“If I want to move in, like, tomorrow, can that happen?” Turner asks as the real estate agent's assistant holds open one of the two massive front doors for him. He saunters in like he already owns the place, sniffing in approval as his eyes take in the chandelier hanging over our heads. I'm much more cautious, watching as Jesse stumbles in behind Turner and whistles under his breath.
“Oh my God, dude! This is like a castle or some shit,” he whispers as Turner's lips twitch into a smile and he glances over his shoulder. The two of them share a fist pump, and I drop my head into my hand with a sigh that Milo mimics.
“From the park to the palace, my friend,” Turner growls as the two of them traipse right across the mosaic marble flooring from Italy in their combat boots and Converse. The real estate agent scrambles after as I pause next to a grand piano and take a deep breath. Actually, my parents own a house just a few miles away in Benedict Canyon, a one and a half million dollar piece of property that would cost half that in most other parts of the country.
I trail after my friends, through a formal living room with enough custom woodwork to fund a small country's economy for a year. The more I see, the more skeptical I get. I mean, come on. This place is going to set us back tens of millions of dollars? Does that number even mean anything to Turner? I can barely wrap my head around it.
“Can we really afford this?” I ask Milo Terrabotti as he struggles to keep up with my bandmates, adjusting his tie as he goes. He gives me a very stern look, the skin around his face tight, but better than it was earlier in the day. Sometime between now and then, he found time to shower and change clothes. “Hey, I haven't even looked at my bank account since we hired you. I have no clue what kind of wealth we're talking about here.”
“Mr. McGuire,” Milo says as we emerge into a central courtyard and come face to face with the first of three advertised swimming pools. “Never underestimate the marketability of pain and agony.” Milo clears his throat and gives me another look. “Let's just say, if you boys decide not to work another day in your life, you and your families should be well taken care of.”
We finally catch up to my friends, standing at the edge of the pool, eyes fixated on the tropical greenery lining the edges, the miniature waterfalls, the artfully placed boulders.
“The whole place brings to mind a resort on the Italian Riviera, doesn't it?” Camby says, doing the schmoozing realtor act very, very well. Turner snorts and then spits into the pool which makes Camby turn a funny shade of pink.
“Never been,” Turner says, keeping his gaze focused on the perfect blue of the water like he's mesmerized. I look up, at all the palm trees and the broad leaf plants. To our left, there's a string of fancy pool chairs leading to a fire pit. On the wall above it, a TV hangs over the entrance to an outdoor cooking area, complete with refrigerator. Jesus, it'd be nice to live here. I mean, who wouldn't want to chill in a mansion in Beverly Hills, but the whole thing just seems … absurd.
“Turner,” I say and he turns slowly to look at me, dropping his shades back into place. The smile stretching across his lips says that, whether I think it's a good idea or not, this is where we're shacking up. All of us. Living together. Might sound a little weird when you think about – four adult men about to hit thirty, moving in with their various girlfriends (if Naomi agrees to this when she wakes up, of course), but for us, this is normal. Since we turned eighteen, we've been traveling together and sleeping in shitty hotels, in the back of our old van. When our music started to take off, we switched to fancy buses and five star resorts, but it's always been the same. Always been us.
I sigh and Turner chuckles under his breath.
“Would you like to continue the tour of the property?” Camby asks, looking at Turner like he's a God that she just doesn't understand.
“Nah, I'm good there, cupcake.” Camby nods like she expected this and clears her throat. Turner looks over at Jesse who smiles back at him. If only Trey were here to see. Milo dumped him in a hotel after he dropped us off at the hospital. But Trey does whatever Turner says, just like Jesse. If he was here, the outcome would be the same.
Crap.
Guess Indecency just bought itself a fucking mansion.
My heart starts to race, and my throat gets dry. Turner and Jesse look over at me and we share a mutual look of pain.
“If Travis was here, you know what he'd say, right?” Turner asks as he takes off his glasses again and moves a step backwards, towards the pool.
“That you were a crazy dumb shit, and this is the stupidest idea you've ever come up with?” I suggest as I watch my friend grin and wink at the real estate agent. She's under the impression we're not interested, but she's dead wrong. If she really knew Turner Campbell, she'd know he does absolutely nothing in half-measures.