Caught in the Glow (The Glower Chronicles Book 1) (11 page)

The dinner. I’d forgotten that too. I pulled back, shooting Colin a pointed look. He grimaced.

“Yeah,” he called to Joel. “I’ll meet you there.”

We stood there for a few moments, the air filled with the rasp of our settling breaths, until I was sure Joel had left. Colin turned back to me.

“Avery.”

“You should get cleaned up and go,” I said, even though every cell in my body was urging me to leap right back into our interrupted embrace. “Not because I actually want to stop what we were just doing. But... It’ll look
really
bad if you throw a fit at the end of your set and then don’t even turn up for the second half of the event.”

“Who says I care how it looks?” he grumbled, bending to nuzzle the shell of my ear. I braced my hands against his shoulders, easing him back so I could look him in the eyes.

“Maybe you don’t care,” I said, “but you should. And
I
care. If you pull a no-show, I’m going to be in more trouble than you are.”

That last comment hit home. Colin made a face, but he trailed his hands around to the front of my shirt and started doing the buttons back up. I tugged my bra straps up, swallowing a sigh as the cups pressed over my still-tender nipples.

“But we’re not done,” Colin said, and waited until I met his eyes. “Us. This. You’re not taking off on
me
?”

“No,” I said with a twinge in my heart and more honesty than he knew. “You’ve got me.”

For now he was looking at me, not thinking of the women out there, especially the ones with glimmers in their eyes and on their breath. That was what mattered most.

Sterling was waiting for me when the plane landed in L.A., standing just inside the sliding doors beyond the tarmac, his face nearly as dark as the night amid the glow of the interior lights. I let the band and the scattering of security and airport personnel who’d come out to meet them pass me by. Colin shot me a curious glance, but he was deep in hushed conversation with Joel, who’d gone tight-lipped and edgy after a phone call a few minutes before landing.

Sterling fell into step with me behind the others. “Is everything okay?” I asked, bracing myself. It was past midnight. I was tipsy from the gala dinner’s wine and the other sorts of glances Colin had directed my way throughout the flight. The last thing I wanted to do right now was talk with my boss. Especially when seeing Sterling reminded me that regardless of my intentions, I doubted
he’d
explicitly approve of my new arrangement with my client.

“That’s what I’d like to hear from you,” he said. “I was informed that Ryder had some sort of... fit during his performance this afternoon.”

I found myself rising to defend the exact behavior I’d chastised Colin for six hours ago. “He’s doing the rocker thing. Smash the guitar. Play the prima donna. It wasn’t anything extreme.”

“Has he drawn attention?” Sterling said tightly.

I didn’t need to ask what sort of attention he meant. “There’s been one Glower hanging around,” I admitted, my stomach knotting as the image of her fingers trailing up Colin’s arm flashed back to me. “But I haven’t let her—it—get close to him.”
Much
. “I have the situation under control.”
Not really at all. But hopefully more so now.

“Avery,” Sterling said, stopping, so I was forced to stop too. He peered at me with a frown. “You know how tenuous this situation is.”

Which was exactly why I couldn’t tell him how uncertain I was. What was he going to do to fix this—send in another mentor figure who’d raise Colin’s hackles all over again? I’d made more progress than the last two Tethers had in a fraction of the same time. I
would
get the situation under control.

“I do,” I said. “He has some personal issues to work through before I think we’ll be able to pitch anything that’ll protect him long term. But he’s opening up.”

“All right,” Sterling said. “Record anything you notice, then. If we lose him, I want Spright Records to understand it was due to circumstances beyond our purview.”

“Do you really think they’d give up on the Society’s services across the board?” I asked, a chill trickling through me as I remembered his comments the week before.

Sterling’s jaw tensed. “The representative I’ve been speaking with said as much during our last conversation.”

My stomach clenched further as we started walking again. Too much depended on this, on me and Colin.

“I don’t want you letting Ryder out of your sight from here on,” Sterling went on. “Unless he’s asleep or in the bathroom, you should have a direct view.”

I nodded. Easier said than done, but I didn’t want to admit that either. I’d just have to up my game. For Colin, and for all the other musicians who needed the label to keep their faith in us. “I can do that.”

“Good.”

The band had reached the doors that led out to the drive where our cars would be waiting. As they spilled onto the front walk, Colin halted to let me catch up, still with Joel, who was gesturing urgently with his hands as he talked. Sterling motioned me off to the side where we could see them through the window. He touched my arm, his grip terse.

“Don’t let him end up like your dad, Avery,” he said. “They’ve taken too many good ones so young already.”

A lump rose in my throat. “I know,” I said.

He tipped his head in dismissal. My heart was heavy as I pushed past the doors. It lightened slightly at the almost shy smile that crossed Colin’s face as I joined him and Joel by the Mercedes.

“Joel’s crashing at my place,” he said with a hint of apology in his tone. “He and his boyfriend had a big argument, and since we both need to be at the studio tomorrow morning anyway...”

“It’s fine,” I said, giving his arm a little nudge. Putting a temporary pause on what we’d started in his trailer might not be a bad thing. The longer it dragged out, the longer it’d be me he was focused on, not that Glower in her various personas. “Are you all right?” I asked Joel as we squeezed into the car.

The drummer shrugged. His pale face was still taut. “I’ll survive.”

“He’ll come around, right?” Colin said, his tone breezy but his gaze concerned as he studied his friend’s expression.

“He always does,” Joel agreed. “I just hope at some point we can start skipping the blow up phase.” He glanced at me. “Philippe doesn’t like how unpredictable my schedule’s gotten. He doesn’t get that you have to give what the industry demands or you’re out.”

Colin grimaced. “And I haven’t exactly helped. I’ll try to keep the recording sessions on track.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Joel said. “We were playing together before I even met him—he needs to be more flexible.” But there was a jerkiness to the wave of his hand that showed how much uneasiness he was holding in.

“Then I promise you this,” Colin said. “When we get back to my place, I am going to kick your ass in Halo so hard you won’t be thinking about anything else.”

Joel laughed and Colin grinned, and for the rest of the drive I could almost believe everything
was
fine. Then we pulled up outside the condo building, and an odd glint caught my eye beyond the corner of the lobby.

I hung back as Colin and Joel headed for the elevator, peering through the scattered lamplight. My gaze came to rest on a slight figure in front of the low rise next door.

The Glower. Back in her L.A. form, pale redhead. She caught me looking and fluttered her fingers at me with a thin smile. The knots in my stomach retied themselves. Couldn’t she give Colin a break for just one night?

At least she hadn’t tried to approach us. She was smart enough to realize that would be overkill, I guessed. Even without Glower sight, a person could sense something was off with enough exposure. She wouldn’t want to risk irritating Colin when she’d been so close to marking him.

Maybe because of Sterling’s last remark, a memory swam up in my mind: Dad slumped on the studio floor, the glowing figure leaning over him, draining the last spark of his life. I spun on my heel and strode across the lobby.

“Mr. Ryder’s having an issue with a stalker,” I said to the security officers by the front doors. “Young woman, short, slim, light red hair—maybe you’ve noticed her hanging around before? She’s got the place staked out from down the street. Can you get her to move off?”

I doubted it was their jurisdiction when she wasn’t right outside, but you didn’t pay the prices to live in a building like this and get staff who questioned many requests. One of the guys marched out. He returned a minute later, brow furrowed.

“She must have left,” he said politely, but I could hear a note of doubt in his voice. “There’s no one out there, Miss.”

Oh. My face warmed as I understood. She hadn’t been here for Colin after all. This had been about taunting—and, if possible, embarrassing—me. And I’d walked right into her snare.

10.

J
ust as we reached the studio the next morning, Colin’s phone rang. I knew the instant he said, “Hello,” with that dry edge to his tone that it was one of his parents. His voice dropped as he spoke, though he wasn’t saying much more than, “Yes. I know. I know. Of course.” He motioned for Joel and I to go on ahead of him.

We lingered outside the studio doors as Colin’s expression became progressively more clouded through the Audi’s windshield. My spirits sank. I’d thought this was going to be a good session up until now.

“Do you know the whole story with his parents?” I asked Joel tentatively. Maybe Colin had shared more with him than he’d been willing to with me.

Joel scuffed his sneaker against the pavement, his hands in his pockets. “I’ve just gathered that they’re jerks. He’s always in a crap mood after he talks to them—or worse, sees them.” He made a face. “I think it’s a money thing. They don’t care what he’s doing as long as he shares the wealth. And they seem to want a lot of it. ‘Least that’s the impression I’ve gotten. Don’t tell him I told you that.”

Colin got out of the car, shoving the phone into his pocket. “All right, let’s get this over with,” he said as he strode over.

That stormy attitude smoldered on through several awkward false starts of a new song, three conferences with the producer during which Colin did most of the speaking, his voice constantly rising, and finally an argument that started with Kevin mixing up the harmonics and ended up with all four of the bandmates snapping at each other and waving their hands as they gave evidence on who exactly was screwing the entire album up the most. I cringed as I watched through the control room’s window. The producer sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Hey,” he called into his mic. “Let’s call a half hour break. Take a walk, have a breather, simmer down, and then we’ll start again.”

Joel immediately stalked out of the building. Marcy and Kevin wandered down the hall, still muttering to each other. Colin threw up his arms, and then hauled his preferred electric guitar into one of the iso rooms.

I slipped out, thinking I’d try talking to him—as much good as that usually did—but the iso room’s door slammed shut just as I stepped into the live room. I stood there for a moment, inhaled, exhaled, and decided I was better off letting him be, at least for the first half of this break. Maybe I couldn’t see him, but there was no way into that room except through this one as long as he was unmarked. He was safe enough. And there was no way I was getting through to him until he’d cooled off a little.

I leaned against the wall, running through possible openers in my head and rejecting them in turn. After a bit, my gaze crept to the drum kit beyond one of the other iso room doorways. My fingers itched. A little musical therapy was exactly what
I
needed to get my thoughts sorted out.

Well, why not? I’d made out with my client and the world hadn’t ended. Joel had offered to let me play the other day—I didn’t think he’d be offended if I took him up on the offer now. I’d just tap away a little, no big deal, and maybe the perfect solution to this mess would come to me.

I ambled over, leaving the door open so that if Colin came out I’d see him. The sticks felt good in my hands, light but substantial. I perched on the seat, spinning one stick and then the other, taking in the weight and length of them. Then I rested my foot on the pedal and launched into a basic warm-up exercise.

My fingers started to ache after just a couple minutes—I loosened my grip, reminding myself not to clutch—and I wasn’t as fast as I’d once been, but the lack of practice hadn’t erased the muscle memory. My rusty arms flowed through the motions as if they’d been waiting for a kit to appear before them. I let them leap from the practice rhythm into the drum section from one of Dad’s songs, a more complex beat that made me stumble a couple times before I got the hang of it again. The stretch and burn of muscles I hadn’t used much in the last few years felt even better than I’d remembered. My mind drifted with it for just a moment, and when I jerked my attention back to the world around me, Colin was leaning against the doorway, watching me with a triumphant smile.

I dropped my hands to my lap, and he straightened up. “Still good,” he said. “I figured you would be. You don’t just lose skills like that.”