Page 3 of Rebel

“Chase?” I guess with a grin, making him laugh.

“Yep, one too many crazy one-night stands who kept stealing from us or live-streaming, so management made it a rule. No drugs. None at all. That’s a band rule.”

“I don’t use.” I shrug.

We stop on the second floor, and he gestures at three closed wooden doors.

“Good. These are our rooms in case you need us.” He coughs and speeds up. “We do party, but no scandals or we lose bonuses. I think that’s about it. Oh, here is your room.” He opens the plain wooden door and sweeps inside.

I follow after him, wondering if this is where she slept—the singer who came before me.

There’s a gray upholstered bed pushed against the back white wall and two bland gray side tables with lamps on either side of it.

I see two doors, and Trav nods to them. “Bathroom, so don’t worry, you don’t have to share with us. Kolt is a mirror hog.” He smirks. “And a closet.”

Wandering into the room, I drop my bag on the unmade bed and move to the windows that take up the entire left wall from floor to ceiling. A small, circular balcony outside looks out across the city. For a moment, agony tears through me, so I turn away and swallow it down.

I can’t afford to break.

Not now, not here, not with them.

“I guess I’ll let you get settled. Just holler if you need anything. We’ve set up a meeting for tonight with our label to sign all the boring paperwork, and they will go through everything. You’ll be thrown into the deep end. Our tour was rescheduled for this year, and you only have a few months to prepare.”

“Not a problem.” I know all this already, but I don’t tell him.

I don’t tell him I don’t plan to be here that long, but I have to keep up appearances.

“Okay then.” He smiles softly at me, so warm and welcoming. “I’m glad you’re here, Beck. Remember, you are one of us now.”

“Thanks, Trav, I mean it.” I look around, and when I glance back, the door is shut and he’s gone. My shoulders drop, and I blow out a breath, looking at the room with my hands on my hips.

“Well, I made it, Terrie. What do I do now?” I grumble.

Pulling my hair tie from my wrist, I wind my long blonde hair up into a messy bun and take off my jacket, tossing it onto the bed and unzipping my bag. I might as well get unpacked.

My hand lingers on the box inside the bag. I look for a place to hide it. I don’t know if they will come in here, but I can’t trust that they won’t snoop, especially Chase, so I explore the bathroom before opening the closet. There’s a shallow shelf running along the top with spare bedding and towels, so I shove them aside and press up on my tiptoes, carefully sliding the box to the back and covering it again. Dropping back down, I grab bunches of clothes and start to hang them.

While I do, my mind wanders to the person who lived in the room before me—the one no one talks about and the reason they are on a deadline.

There’s nothing here. It’s bare, clean, and repainted.

I’m almost sad not to have that connection, but I remind myself I don’t need it. I need to focus on working, but as I unpack my one measly bag, I spot something.

Stepping closer to the back of the walk-in closet, I can’t help but smile. Carved into the door is a slanted smiley face. Swallowing, I reach up and caress the carving, wondering if she felt as alone and unsure as I do.

I wonder if they were as kind to her.

I wonder if she sat here, pouring her dreams into lyrics.

I wonder if this is where it happened.

Closing the door on the past, I turn to face my future and the three men who are waiting there.

THREE

“I’m just saying,” Chase grumbles as he lines up his shot. I watch his ball sink into the pocket and smirk. Groaning, he straightens from the pool table and grabs his beer, gripping the neck hard as he glares at the pool cue like it’s the reason he’s losing.

Chase Reed has always been a sore loser and a bit of an asshole, like now.