Page 1 of Fire

Chapter One

HENDRIX

“Do you want me to beg?” I ask the man staring at me from across the desk. “’Cause I will. I’ll get down on my knees right here in the middle of this office and fucking beg.”

He scrubs a hand down his face and exhales tiredly. “Jesus.”

“Come on. I never ask for anything.” His bushy, silvery brow rises in amusement, like,are you fucking kidding me,and I quickly amend my statement. “I mean, I never ask for anythinganymore. Grown-up, remember?”

“Hendrix.” The way he says my name is sort of like the long sigh you let out when you finally reach the end of a particular grueling work week. It’s the same exact pitch and tone I would hear all those years ago when he caught me stealing candy from the pantry before dinner. Or erasing my chores off the whiteboard, only to put them under my little brother’s name instead.

“Why?” I demand. “Give me one good reason.” I lean forward in the plush leather chair, the familiar smell both comforting and annoying. I’ve been in this office more times than I can count.

Pretty sure my feet couldn’t touch the ground the first time I sat in this chair.

Growing up, this place has always felt like a second home. It kind of has to be when your last name is plastered on the front of the building. But I’m not that kid who used to scribble naughty words on the conference room whiteboard anymore. I’m an adult—one who could sit across from Lance Creed as an equal.

Or, at least, I thought I could.

The man in front of me sighs and runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. His beard is freshly trimmed, and he wears one of his prized vintage concert tees—the ones he collected decades ago while traveling the globe to make a name for himself.

“It’ll look bad,” he argues.

I glance around the spacious office. Awards, accolades, and photos of famous musicians adorn every inch—musicians who owe their fame to the man in front of me. My father, Lance Creed, owner of the Creed Agency.

The myth. The legend.TheCrusher of Dreams.

My eyes focus on one face, particularly on his wall of fame, and I grin.

“Didn’t seem to matter with Zander.” I raise an eyebrow in challenge.

His gaze narrows as it lands on the same photo of him and Zander at the VMAs. My dad’s arm is stretched over Zander as he clutches that little moon man in his hand. “That was different. He wasn’t family when I signed?—”

I smile as he realizes his mistake. I cross my arms over my broad chest. Those familiar blue eyes, almost identical to mine, seem to soften, making him resemble more the man who raised me than the man I work for.

“Come on, Dad. I know that’s not what this is about. You’ve offered to sign me more than once, and you never gave a shit thatI was your son.” And I know he’s probably thinking the same thing as me. If I had taken him up on his offer, maybe I wouldn’t have fucked up so royally that I’d need to grovel in my father’s office like a child.

At least he’s kind enough not to mention it.

He frowns. “I did, but you never wanted my help. So why now? What’s changed?”

I shift uncomfortably in my chair, unwilling to reveal the real reason. So I shrug and stick with the obvious. “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, Dad. How often does a band like this need a hired gun?”

“Thisband?” He scoffs. “A lot, apparently.”

I chuckle. “Okay, yeah. Manic at Midnight may be a bit of a mess, but they’ve never needed a bass guitarist. This is my chance. This gig was made for me.”

He stares at me for a moment. Then another, until he finally says, “Look, Hendrix, I’m gonna be honest with you.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

The look he gives me indicates that he doesn’t believe me for a second, yet he carries on regardless.

“Manic is a total shitshow.” He levels me with a weary glance. “Has been for a while. I thought they were back on track after that whole thing with Mitch…”

My foot starts bobbing in annoyance. “I don’t need a recap, Dad. They lost their lead guitarist. Then they signed Zander. My best friend became famous. I was there, remember?”

It isn’t exactly something you forget. Your best friend, roommate, and honorary brother is out there living his best life as a session guitarist, hopping from one gig to the next until one day, he getsthegig.