“Sure looks like you’re proud of whatever it was you didn’t do.” A snort filtered from his nose. “When are you going to realize you don’t have to be miserable, Sebastian? You spend so much time worrying about your brother. About the band. Being your agent, I’m going to be the first one to tell you that’s important. But as your friend, I’m going to tell you it’s about time you understood you don’t have to sacrifice one life for the other.”
Sarcasm dripped from my soured tongue. “What? You think I can have my cake and eat it too? Maybe you got lucky, man. Got it all. But my life doesn’t work out that way. I have too much shit going on…cause too much shit to go down in my life.” My tone turned incredulous. “And I thought you told me to keep my dick in my pants?”
Now the asshole sounded like he was encouraging me to go for it.
His laughter was hearty, good-natured, and he smiled a wry smile. “Like that was going to happen any more than you staying out of trouble.”
This time it was my turn to laugh. “Whatever, man.”
Anthony grinned. “And for the record, I’m a suit.”
The driver pulled to the curb in front of a large building that was probably fourteen or fifteen stories encased in glass. At least ten steps ran along its façade, leading to the smooth glass front doors, the professional building drawing that lump right back to my throat.
“You ready to put this all behind you, Baz?”
Anthony’s question was formed with encouragement, with a warning, basically telling me what happened today in the eighth floor conference room was up to me, the end result held in the palm of my hands.
“Ready as I’m ever gonna be.”
“Let’s do this, then.”
Anthony climbed from his side of the car, and I followed, stepping out onto the wide sidewalk that coursed along the front of the building, meshing with the concrete walkway that led to the steps.
High noon. The California sun stood proud, today the sky burning blue, with only a faint hue of the typical hazy gray of smog that forever hugged the city.
I cringed when I heard the voices yelling for me from off to the right, a rapid fire of more bullshit thrown my way.
“Sebastian Stone! Can you tell me where Sunder has been hiding?”
“Sebastian…what is the nature of your meeting this afternoon?”
“Is it true Sunder is breaking up? Will tonight’s show be your last?”
“Mr. Stone, reports say you reconciled with Hailey Marx and have spent the last six weeks at her vacation home in Greece. Can you confirm?”
My mind had been too wrapped up in Shea and this meeting to have been prepared for them—my time in Savannah too easy and peaceful to remember what it was like to have the paparazzi hound you at every turn.
I dropped my head and pushed forward as they swarmed us. Anthony clasped the inside of my upper arm, like he was guiding me, protecting me. “Mr. Stone will not be answering any questions today.”
Sebastian.
Sebastian.
Sebastian.
A barb of anger struck me deep.
Everyone wanted a piece of Sebastian Stone.
Their voices cut off when the door fell shut behind us.
“What the fuck are they doing here?” I growled, shaking out my arms like it could rid me of all the vile assumptions they’d thrown my way.
Anthony raised a brow. “What, you think after you’ve been gone for six weeks there weren’t going to be rumors about where you disappeared to? Plus, with the announcement of tonight’s show, the media is all over it. This is par for the course. Part of the game. You know that, Baz.”
But that was the problem. I didn’t know if I still wanted to play.
Anthony had thrown a show together last minute, something to scream Sunder was back and we weren’t going anywhere. Part of me couldn’t wait to wrap my hands around my guitar, to feel the music come alive, to experience the chemistry between the guys and me when we got on stage.
Amid the turbulent chaos roving through a show, somehow I always felt washed in peace.
The other part of me?
I wanted to walk into this meeting, give the bastard whatever he wanted, then walk away. And run straight back to Shea, never turning back.
But that didn’t mean the disaster I’d created wouldn’t follow me there.
And the guys…they’d stood behind me for my entire life. Supported me when I got thrown in prison the first time, back before we’d ever made it. When we were struggling to get venues to take us, begging everyone and anyone to listen to our demos, and sleeping in the damned van just trying to make a name.
They could have booted me then.
But they’d held out, waited for me because none of them believed in Sunder if it didn’t mean the four of us made it up. The second I got out, I’d gone clean, put my all into the band and my brother. When we’d lost Mark, I was sure it was all going to fall to pieces, and with my little brother following down the same path, I’d been sure there’d be no way to mend that kind of break. Until Zee had stepped in and became a balm to all that hurt, even though looking at him still ripped me up inside.