“Hi, doll,” Sebastien said, whiskey in hand. His face was extra splotchy and his beard unkempt, but thank god his baseball cap covered the rest of his head.
“Sorry about the Westgrays.” She shook her head like she meant it. “I know you sunk a lot of money into them.”
“I never liked them,” Tommy added.
You’re full of shit.
Sebastien’s eyes darkened. “I’m suing them.”
“They’re broke,” she told him. “They blew their advance money on partying.” Booze and drugs, she figured.
“It’s the principle.” Her boss gulped down the rest of his drink. “I heard the show went well last night.”
“It did,” she said. “Yestown killed it.”
“Good,” Sebastien snorted. “Sign them to SDM. We need more pucks on the net.”
What the hell?
“I thought you didn’t like them.” She distinctly remembered him saying they “sucked shit.”
“I don’t,” he said. “But as long as they’re making money—”
“You should’ve come last night,” Tommy interrupted them. “We threw an epic afterparty at the Chateau . . . tons of hot chicks.”
Sebastien frowned. “I don’t do amateur night.”
Tyler stopped herself from saying,That’s what she said.
Tommy straightened his tie. “Cary thought they were good, but I wasn’t sold. I’ll let Allie take them—throw her a bone.”
Sebastien’s eyes narrowed. “Why was Cary there?”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“I don’t know, but he wants to headline Coachella next year.” Tommy’s laugh turned into a cackle. “Fucking Coachella. Can you f—”
“I can’t wait to play Coachella next year,” a man behind them said.
“Cary!” Tommy turned around and shook his hand. He pointed at the photographs. “Nice fucking snaps.”
Cary scowled at him, insulted.
“I’m going out for a smoke,” Sebastien said. Her boss hated schmoozing with artsy-fartsy people, and they with him.
“I’ll join you,” Tommy said, brown-nosing like a piece of shit.
After they left Tyler straightened her dress. “Sorry,” she said. “My meetings ran late, and I didn’t have time to change.”
“You look beautiful, babe.” Cary kissed her cheek.
“Not here.” She peered out the window, but Sebastien had more than likely booked it out of there. “How’s Rory?” she asked.
“Tuckered out,” Cary said. “He played on the beach all day. I dropped him off at the hotel a couple of hours ago and he was already asleep. Hey, how’s my ASCAP family?”
“They loved the band!”
“Of course they did.” Cary squinted at the entrance. “Have you seen Vegas?”
