Conquest by S. J. Frost Read Free Book Online Page B

have
     
to worry about attachments to the drummer.”
     
Greg took a deep breath. Evan leaned against the wall, struggling not to laugh.
     
“Jesse, you really need to chill-out, man,” Ben said, rubbing his eyes.
     
“Ben, I wouldn’t…” Kenny started.
    “Oh, don’t get me going on your ass,” Jesse said, turning on the keyboardist. “You don’t even want to know how pissed I am at you.”
    Ben looked up at him with an apologetic face. “I’m sorry, okay? But I was nervous. It was really packed out there and people were pushing and screaming. This place is way too small for people to be acting like that.”
    “When people are excited over music, that’s a good thing! I can’t believe you missed the whole intro to ‘Euphoria,’ and Kenny had to try and cover your ass when you were off the keys all damn night!”
    “You know, Jesse, Mike’s right. Music is your life and that’s great, but the rest of us have lives besides this. I don’t need to be talked to like this for something that’s supposed to be fun.” Ben stood and moved for the door.
    Jesse turned his back to him. “Fine! Go! I don’t need somebody that’s only going at this half-assed dragging me down!”
    Silence filled the break room.
Jesse ran his fingers through his hair, still wet with sweat from the evening’s performance. He clasped his hands behind his head and stared down at the floor.
    “That was really brilliant,” Kenny said.
“Shut up, Kenny,” Jesse muttered.
    “Well, we’re right back where we started. Again . Just the two of us. Again .”
“I know what the situation is.”
“It’s like you have it on a timer or something. Same shit, just a few months later.”
“I—”
“You know, screaming like that is a real good way to trash your cords,” a voice from the doorway interrupted.
Jesse and Kenny both looked toward it.
    Jesse gasped and spun around, instantly recognizing Evan Arden. Evan leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest, a confident smirk on lips. Jesse’s breath caught in his throat as he looked into Evan’s azure eyes. It was really him. Evan Arden. The man, the singer he had admired for so many years stood right in front of him.
“Jesse Alexander, right?” another man said, walking inside the break room.
    Jesse’s attention stayed on Evan. He didn’t look any older than when he had been putting out albums. His hair was longer now, falling close to the bottom of his neck in back, and didn’t have the artificial highlights of gold and copper streaking through the rich chestnut color like he used to wear when performing, but it still looked incredible with how he had it styled in a slight wave.
    Two small gold hoop earrings dangled from Evan’s left ear. He wore a white shirt with silver buttons running down the front and enough left undone to reveal his smooth, fit torso. He held a Yankees cap in his hand and silver rings of various designs adorned nearly all his fingers, though the ring on Evan’s right index finger looked to be older, more worn, and appeared to be made of white gold featuring an eagle set on a square piece of onyx clasping a marquise-cut ruby in its talons.
Jesse drank in every detail of him, unable to pull his eyes away. Evan met his gaze, direct and unwavering.
    Greg stood holding his hand out to Jesse. “I’m Greg Hansen. I’m a producer with Phoenix Records. This is my assistant, Tim Polanski, and I’m sure you recognize Evan Arden. That was some show you put on tonight. Your energy overrode the mistakes the drummer and keyboardist were making.”
    Realizing there were other people in the room, Jesse snapped himself out of his stupor. He brought his attention to the man speaking. He looked to be in his mid-forties, a few strands of silver peppered his brown hair near the temples. Jesse flicked his gaze to the other man, who appeared to be in his early thirties with sandy colored hair.
    Jesse took Greg’s hand in a firm grip.