“Be my guest, doll,” he says before disappearing up the front steps and into the house. The rest of my band files after him and I watch as Jesse and Josh lift Trey's wheelchair up the few stairs and into the foyer. A series of wild curses follows as Treyjan gets his first look at the place and I stand there, watching the interaction between the realtors and Paulette. Six big burly dudes stand in the background and I have a hard time remembering which ones are ours and which ones came with Paulette. Apparently it's not just Brayden Ryker who has blank-faced, unmemorable bodyguards. I make a note to try to find some distinguishing features on our guys.
“I don't much like this woman,” Lola says, keeping her position against the car next to me. I turn slowly and catch her blue-eyed gaze. “That bitch has got tickets on herself.” Lola pulls out a cigarette and lights up, smiling at my raised eyebrows. “She's so fucking full of herself, looks like she's about to burst out of that perfect suit of hers.”
“I agree,” I say with a sigh, running my hands down my face. “So I better get in there and make sure shit doesn't go South faster than a flock of fucking geese.” I drop my hands and try to smile at Lola. I keep expecting there to be some weirdness between us after this morning's conversation, but I don't feel anything but hope when I look at her. Good sign, right? Still, I better bring up that whole botched marriage proposal shit before it bites me in the ass. We're not ready for that yet, but if that's what we gotta do to keep her here with me, then that's what we're gonna fucking do. Provided, of course, that that's what Lola wants.
I hold out my hand and she takes it, a little unsteady on her feet. But we don't rush, we move across the gray brick pavers towards the front steps and climb them one at a time. I can already hear Paulette's authoritative boom echoing around the immaculately decorated mansion. I can't even believe I agreed to this, I think as Lola takes a look around and shakes her head in disbelief.
“Can't tell if this is a fairy fucking tale or a nightmare,” she says under her breath as we pause in the doorway to the living room and my eyes catch on the walnut woodwork crisscrossing the ceiling. Turner's sprawled out in a high backed chair, its gaudy gold fabric a strange contrast against his holey black jeans and blue T-shirt. This one says I'm Taken, Bitches. How appropriate.
“Think of it like this,” Paulette's saying, completely and utterly ignoring our manager as he tries to get a word in edgewise. She lifts her flawless hand up and spreads her long fingers as she gestures absently towards me and Lola. “Five of rock's most eligible bachelors, living in one house. Real life, real drama, real music. What do you think? You're the next big thing, Mr. Campbell.” My best friend frowns, and I can tell this is about to get real ugly up in here. Crap.
“First off, we're not bachelors. I'm engaged.” Turner pauses and glances over at me as Paulette's face shifts from professional but excited to outright fucking gleeful. “And Ronnie over here, he's engaged.” He nods his chin at me, and I cringe. I can't look at Lola right now. Frankly, I'm terrified to see the expression on her face. “And second,” he says, digging the hole even deeper. Milo, bless his fucking heart, tries to stop him but there's no stopping Turner Campbell once he gets started. “I'm not the next big thing. I am the biggest fucking thing there ever was.” He snorts and sits up, leaning towards Paulette with a smile stretching across his face. “But I'm also listening. You want to make a show about us? I think that's a perfect frigging idea.”
“Turner,” I say, but Josh jumps in first from his spot on the nearby love seat. “I am not fucking living here.” He turns to Paulette, sweeping blonde hair away from his face. “I am not living here. Look, Milo begged me to come over, so I could sign whatever it was you wanted signed and the guys could get their keys. I mean, we're not even really friends.”
“Shut the fuck up, Josh,” Turner says, kicking the corner of the sofa. “Weren't you complaining on the way over that your parents couldn't even go to work without getting swarmed by the paparazzi? How fair is it for you to be staying with them when you can't even step into the backyard without people leaping over the fence at your ass? Keep your mouth closed and know a good thing when you see it.”
I help Lola over to the love seat and Josh scoots over a cushion, so she can sit down. As soon as she does, Paulette's eyes swing her direction.
“So you and Ronnie are engaged then?” she asks, and I feel the blood drain from my face. I flip Turner the bird and try to intervene in the situation before it gets much worse.