Page 6

Blake nodded.

I held my breath.

Flint swung around to face me. “Are you able to come here for a session tomorrow? We’d like to run through a couple tracks with you and see where this goes.”

Shit yeah. “That would be awesome. Are there any other callbacks?”

“No.” Flint shook his head. “Just you.”

“Sweeeet.” I kept my tone calm and casual, but on the inside, I was pumping my fist and screaming fuck yes. “I’ll be here.”

The following day, I played for five hours with The Flintlocks. With each minute that passed, it grew harder and harder to sit on my simmering excitement. We gelled. We jammed. We jived. I hadn’t been around people who inspired, encouraged, and respected me in years.

But with nothing more than a handshake and a thank you, they sent me home after the session, saying they’d call me later that evening.

The wait almost killed me.

My cell phone rang just after nine. I answered it and held my breath.

“Lewis?” Flint’s sultry voice came through my cell phone speaker. “From the moment you played The Killers, one of my favorite bands, you intrigued me. You, ripping my song apart stung, but it’s what I wanted to see. Slip loved some of the suggestions you made and how quickly you picked up the tracks. Cole can’t deny you’re talented but is concerned with you being five years older than us. He’s worried you won’t keep up with his partying.” Flint’s tone remained consistent and professional; it was hard to gauge his emotion and direction.

Was I in? Fuck. “Is that another challenge?”

“Maybe. Your nerves were shocking, and deep down, it’s hard for us to replace Phil.” Then his voice softened. “But they’re things we’re willing to work through and will get better with time. We all agree you’ve got something we want. The edge we’ve been looking for. We’d love you to join us in recording the album, and hopefully beyond. You in?”

Holy shit! “Yes.” My heart somersaulted and backflipped. I punched the air and hollered. “Oh my God, yes. That’d be awesome.”

“Is there any chance of delaying your flight back to New York for a few more days? We’d love to run through the rest of the songs for the album with you.”

Holy freaking wow. I had no sessional work until mid-January, and I didn’t care if I lost my crappy bar job. I’d easily find another. “Yes...yes. I can do that.” I bit down on my knuckles to stop myself from shrieking and shouting. They want me. YES!

“Well then...welcome to The Flintlocks.”

Those words were music to my ears. “Thank you. I promise, I won’t let you down.”

This was the chance of a lifetime. The break I needed. I wanted this so much. It felt right.

I was a Flintlock.

I wasn’t going to fuck this up.

Chapter 3

TIA

I reached for the doorbell. My hand quaked as I pressed the buzzer. Unease rolled through my guts. I hadn’t seen my brother, Cole, for ten months. Not since Phil’s funeral.

Losing Phil had left a huge hole in my heart. So had every excruciating month since then. Phil’s death hadn’t been the only thing that had kept me away from the people I cared about. My secrets and heartache had played their part. I’d tried to move on. Forget. But I’d failed. Thanks to another horrid blow, I’d had to say goodbye to the life and career I’d built in Chicago and return to LA, the city I’d been desperate to escape.

Staying with Cole would help me settle into living on the West Coast again and adjust to the crappy hand I’d been dealt before I found my own place.

The huge frosted-glass door opened.

Cole’s six-foot-two, zero body fat, ripped frame filled the doorway. Years of drumming had given him a physique most guys would die for. I used to be able to outrun him, tackle him to the ground, and never let him win a play-fight. But those days were long gone. His handsome face lit with a radiant grin. Dressed in designer jeans and a button-down, he was ready to head out. He didn’t have to wait for me. We could’ve caught up tomorrow.

“Tia.” He shot forward and wrapped his arms around me. Crushing me against his hard chest, he squeezed me tight. “Oh. It’s so good to see you, baby sis.”

“Hey, Cole.” Before I suffocated in his strong hold or was knocked unconscious by his overpowering spicy cologne, I pulled out of his embrace. “Sorry I’m late. The plane was delayed, and traffic was shit.”