Max just rolled his eyes. "I think you need another beer, Lo."
"I need some pussy," Steve said.
"You always need pussy."
"This is Brian," Trey insisted and no one would convince him otherwise. The longer he listened to the guitarist's demo, the more certain he became. And the more angry. "Someone must have pirated some of his material. Fuckin' rip-off artists piss me off."
Max said, "I guess we'll find out when they audition. Can't fake that kind of talent."
"So what do they look like? A bunch of douche bags?" Dare asked.
"You haven't seen them?" Trey asked and set the headphones down. Not because he didn't love to hear Brian play, but because the longer he listened, the more ticked off he became that someone would use his friend's material that way.
"No, we're going into this blind. Our manager's brilliant idea to make a contest out of this has turned into a major pain in the ass. We don't care what the winner looks like. We just want the right sound. Chances are we know some of them and Sam didn't want us to be swayed by that either. Is Sam even here today? Fuck no. He's in New York with some all-girl goth band he's trying to sign. So now this stupid contest he came up with is all on us."
Trey's gaze shifted from one gorgeous man to the next. Did they really expect him to believe that they didn't care what the newest member of their band looked like? They all worked out and had excellent physiques. Tribal tattoos accentuated the cut of their hard-muscled bodies. Their long, well-kept hair made the girls go wild and they wore just the right amount of leather. Maybe they didn't want the newbie competing for their women and secretly hoped he was a toad. Or maybe they were so pissed at their manager they really wanted this unorthodox way of picking a new band member to backfire. Trey doubted that. He knew how serious this band was about its career. They wouldn't have gotten this far if they lacked sense. Too bad their manager didn't share it. He was all about promotion.
"Well?" Logan prompted. "What do they look like?"
"I didn't notice," Trey said. "One of the guys brought his girlfriend along with him. That I noticed." Well, he had also noticed the weird-looking guy who'd been hanging on her, but mostly because he couldn't figure out what she saw in him. Must be the guitar thing. Some girls had a thing for musicians no matter how fugly they were. Still, something about that woman had been unquestionably raw and sexy. Too bad she was taken. Trey didn't chase after women who were taken. There were enough single ladies out there to meet his every need. Why fuck up some other guy's miserable relationship?
Max sighed loudly. "Might as well get this over with. If they all suck, we get to go home, right?" He flipped a switch and spoke into a mic that fed into the sound booth. "Send in victim number one."
There was a heavy window shade pulled down to block those auditioning from view. Victim number one was a phenomenal instrumentalist. As was number two. Max scribbled notes on a pad of paper while the rest of them just listened. Were all vocalists anal? Sinners' lead singer, Sed, would have probably done the same thing. When guitarist number three began to play, Trey jumped to his feet, knocking his stool over backward. He leaned forward and squinted at the glass in front of him as if it would give him X-ray vision and he could see through the shade blocking his view.
"That's Brian," Trey said.
"El-li-ot," Logan insisted.
"You guys have taken this joke far enough. He needs to be in the hospital with his wife and new son."
"Trey, it's not Brian," Dare said. "No one is fucking with you."
"I'll prove it's Brian. Don't you think I know his sound? I've played guitar with him for eighteen years." Trey turned on the microphone. "Play the solo to 'Gates of Hell.'"
There was a screech in the booth as the guitarist stopped playing in the middle of 'Bite.' A second later Brian's most insanely complicated and fast solo filled the booth.
Trey scowled at Dare. "I told you it was him. No one can play that solo like he does. Not even me."
"Why would we go to all this trouble to fuck with you, Trey?" Dare asked.
"How the hell should I know?"
Trey exited the studio and opened the door to the sound booth. "Ha ha, Brian, very funny." Except it wasn't Brian playing 'Gates of Hell' to perfection. It was that woman. Her dirty-blond hair was cut into a short, sassy style. She wore faded army-green cargo pants, combat boots, a plain white tank top, and not a stitch of makeup. She held her red Stratocaster with authority and played it as if it were her little bitch. The woman was a fucking goddess.