“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything.” He shrugs. “Once we settle on a date, I’ll courier over the two plane tickets and we’ll get the ball rolling.”
The air freezes in my lungs.
“Four,” I say slowly, staring at him.
His brows lift.
“You said two.” I swallow hard. “But with the guys, it’s four of us. Four tickets.”
His expression doesn’t change, but I see a small fissure of displeasure behind his eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear, Ryder. This deal — it would be for you. Thetwoof you. You’re the talent in this equation. Those others? They’re dead weight. Dime a dozen.”
“I see.” I shoot a glance at Lacey. She’s studying her magenta fingernail polish, avoiding my eyes.
She knew. That’s why she didn’t want me to pull Linc and Aiden into this discussion.
“Listen, I have to run, but here’s my card.” Clay slides a sleek black business card across the table. “Lacey already gave me your contact information. Chris will be in touch soon.”
He’s gone a second later, his assistant trailing after him, still typing rapidly into his cellphone.
I sit back heavily against the chair and blow out a long breath.
Here it is — everything I’ve ever wanted, at the tips of my fingers. I just have to reach out and take it.
…and screw over my best friends in the process.
I can feel Lacey staring at me, but I can’t even look at her right now. If she were a cartoon character, she’d have two huge dollar signs plastered over her eyes. She doesn’t give a shit about band loyalty or human decency. She cares about how many zeros are on the end of that Red Machine contract.
How many pairs of rhinestone cowboy boots can you buy with a million dollar record deal?
A hell of a lot, I’m guessing.
“Well?” she prompts impatiently. “What do you think?”
I push to my feet and walk away. “I think I need a drink.”