URGENT (Book 2 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 6: Bad Girls Run

Mac

Trace's drama takes up the entire morning meeting.

Perfect. I would much rather think about Trace's three year old regrets than my recent one.

It's funny how Trace's recounting of his fateful New Year's Eve three years ago only told the story about Kat, and yet I know that was the night that Ashlynn nearly died and had to have emergency brain surgery.

I have a lot feeling for Ash. She's my friend. Yes, I know she's a drug addict, and yes, I know she drives Trace insane. But she's one hell of a piano player and she's actually friendly to Leed. She's virtually the only friend I have who isn't either occasionally bedding or trying to bed my Rock God of a brother.

Poor Ashlynn is too busy trying to talk herself out of loving the Rock God she's married to, certainly not into loving another one. Her head hurts all the time. And when her head is not hurting, then her heart is aching over Trace.

We have a lot in common. We both are trying to force our messed up heads to be the masters of our unruly hearts.

I wish she would come home to LA. I talked to Leed, and we agreed—she could come stay with us, for awhile, if she wanted. But she won't do it. She's trying to stay out of LA to get over Trace.

Staying with us probably isn't the best idea, anyway. It wouldn't really help her agenda of putting distance between her and Trace. Leed owns a house a few blocks from Trace, and I live there too. I own a condo, but after the last time Adam and I fell apart, and I was so messed up in the head, Leed talked me into subletting it and moving in with him. I haven't regretted moving in with Leed.

He and I, we run the fun.

Living together is the perfect arrangement. We are the ones that coordinate the club nights, the house parties, the weekend getaways for what Leed has named the SCIC—the Soundcrush Inner Circle. The band, the crew, some of the younger business people that work for us—like Tamara and Riley and Sawyer, Leed's PA. You would think we would all get tired of working and playing together, but we are a family.

It's nice. Especially since Leed and I never really had a family. Our mom had a hippie family and my dad had a string of wives. But neither place ever felt like it was our home. Leed and I had each other. Now we have the SCIC.

And the one good thing about the SCIC—this whole last year, I was still getting to see a little of Adam. His attendance at our social stuff was spotty for a while after our last disaster, but about six months ago, he started coming around regularly again. We haven't talked too much; we just shared space.

Which is why I'm a little freaked right now. Last night was supposed to be a way back to each other after a very rough ending last time. I know I messed it up last time. We haven't talked about all that—the guy that put me in the hospital with strangulation injuries.

We have hardly talked about anything but band stuff in an entire year. Last night was supposed to be a simple make-up screw. Not baby-making love.

I don't know what this feeling is—the feeling that I woke up with. I just woke up knowing, I was different. I was connected to something, somehow. To be honest, at first I wondered if it meant that the final piece had fallen into place between me and Adam.

I had an insane thought that I woke up in that crazy, mystical state I didn't think existed.

You know. L-O-V-E?

I really don't even like to say the word. You know how some girls don't like to say "fart" or "pussy"? That's the way I feel about L-O-V-E. Sure, I can force it out in conversation when I have to—when I'm talking about how I don't believe in it, or how other people are dumb for believing in it, or if I'm talking about a thing, not a person. I have no problem saying, "My guilty pleasure is cannoli-I love it," or "I love dick," but to talk about L-O-V-E in relation to my feelings... it feels wrong, on my tongue.