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“Break out the fucking candles, Madds. You’ll never believe where I am right now.”
“I’m assuming your ass is at work where it’s supposed to be.”
“Nope,” I say, popping the p. “That call I had this morning, it was Lenny Davidson from Louder Records.”
“Wait. What?” she breathes. “That’s the label Demon’s Curse is under, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit,” she says with a heavy sigh. “Are you okay? Did he want to talk with you about Axel? I know it’s been two years, but I know how that shit tears you to pieces.”
“I mean, yeah. He brought up Axel a few too many times for comfort, but he was actually calling to offer me a job.”
“What?”
“That’s what I said, but apparently Ax was already putting things in motion before he died and had mentioned me enough that when they started to put a team together for a new band, my name was at the top of his list.”
“Holy fucking shit.”
“Yeah,” I say with disbelief. “That’s pretty much how I responded too.”
“So, it’s a marketing gig, then?”
“As far as I’m aware,” I say. “I have a meeting with him today to discuss all the ins and outs of the contract and hopefully have a chance to meet the band to see if I mesh well with them. Then assuming everything is as good as I think it will be, I’ll be going on tour with this band.”
There’s stunned silence on the other end of the phone, and by the time a slow smirk finally spreads across my face, Madds pulls herself together enough to respond. “That’s incredible,” she breathes. “Holy fuck. I’m struggling to wrap my head around everything. Okay, ummm . . . What about your current job?”
“It’s a piece of shit entry-level job that I’ll never really find growth in considering my lack of degree,” I lie, immediately feeling like a piece of shit for it. “It’s a no-brainer. And besides, if this doesn’t work out how I’m hoping, I’ll just head back home, claim I needed the day for a stomach virus, and be back at work first thing tomorrow.”
“Wait. Hold up,” she says. “What do you mean head back home? Where the hell are you?”
“Oh, haven’t I told you that part yet?” I ask with a laugh as the excitement begins to infect me, but hell, it’s the first time I’ve felt any kind of excitement in two long years. After college, Madds took a job in LA, and she’s been killing it ever since, so of course I’m going to find her while I’m here. But even if this job doesn’t work out for me, I needed this excitement more than I realized. I’ve only ever been in LA one time before, and that was for Axel’s show-stopping funeral, but this time, it’s for me. Maybe I could even visit his home and delve into the life he had here. Hell, I know Madds wouldn’t say no to accompanying me to the former home of Axel Stone. Hopefully it was left just as he always had it. Actually, I wonder what happened to all of his things. His home, cars, and expensive guitar collection. He had so many things he was so proud of, and now, they’re probably just sitting in some shitty Demon’s Curse memorial hall collecting dust.
“Uhhh no. Are you not in Michigan right now?”
“Not even close,” I say. “The label sent a private jet to come get me, and I’ve spent the last four hours sipping champagne and being waited on while I made the journey to LA!”
“L—FREAKING—A?” Madds squeals, probably way too loudly for her office building. “Holy fucking shit. Girl, why didn’t you start with that? We have to do something. How long are you going to be here?”
“I have no idea. If everything goes well with this meeting, I could be here indefinitely . . . I think. But if it doesn’t, then probably just the night.”
“Okay, well, for what it’s worth, I know you’re going to kill it at this meeting today. This is the most exciting thing ever, and you might even get to see Rock and Dylan and—” she cuts herself off before the name slips out of her mouth, and I’m grateful that she doesn’t linger on the almost slip. “Anyway, I think we should meet up tonight, you know, just in case walking in there is too much and you need time to chill afterward.”
“Absolutely.”
“What hotel are you staying at?”
“Is it bad I never actually asked?” I laugh. “Lenny said private jet, and I got in my car without a second thought.”
“Okay. Well text me when you know, and I can meet you there after work,” she says. “And Rae? You really are gonna kill this. You’re the best choice, and Lenny freaking Davidson would be a fool not to hire you on the spot.”
“Thanks, Madds.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says, and I can practically hear the way she rolls her eyes. “I have to get back to work before you get my ass fired. I’ll see you tonight, okay? Love you.”
“Love you too,” and with that, the line goes dead.
It’s a short twenty-minute drive from LAX to the hotel, and when the driver pulls up out front, all I can do is gape at the massive building. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s the picture of luxury, exclusive to only the highest caliber people—the one percenters, billionaires, socialites, and celebrities. People like Ezra Knight.
