The sun’s barely up and I've already put in a couple hours work. I'm sweaty, covered in dirt, and sporting a gash under my eye from an overeager mare. My mama was right, the new paint is pretty. High strung, but pretty. With Shep sitting beside me in the cab of the truck, I bypass the main house and head to my place to shower and change.

I don't have long before I need to be downtown. Jimmy called last night to tell me Stone Lockhart wanted to meet with me before they come to a decision. I hope like hell I'm not supposed to make some mind-blowing first impression. That's a lot of pressure to put on an asshole like me, especially in the mood I've been in. Jumping out of the truck I hold the door and wait for the dog to follow. We go to the mudroom door so that I can strip out of the filthy clothes and dusty boots there before tracking dirt through the house. Mama would kill me since it's her old friend Connie who comes and cleans the place for me. She doesn't like me making it too hard on her. Shep goes to the water bowl in the corner, makes a big enough mess for three dogs, and then flops down on his bed. Pissed my brother off to no end that Shep has abandoned his side now that I'm home again. Shep’s always been my dog though, even with me being gone all the time. My phone chirps as I’m striding through my living room in nothing but my boxer briefs and a layer or two of ranch dirt.

“What's up, Jimmy?” I ask, wrenching the water on in the shower.

“I'm on my way now. Should I pick you up at your parents’ place or yours? “

“Mine. I’m jumping in the shower now. I'll be ready.”

“Okay, just wanted to make sure.” He sounds anxious. Is he nervous about this? Should I be?

“You okay, Jim? Checking in on me? It’s the middle of the day—what kind of trouble can I get into?” I joke, knowing damn well I can get into all types of trouble no matter what time of day it is.

“Like that matters,” he scoffs. “Just be ready, I’ll beep.”

“See ya.”

“Bring your guitar just in case,” he says as I’m disconnecting. Just in case of what? I’m in no mood to be auditioning for anybody.

More pissed off than I probably should be, I step under the too-hot stream of water, gritting my teeth against the heat just long enough for it to rinse some of the grime from my body. Soaping up and rinsing, I turn the water to a more bearable temperature. Feeling nearly human, I squirt more shower gel into my hand, giving myself another washing. Head bent, water running over me, I try to let it ease some of the tension from my shoulders. The only good thing about being out on the ranch working all day is that I didn’t have a minute to think about how everything is up in the air. Now that I’m back here in the quiet of my house, there’s nothing but the shower cascading down around me to buffer out my thoughts, and they’re running wild with what-ifs. What if Hard Candy doesn’t sign me? What if nobody does? What if I can’t get this fucking album out on my own and I’m through? What if? Knowing that no good can come of that way of thinking, I roll my shoulders to try to relax some of that pent up tension. When that doesn’t work, I palm my cock, letting the water that trickles down my forearms and fingers act as a lubricant as I glide a hand over the head, fisting the tip. Up and over, around and down. Again and again, until I feel some of that tension dissipate, little by little as I get closer to my release. With the water still falling around me, I come with a grunt of pleasure. Sated and relaxed. It isn’t until I’m toweling off that I realize it was Addy Mae and her very real set of tits and pretty face I had been picturing in my mind as I came all over my shower wall. Well, fuck.

* * *

Jimmy Don and I walk into the office situated right in downtown Austin and are greeted by an older lady with blue hair and glasses straight out of the 1950’s. She glances at us over the top of them and presses a button on her phone, probably letting Addy know that we’re here.

“You must be Beau and Jimmy Don,” she greets warmly.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answer as Jimmy shifts his briefcase to his other hand to shake her hand.

“You must be Nelle. Addy speaks real highly of you, ma’am.”

Pleased by that, she smiles. “Well, that’s good because I’m mighty fond of her too. You boys can follow me this way.” Nelle leads the way down a short hall, stopping at a door with Addy’s name on it and knocking before pushing it open. Addy sits behind her desk laughing, a heavily tattooed man sitting on the edge of it talking animatedly.

“Sorry to disturb y’all, but you’ve got company.”

“You could never disturb me, Miss Nelle,” the man I know is Stone Lockhart says, making her preen.

I’ve never met him, but I did some research. He’s lead singer of the rock band Wrecked. They’ve won every award possible in the industry or damn near. They’ve had an amazing career so far. Even after his stint in rehab for what was rumored as a pretty serious drug addiction. Now though, he seems to have his shit together. They’re still topping the charts, selling out tours and have started their own label. Not too bad for a guy only a couple years older than me.

“Jimmy Don, Beau,” Addy says rising and coming around the front of her desk. Jimmy envelopes her in an easy hug, same as he did when we met for lunch. It makes me wonder just how well they know each other. Addy turns to me, a hand held out to shake. “Beau. Glad you could make it on such short notice.” She points at the angry cut under my eye, “Hope that doesn’t mean you found trouble after our talk.”

She’s going for tough and businesslike, and she probably would have succeeded if I hadn’t been picturing her while I came just an hour before. Now, I just see her with sexed up hair and bare tits. Probably not the smartest thing when the fate of my future rests in her hands. Hands I want all over me for real and not just in my fantasies. I’m not even sure where the hell this want has come from. I’m not that guy. I don’t lust after women. They lust after me, and I take what they have to offer and leave. Just ask Jenny. The thought makes bile rise in my throat. Now is not the time, dickhead. I shake off the thought and return my attention to the wet dream standing in front of me, waist-length hair in messy waves, a pencil skirt, and a denim shirt that looks like it came from a man’s closet. The thought pisses me off.

“Nope. No trouble.” I jerk my chin in her direction, “You doing the walk of shame? No time to go home, had to borrow one of your boyfriend’s shirts?” Addy doesn’t say anything, just narrows her eyes at me. Jimmy breaks the awkward silence with a nervous laugh.

“Stone, it’s so great to see you, man. It’s been awhile,” I hear him say, my eyes still locked on Addy’s frigid hazel eyes. Similar to my own but prettier. And filled with more hate.

She doesn’t break eye contact. “Stone, this peach is Beau McCrae, the man you wanted to meet.” Her drawl is thicker when she’s irritated. I’ll have to remember that. I tear my gaze from hers to offer a hand to Stone. He’s watching the two of us thoughtfully.

“Nice to meet you, Beau,” he says with a firm shake.

“Likewise.”

“Addy, you and Jimmy Don catch up a bit, I’m gonna take Beau to my office so we can talk without you two trying to kill each other.” Stone doesn’t sound upset about our little moment that Addy and I had … more curious that anything really. Jimmy gives me a pleading look and a “go get ‘em, tiger” thumbs up. Stone leads the way out of Addy’s office, down a couple to what I assume is his door.

“Come in, bro,” he says, welcoming me into the large room. Floor-to- ceiling windows flank the two desks facing each other, one masculine, the other feminine. Definitely a his-and-hers set up. Guitars and concert paraphernalia line the walls along with lyrics and sheet music, some of it drawn right on to the wall. In the corner is a seating area with four chairs and a coffee table and then tucked in the other corner of the room is what I’m almost certain is a tantra chair. I make a note not to sit on it and another to order one for my place. We walk to the circle of chairs and he indicates for me to sit. “You want a drink?” He reaches into a little fridge stashed out of the way.

“You got a beer in there?”

He lets out a deep laugh, rubbing a tattooed hand over the back of his equally tattooed neck. “Fuck, I wish. Have issues with control. I have none.” He shrugs and tosses me a water.

“Sometimes control is overrated,” I answer, twisting the baseball cap on my head backwards, leaning back to drink my water.

“Won’t get any argument from me there. My sponsor and my woman might argue the fuck out of that though.” Stone swigs from his own water, sitting in the seat opposite me. “So is it control issues or a broken heart that has you acting a fool all over the place?” All right then, it’s like that. All of a sudden this is feeling more like an interrogation.

“Neither.” I meet his eyes, my features schooled into a bored expression. He’s not fazed.

“No? So you’re just an asshole who doesn’t care about his career?” Stone isn’t pussyfooting around the subject. “I’ve been all three of those guys, bro. I just need to know which I’m dealing with with you so that I know if you’re worth the risk or not.” Leaning back he crosses his arms over his chest and waits on me to answer.

Is this dude for real? “I don’t think I’m any of those things. I’m just trying to live my life without someone dictating my every move.” I wipe my palms down my thighs in irritation, the soft denim pulling taut with each swipe.

“Trying to live your life or set it on fire?” His tone isn’t condescending, just questioning, as he reaches for a cigarette and a space age looking ashtray and lights up. I watch as the ashtray sucks in the smoke like a vacuum.

“Listen, Stone, I get that you think that I'm a risk, but I'm also a grown ass man. I haven’t always made the best choices, but I’m not a total fuckup.” The muscle in my jaw ticks. “The last few months haven’t been my best moments for reasons beyond my control.” His eyebrow disappears into his floppy hair. “Mostly beyond my control.”

Stone interrupts, “Beau, with all due respect, that’s bullshit. You’re the only one in control of you. I’m really sorry about your girl. That would be enough to push me over the fucking edge, believe you me. But don’t make excuses for your fuckups. You gotta own them if you’re gonna move past them. Trust me.” The man in front of me with his million and one tattoos, piercings in his nose and ears, smoke swirling around him like an apparition, he’s all rock star, but a real guy too, down to Earth. Seen shit I never have or will if his bio is anything to go by. But still a real guy. I can appreciate that. But it doesn’t mean I want to be his fucking best friend. I don’t want to lie on his fucking couch and pour my heart out to him. Like I told Addy, I need a label, not another mother.

“My fuckups aren’t anything to write home about.” I shrug. “I drink too much sometimes, and I fuck random chicks I have no intention of seeing again. I’m not out doing drugs.” I cringe. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Or hurting anyone. Not even myself really.”

“Just your career.”

He’s got me there.

“So you don’t have a problem?”

“Not even a little.” My voice doesn’t waver. My gaze doesn’t shift.

For a beat we’re silent. Just watching each other. Finally he nods in acceptance. “Can you try to not show up trashed at award shows and trust us to work on some good publicity to bury all this rag mag bullshit?”

I grimace. The award show was not my finest moment. I nod that I can. “What kind of publicity? I spent the last couple years being a puppet over at Glenn Co.; I won’t do that here.”

“We don’t want to control you. I know what it’s like to be with a label like that. To be their fuckboy. That won’t happen here.” He takes a drag of the cigarette pinched between his fingers. “Your music stands on its own merit. I want you to be able to share it with the world. We’ll help you in any way we can. We just won’t let you drag us down with you if that’s what you’re hellbent on doing.”

“Fair enough.”

Stone grins crookedly through a haze of smoke. “Good. Welcome to Hard Candy Records.”