URGENT (Book 2 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 26: Bad Girls Punch Rock Stars

Mac

About an hour into the bus ride, I'm deep into some new lyrics—doing what my therapist says and trying to work out my conflicted feelings with songwriting—when Dawes wanders down the tour bus aisle. I ease my lyric book closed and shove it underneath me as he claims the other end of the couch. We smirk at each other.

I know that Adam—and Trace—both think Dawes is a conscienceless asshole, and want him gone. I'm a bit more pragmatic. If we want to do what we do—live for the music and our passion—then people like Dawes have to do what they do—take care of the business that we artists don't want to know about.

They think Dawes is despicable, but I think he's just a slightly less noble Riley twenty years on. A more jaded secret-keeper than Riley, who lost his code along the way. The same black spiky hair. The same unreadable set to their mouths. The difference is in the eyes. Riley has a kind, mischievous spark. Dawes' eyes calculate coldly.

But maybe I think these things because I'm just as bad as Dawes. Don't they say, like attracts like?

I'm not sure. I just know, me and Dawes, we can deal.

After a long moment of sharking each other with dark looks, Dawes says, "You gonna keep Heartley, this time?"

I lift one shoulder. "I would be a fool not to."

"Yeah," he grins, "but we both know you are the Queen of Stupid Shit." He makes a choking gesture at his throat. I watch him calmly, and I feel nothing. I have triggers, but Dawes's bullshit is not one of them. I smile. I won't give him the satisfaction of anything else.

"Not this time."

We sit in silence for a couple minutes.

"He wants to push me out," Dawes says abruptly. "You with him on that?"

"Probably," I confess. "Nothing personal. Just...you know. Adam is nice. And a fucking good lay." And a guy I could stay with. And my baby-daddy. But you don't need to know that shit, Dawsie.

Dawes nods amiably. Then he pulls out his phone. He thumbs a rapid series. My phone pings with several alerts.

"Check these tracks I just sent you. DevBlue is the one. The fit for your songwriting style. You love Soundcrush...I get it. But if they love you half as much, then they won't mind giving you a little room to move, will they?" Half of his mouth curls up. "And remember who looks out for your career, MacKenna. Because it's not Trace. Or Leed. Or even Adam."

"Get the fuck on, Dawes, I'm tryna write a song," I smile genially.

He pushes off the couch. "Do yourself a favor, Mac. Listen, and then call DevBlu."

I look at my phone. Dawes has sent me three tracks and Dev's contact information.

I don't need the tracks. The truth is—I've already checked DevBlu out—but not for professional reasons. I Googled him, and looked at every picture of him I could find—all the ones with piercings and all the ones without. At first, his piercings made my heart beat fast and my skin prickle. But I was on a mission to desensitize myself to his appearance.

I didn't like being caught off guard like that. I can't be head trippin' every time DevBlu blips up on my radar. He's signed to the same label as Soundcrush. It's highly likely I might run into him again, and I'll be damned if it will send me into another flashback.

I studied Dev's pictures for days—until I felt nothing about his piercings. He actually looks nothing like the choke fucker, so that helped me get past the piercings more easily.