Remi shook his head, snapping back from his thoughts.“What?”
“Did you not listen to a word I said?Darrell broke up with me and drained me dry,” his mom said.“And I need to get some new clothes for a job interview.I think this could really be the one, but I want to look good, dress for the role and all.”She kept rambling on about the job.
Remi patted his pockets, looking for a cigarette.He straightened his leg and stuck his hand down the tight pockets of his pants, fishing one out of the carton.Switching the phone to his other shoulder, he looked for a lighter and…
Goddamnit.
Where was a demon when you actually needed one?
“So can you?Send some money?”his mom asked.He gave up looking for a lighter and put the cigarette behind his ear.“I know you signed that big million-dollar contract.Surely you can spare your mother some money.”
“Sure, Mom,” he said, exhaustion thick in his voice.“How much do you need?”
This wasn’t the first call she’d made to him since he signed the record deal.She’d been calling him every week or so since it was announced the band had signed a contract.She didn’t ask for moneyeverytime she called.
Just every time Remi happened to pick up.
He didn’t mind sending her money though.He didn’t.He owed her.An uneasy feeling pitted his stomach.She raised him and put up with how awful he was growing up.How terribly he treated Emerson.
“Oh, not much.Maybe a couple thousand?”
Remi choked on his saliva.“A couple thousand?”Remi asked.“For clothes?”
“You have a million-dollar contract, Remington!Why are you so selfish?”his mom exclaimed.
Remi didn’t bother trying to explain to her for the millionth time that a million-dollar contract didn’t mean he had a million dollars in his bank account.For one, anything the band made got split four ways between his bandmates, and for two, the million dollars also included the money the label would spend on producing their albums and the tour.Remi really wouldn’t see any significant amount of money until the tour was over and he earned out.
But there was no point in trying to explain that to her.Again.
“It’s for interview clothes, and since I quit my old job, I’m a little behind on bills and—”
“Yeah, Mom,” he said, cutting her off.“I’ll send you the money tomorrow.”
“Oh, good,” she said, her voice brightening.“It’s really the least you could do, but I think you should do it tonight.It takes up to three days for the transfer to go through.”
“Okay, I’ll do it tonight,” Remi said, gritting his teeth.“I gotta hang up now so I can transfer it.”
“Okay, Remington.I love you,” she said, but it was in the tone of a disappointed parent who was trying to guilt their kid into expressing affection.
“I love you too,” he bit out and hung up the phone as fast as he could.
Numbness blanketed him, his movements choppy as a slimy feeling coated his heart.He transferred five thousand dollars to his mother’s account.
Remi scrolled to West’s text with the address of the party and called a car.
He needed to get fucked up tonight.
The driver pulled up to the curb of a ginormous house.Glass walls made up most of the front.The heavy thud of bass music played from the backyard.Colored lights flashed from the inside, lighting up the grass.People spilled out the front door, hanging around and smoking on the walkway to the entrance.
Remi spotted Liam right away.He was pretty fucking hard to miss since he was half naked and climbing over a balcony railing on the second floor.People were cheering him on from the front yard.
Skye pushed through the crowd, as if she could somehow sense when a band member was making a bad decision.Fuck, maybe her demon magiccouldsense that.
“Liam!”Skye screamed, throwing her arms up.“Don’t you fucking fall.You can’t play the drums with broken arms!”
“Rick Allen from Def Leppard only played with one arm,” Liam called out as he climbed down the balcony railing and over to the edge of the house, which had an iron-fence design down the side.“So as long as I protect one of them—”
He hopped down to the ground and turned, lifting both fists in the air.“Victory!”
