Page 134 of Second Sets Omnibus

“You’re two minutes late,” Zepp quips from the corner of the large room with a drink in his hand, swirling the ice cubes. “And did you run?” His brows raise when I flip him off.

Righting myself, I waltz into the office and heave myself into a leather chair across from Seger.

I scrunch my nose. “Sorry. Traffic sucks, and Ly was a little trouble this morning,” I grumble, running a hand through my hair. “She flipped on that stupid celebrity gossip channel again and saw Kieran parading himself around with some new chick.” Rolling my eyes, I huff out my frustrations.

“Fucking prick,” Seger gripes from behind the large desk and blows out a nervous breath. “You fucking tell her. I’m not telling her.” He waves his hand, fear washing over his expression.

Zepp’s expression falls, and a slight paleness takes over his face when he nods, straightening his spine.

“What?” I ask, looking between the two of them. Fuck. My heart falls when they nod to each other, doing that weird twin talk without saying a word. “Whatever it is, tell me.”

Zepp grumbles under his breath and sets his drink down. “You have a meeting right now. Follow me,” he says, waving for me to follow and giving me his back.

I’ve gotten to know my brothers more than I would have thought possible over the past five years. We’re best friends, something I never thought I’d have the chance to say. For years I resented them, unknowing what they were going through with their stepmom and our ailing father. Zepp and Seger are the best damn family I could ever ask for. Even when Ode comes to visit, which isn’t as often as I’d like with her two kids and everything, they accept us with open arms. So, I can always tell when they’re walking me into the lion’s den and offering me up on a silver platter.

“If you fucking murder us, remember we have four innocent kids at home who would miss their daddies,” Seger says, holding his hands up placatingly.

“I’m sure Chase and Carter could pick up the pieces after I dig your graves. Are you ever going to explain why I’m going to murder you?” I ask, raising a brow as we walk out of the office and head toward the conference room. “A new band?” I ask, tilting my head.

“You are the fixer, sis. And this fucking band needs your help. They’re falling apart at the fucking seams. And you, dear, beautiful sister, are the only one who can help them,” Seger says with a grin, buttering me up with his words.

Opening the back door, they lead me to the two-way mirror overlooking the conference room from a discreet position.

My heart drops, momentarily stopping inside my chest. I immediately shake my head, slowly backing away as my skin crawls in disgust. “No. No, absolutely not. Fire me for all I care. I won’t fucking do it,” I rasp through the emotions bubbling in my throat after years of repressing them into the deep, dark abyss of my mind.

I can’t. I can’t fucking look through that piece of glass without tears burning the back of my eyes. I knew one day I’d run into them. I work for the company they signed with, but I’ve carefully avoided them for five years at every turn, until now. Here they are after all these years, ready for the damn taking. I promised myself five years ago I’d do everything in my power to bring them down piece by piece. But I’ve grown up since then, loving every aspect of my job and what it brings. I’ve met so many bands and helped them achieve their wildest dreams by picking them up by their bootstraps and forcing them to mend whatever is bringing their potential down. My heart pulls in every different direction. My stomach churns with heavy waves of bile climbing my throat. Lyric flashes through my mind withher curious, puppy dog eyes begging for scraps of knowledge on her fathers.

Fuck.

I can’t face them.

“Wait!” Zepp pleads, grabbing me by the shoulders and halting my retreat. “I know that this is…not what you ever wanted...” Panic spears through his eyes, and he heaves a breath. “They’re failing right now, Riv. They’re going to implode within five months.” He swallows hard when I narrow my assessing eyes. “They need you, the fixer of West Records.”

“Or they’re going to fucking dive off a cliff and never work in this industry ever again. It’s either you fix them, or they’re done,” Seger pipes up, crossing his arms over his chest.

Swallowing hard, I turn on my heel, glaring through the two-way mirror. My heart pumps against my chest at the sight of them sitting around the conference table with their noses in their phones, barely paying attention to one another.

“You want me to fix them?” I rasp, looking between the boys, taking in their appearances.

“Take them under your wing. Have them sign the six-month contract and move them into the Band House. Repair whatever the hell is tearing them apart,” Seger says, standing beside me with furrowed brows.

“But I…” Bringing my fist to my lips, I conceal the quiver taking over my bottom lip.

“You’re their only hope, River,” Zepp says, putting an arm around my shoulders and pulling me affectionately into his side. “They’ll be done for after this.”

“You can fucking do this. Think of Ly. Wouldn’t she want to know her fathers are successful? Wouldn’t she be happy to know the piece of shit is off the gossip station?” Seger raises a brow, crossing his arms over his chest, knowing he’s right.

“That’s low,” I growl, flicking the tip of his nose.

“Ow,” he gasps, rubbing the spot I hit. “Rude as fuck,” he mutters, turning his attention back to the boys sitting silently around the table.

Their eyes avoid each other’s, and their bodies stiffen when Rad shifts in his chair, giving a bored yawn.

“They hate each other,” I mutter, intently watching their every move. “They…” Fuck. My brothers are right. “Give me their files,” I groan with reluctance.

Seger grins, shoving every file on the band into my hands. “That’s everything. Their numbers. Their profiles. Everything you need to light a fire under their fucking asses and get them back on track.”

I sigh, flipping through the pages quickly and slamming them shut. A devious smile falls across my lips the more I watch them. At the lowest point in my life, they left me with nothing, depriving me of the partners I needed the most. They intentionally left without the knowledge that they could have cleared my name. If only they had understood. If only they had come back and talked it over like adults. Fire brews in my gut. My face hardens, and a new resolve festers in the depths of my mind. I hate them for what they did. But if this is my destiny, then so be it. Maybe they’ll survive the boot camp I put them through. Or perhaps, I’ll discard them within the first month of our contract. If they sign it, that is.