Page 119 of Second Sets Omnibus

“How so?” I raise a brow, strolling through the living room with my hands in my pockets.

A million thoughts race through my mind as I settle across from her, crossing my legs. A bored look crosses my face when she grins more, tapping her nails against the papers on the counter. Thick silence encases the room, doing little to rile me up. Her beady blue eyes glare at me when I huff, rolling my eyes.

“Speak, for God's sake, Gloria. Spit it out already,” I growl, reaching the thin end of my patience.

My fingers curl and uncurl on the countertop, waiting for her to finally open her mouth and reveal whatever bullshit she has up her sleeve. But my patience wears thin when her eyes widen, and her lips flap like a fucking fish out of water.

The stool squeaks against the linoleum floor when I abruptly stand, digging my phone from my pocket. I don't have time for her shit, especially not today. Not after this weekend. And not after that phone call I received. I need to plot this entire thing and expertly move the pieces on my board before I make any moves.

“This is yours,” she says, gesturing to the paperwork on the counter.

I grunt, walking back and sitting down. She swallows hard when I scowl in her direction, making the poor woman flinch. If I were nicer, I would hold back the anger brewing slowly inside me, but I can't seem to help it around her.

“What is it?” I ask, putting a hand out, and thankfully, she gives it to me.

“It's everything you need for the competition,” she says, sitting back and folding her arms across her chest in victory. “Remember our deal?”

I raise a brow, flipping through the pages.

Congratulations on your win! The West brothers have officially chosen you and hand-picked you to participate. Please read the rules below…

The contest will be held at the KC Club in East Point Bluff, California, on December 15th of this year. All chosen participants will receive a call directly from the showrunners, confirming their win. All selected participants must RSVP within seventy-two hours by texting 555-425-1933 with theiranswers. All chosen participants must arrive on December 14th for registration.

“Seems you only have two weeks to make it out there,” Gloria says, staring down at her manicured nails with a smirk.

“Seems that way,” I huff, continuing to read the stipulations and rules. Fuck. I need Callum to read these over, so we don't miss a damn thing. The last thing we need is to forget a damn rule.

“Which means,” she says in her snobby voice. “You only have a week to get everything in order.”

My heart pumps double time at all the shit we have to do to get to the damn contest before it starts. Packing. Getting money. The car. Fuck. Getting the guys on board and…

“Here's the five grand,” she says, waving around an envelope full of cash. “And my word that your father hasn't found out. In fact, he'll be on a business trip for the next week or so.” She lifts her chin, looking smug as hell. But I'm too concerned with the amount of shit I have to do to pay her any mind. She can jump off a cliff for all I care.

“Great,” I say, collecting the paper and shoveling it back into the envelope they came in. “You know it's a crime to rifle through other people's mail.” Looking over my shoulder, I look at her, and she shrugs, holding onto the cash with a firm grip.

“Callum asked me to look for the mail,” she sniffs. “You have been away for a week.”

Every possible outcome runs through my mind.

“Remember, though,” Gloria says, climbing to her feet and brushing her hands down her pants. “The other part of our deal. I'll give you the extra funds if you…”

“Yeah. Don't worry. I won't forget about you and Camilla.” I shake my head. I can only imagine how insufferable my father will be when his two main punching bags disappear from the situation.

“And?” She raises her brow, coming to stand in front of me.

“Would you spit it out? I don't have time for this.”

“The girl stays here. No matter what. She'll ruin everything we've set out to do.”

“We've? You mean the band?” She swallows hard and waves her hand.

“Of course, your band,” she scoffs.

I wipe every emotion from my face and nod. No matter how much I want to fight it, Gloria's right. The guys are ready to hand over the keys and fucking stay here in Central City, where we'll never go anywhere. We'll never get our band off the ground if we stay for River.

Gloria's grin grows a mile, and she bounces on her toes. “If you want my advice,” she says, leaning in as I scowl. I don't want anything from her. I want to lie down and collect myself. Maybe take a hot shower and leave the memory of River down the drain, which is impossible to do. “A little birdy told me you'll want to speak with Donavan Drake. He might have a few ideas on how to rid yourselves of the trash. Pictures included.” She taps my cheek condescendingly and waltzes away with a victorious pep in her step.

God. Burn my eyes out now. Please take me away from this miserable place.