“What’s with the shit going on onstage?” Bax asked, like Linx had been the one who called for the hiatus in the first place.
It shouldn’t have made Linx happy that he had stirred a batch of jealousy in Bax. Hell, maybe if Bax and Knox saw what he had with this gig, they’d take music serious again.
Linx feigned innocence. “Shit? Onstage?”
“Who’s the band?” Knox asked, sincere and not being a dick. “They’ve got good sound.”
“They’re friends.” Linx crossed his arms. While he appreciated that Knox played good cop, he wasn’t ready to offer his forgiveness yet. “Don’t want to get rusty.”
The thing was, usually Linx was the peacemaker for Dimefront. He smoothed things over. Made everyone else comfortable. Did his thing, bored as all shit while Bax and Knox made the calls of when and where the band played.
But he was done with that. He was having fun for a fucking change. Mach and Tanner didn’t bitch and moan and take off every two minutes. Becca was everything he’d ever wanted. And Brek had his back.
He wanted the band to work shit out, but they had to try, too. He was done shouldering that weight.
“The contract says we don’t play with any bands not on the label without permission.” Bax stared at the foam of his untouched beer. “Seems like your stunt on the stage is a breach of that.”
The hell was he going on about? He was playing with two guys, helping them out in the industry. He wasn’t violating his fucking contract with Dimefront. Linx opened his mouth to say just that—
“This is not the place to have this meeting.” Brek pointed to the kitchen. “What do you say we go somewhere there aren’t ears who can hear everything you say?”
They had shit to sort, but they always seemed to have shit to sort. This was the first time any of them had brought up legal shit. This was exhausting, and frankly, it was getting old. That realization hit Linx right in the solar plexus. Until now, he’d cared more about keeping the band together more than nearly anything else in the world. Maybe he needed new priorities…
“Becca can hear this. I don’t care if Kellie hears,” Linx said. The more witnesses the better, as far as he was concerned. With Bax’s attitude and Linx’s unwillingness to budge this time, Knox would have to be the peacemaker. Knox was not a peacemaker. Which meant there was a shit storm brewing.
Brek stepped closer to Linx, leaning in to whisper, “Not talking about the girls. I don’t have enough bouncers tonight to keep you safe and handle a public brawl.”
Shouting was a high probability, given that Knox was a hot head. They hadn’t had a fist fight in years. Then again, that meant they were probably overdue.
“We’re not going to get physical.” Bax held his hands up in a show of surrender that they all knew was total shit. They may not be a band that threw punches, but Bax would be the first to throw a fist if he got his panties in too tight of a wad.
Linx wasn’t convinced. Not at all.
Knox glared at Bax as though he wasn’t convinced.
Fuck it, Brek didn’t seem convinced, either. “Linx knows where to find the break room.”
Becca gripped Linx’s arm, gave it a squeeze, and then a not-so-subtle push toward the back.
“You should listen to Brek,” she said. “I’ll handle things here.” Becca looped her arm around Linx’s waist. “Let me know if you guys need a top off.”
“Son of a bitch.” Brek stared across the room.
Linx turned to see what he’d found. One of his bouncers was in a heated debate with Babushka. When had she arrived?
“I’ve gotta deal with this.” Brek tossed down a bar towel and stalked around the edge of the counter. “Don’t talk about important shit without me.”
Linx nodded.
“Fine,” he grumbled and ambled toward the kitchen, through to the staff break space. He strode the entire way, not looking behind to see if Bax, Hans, and Knox followed. He heard the clomp of boots and knew those sounds well enough from a decade of hitting the stage together to know they were there.
“The guys I’m playing with want to meet you.” Linx shoved his hands on his waist. “When we’re done here.”
Bax didn’t sit, but he leaned against the wall. Like he was totally relaxed. The tick at his jaw was the tell that he was not at ease. “You seemed cozy up there on stage with them.”
“Take it down, Bax,” Hans warned.
“I was.” Linx crossed his arms. “They’re good guys. Excellent musicians. They’ll sign with a label soon.” He’d bet his favorite guitar on that.
