Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
The Battle of the Bands could be a huge opportunity. I mean, Rockland county being so close to New York City, the finals showcase has been known to attract well-connected agents and producers. There was a band who won four years ago who just played on Jimmy Fallon’s Late Show, so, yeah, this is a big deal for me. Even if doing this is dangerous. Even if it’s supremely stupid.
Who’s the “sheltered little prude” now, Trisha? I mutter to myself.
Trisha is my recently ex-roommate in the dorms. She and I were never a good match to begin with, but once she started sneaking guys into the room—the room where my bed was like six whole feet from hers—was sort of my final straw. No, I never “told” on her or squealed. But I didn’t have to, because Trisha was enough of a squealer herself to get herself caught, red handed. Or, red “naked in bed with Derrick Maybach, the biggest douchebag on the football team,” that is.
Trisha went on academic probation and got herself a new roommate. And I managed to score an empty single room on the floor above, which works out great for me with being able to practice at night without ticking a roommate off. But still, her parting words of labeling me a sheltered little prude still sting every time they come up on my head. Okay, maybe it’s half true. Maybe I’ve grown up a little sheltered. But everyone at Winchester has. I mean, we’re all sheltered, privileged rich kids, basically. And for the “prude” part?
I blush.
Well, just because I wasn’t loudly fucking half the jocks at school with my roommate trying to sleep six feet away, that doesn’t make me a prude. Although, perhaps being eighteen and having never done a thing with a guy does. But whatever.
The cab breaks sharply, and I jump out of my thoughts, blinking as I glance up at the big, decrepit building. I bite my lip and look around, realizing we’re in the shadiest, most unlit and somewhat scary looking part of Rivington.
“Uh, you sure this is it, missy?” The cab driver mutters, glancing back at me.
“Yeah,” I say with uncertainty before checking my email for the audition invitation from the band and confirming the address.
“Uh, yeah, it is. How much do I owe you?”
He frowns.
“Honey, I’m not letting you out here.”
“Well, this is where I’m going.”
“Honey, you look sweet,” he mutters, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “Too sweet for this neighborhood.”
“No, it’s fine I’m here to see a rock band.”
His look only hardens.
“Look, I’ll be fine. But thank you. How much?”
He grinds his teeth, looking for a second like he might not actually let me out.
“Tell you what, I’ll give you a hundred dollars for the ride.”
He swears under his breath, shaking his head and muttering something about “rich kids.” But in the end, he sticks his hand back for the cash and unlocks the door when I press it into his palm.
“Thanks for the ri—”
He roars off, peeling around the corner and disappearing, leaving me suddenly very alone on a very dark, very grungy street. I shiver as I quickly run over to the front door of the big old rickety-looking brick building and knock. I hear nothing, so I knock again, harder this time. I crane my ears, picking up the distant sound of drums and a guitar, and my pulse quickens as I grin excitedly.
I pound on the door again and try the doorbell I finally spot next to it a dozen times, but when no one comes, I sigh heavily and give the door a yank.
It opens.
I blink, and quickly step into the dimly lit hallway. The sound of music is coming from further down the hall, so I follow it, listening to the rock sounds getting louder and louder, before I turn the corner and hit a wall.
Crap.
There’s an elevator though, so I punch the button for that, and when it dings open, I step inside. Luckily, there’s only one other floor, so I push that. My pulse quickens again as the doors close, and I shiver as I lean against the back wall of the elevator as it slowly rises. My breath comes quickly, and I can feel a shiver teasing across my skin.
This is it. This is my big chance.
So, don’t mess it—
Suddenly, the elevator door open.
…Not the one in front of me.
I shriek as the wall behind me—or rather, the second elevator door behind me—suddenly slides open, and I go toppling head-over-heals out. Shrieking head-over-heels, and right into the muscled, rock-hard, and shirtless arms of a man. I gasp at the touch of skin on skin, and when my palm slams against his bare chest, my heart skips as it lingers there. He and I both go staggering backwards, right into two other men, and my mind is all over the place as I realize all three of them are shirtless.