeah? So stop being a petty cunt."

"I think we could all use a drink," Hudson drawled.

Jules stomped to his feet. "Fuck all of you," he announced grandly, but started walking to the door anyway and I knew we had him. "Nice hair, mate," he sniffed at me. "You look like a prick. And oi, Hudson!"

"Yeah dude?" Hudson stood there warily, his fist balled at his side. He was huge and jacked in the way only Americans seemed to be, and beside him, Jules looked tiny. But I'd seen my friend land bigger guys than this flat in their asses. My friend was a fighter and he didn't believe in fighting fair.

I took a step forward, ready to break it up before it started, but Jules only smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome to the fucking band, mate."