Reagan’s hands were shaking as she answered the call. She’d pretended to be cool about Exodus End’s manager calling, but it was far from the truth. If he was thinking of exploiting her looks, he was going to be sorely disappointed. She didn’t have any aspirations to look like the ideal beauty. She just wanted to play her guitar. Sometimes she wished she’d been born with balls.
“Hello?” She hoped her voice wasn’t shaking too badly.
“Is this Reagan Elliot?”
“Yes.”
He laughed. “I wasn’t sure if Dare gave me the right number. He likes to f**k with me. Thinks it’s a good time. I’m Sam Baily, your manager. Well, manager by way of Exodus End.”
She had a manager. Feeling a tad overwhelmed by all the changes in her life, she closed the toilet lid and sat down. “Dare said you had an issue with me touring with Sinners.”
“It’s not that I have an issue with Sinners. I just found out you’re a woman and I swear I could not have devised a better outcome to that contest. The fans will love it.”
“Do you really believe that? It’s really hard to get metal heads to take a female guitarist seriously. It might be best to hide me behind the drum kit so they don’t know I’m there.” She hated that people saw her as female first and musician second. She’d loved that Exodus End had conducted the contest blind. She doubted they’d have chosen her if they’d known she was a woman. And if they had chosen her knowing that, she’d have always wondered if they’d really liked her music or were more interested in her ass.
“Are you kidding, doll? We’re going to work this from every angle. The band thinks you have star potential, both as a musician and a performer.”
Reagan rubbed her eyebrow with one finger. “They’ve never seen me perform.”
“Something about band practice. Anyway, doll, you need to get back as soon as you can. I’ll set up some appointments. Fashion consultant. Hair designer. Makeup artist.”
“I’m not really the kind of woman who likes that kind of thing,” she said.
“Don’t worry. You won’t have to pay for any of it.”
“I won’t be back to L.A. for thirteen days,” she said, “and then I’ll be rehearsing with the band for the shows. I don’t think this will fit into my schedule.”
“You’ll make it fit, Reagan.” His carefree tone suddenly turned hard. “It’s in the contract you signed.”
She probably should have consulted a lawyer before she’d signed that contract. For all she knew it might say she had to have her brain transplanted into a cyborg body. “Well, you’ll have to wait until I get back to L.A. Technically, my contract doesn’t start until then anyway.”
He paused for a long moment. “Suit yourself. I’ll have your itinerary prepared for when you’re back. You’d better clear your schedule.”
“I should thank you for coming up with that contest. I’m not sure how you got the band to agree to something like that.”
“I can be very persuasive.”
Reagan wasn’t sure what he meant by that. “Well, in any case, thanks.”
“No thanks necessary. Just don’t disappoint us.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Your best plus ten percent,” he said. “Call if you need anything to prepare for the tour or if you decide to come back to L.A. early.”
After they disconnected, she sat there for a long moment, her heart hammering. How could anyone give ten percent more than their best? Unless they were holding back to begin with. She never held back. She’d be okay. This was her dream. It would all work out. Her best would be good enough. And if it wasn’t, she could always find a new job. She made a mean cup of coffee.
She sat there for a long time, wondering if she’d made the best decision in signing with Exodus End and in joining Sinners on tour. This was all a huge change for her. Maybe she’d jumped in a bit too fast. She wasn’t sure if she was mentally prepared for this.
A knock at the door startled her out of her musings.
She stood up immediately and slid the door open. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to hog the bathroom.” Trey stood on the threshold with a devilish grin on his handsome face.
Instead of letting her exit, Trey urged her back inside the small bathroom and slid the door shut.
“What did he say?” Trey asked. His voice sounded a little off, though she couldn’t figure out why. Maybe the acoustics in the bathroom?
She leaned back against the sink vanity and looked up at him. “That when I get back to L.A. they’re going to try to turn me into a sex object.”
“Does that bother you?”
She lowered her gaze. “I don’t know.”
“If Sam pressures you into doing something you don’t want to do, talk to Dare about it. He knows how to handle Sam. And if Dare won’t listen to you, I know he’ll listen to me.”
He stripped her T-shirt off over her head. She wasn’t really in the mood for sex. At least she wasn’t until Trey lowered his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Something hard flicked over the sensitive tip until she moaned and clung to his hair in surrender. That explained why his voice sounded a little off. He’d put a stud in his tongue for her.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she whispered.
He lifted his head, releasing her breast with a loud sucking sound. “I thought you might need a distraction.”
Reagan was convinced that Distraction was Trey’s middle name. He lowered his head to her other breast and she watched him rub the delightful metal ball near the tip of his tongue over her rapidly hardening ni**les. “Trey. Trey,” she murmured. “What’s your middle name?” She suddenly wanted to know everything about him. His favorite color. His shoe size. Who he took to prom.
Trey lifted his head and grinned at her. “I’m not telling you that. You’ll laugh.”
“I won’t. I promise. I want to know more about you.” But not so much that he should stop what he was doing. She clung to his head with both hands and directed his mouth to her breast. He sucked and stroked her tender nipple as his hands moved to the waistband of her pants. Oh God, what would that stud feel like against her clit? She pushed his hands aside impatiently and unfastened her pants, shoving them down over her hips to her ankles and kicking them and her boots aside in one hurried motion.