Fuck. That feels good.
“Are you kidding me right now?” Alexis wails before turning to Chandler. “That’s it. I’m done.”
“You said that already,” I remind her.
“I know he messed up, but we can work something out,” Chandler offers.
That only makes her quicken her steps.
“We’re beyond that. You couldn’t pay me enough to deal with his shit anymore,” she yaps before entering the elevator.
Fuck knows we were already paying her plenty already.
With another yawn, I lay back down on the hallway floor.
“I hope you’re happy,” Chandler snaps.
Thrilled. Alexis might be the best in the business, but she’s an uptight bitch.
Memphis scrubs a hand down his face. “Dammit, Phoenix. This is the last thing we need right now. Especially after the shitstorm you caused in Australia.”
I’m not sure what he means because I had a great time there.
Aside from being detained.
Apparently, it’s a crime to drink on the beach I wandered off to.
So is getting naked and jerking off.
Evidently, the families enjoying their afternoon by the ocean weren’t too pleased with my one-man show. Neither were the police.
Chandler looks like he’s going to have a hissy fit. “How the hell are we going to find another publicist before the tour starts?”
Storm, Memphis, and I exchange a glance before Storm speaks.
“Well, there is someone who’s always wanted to be a publicist.”
Skylar. She used to ask Josh all the time if the band would consider taking a chance and hiring her, but he was always quick to shut it down.
A pang of guilt shoots through me because forcing her to have to see the guy who didn’t stop her fiancé from killing himself isn’t the best idea.
Memphis is in agreement because he grunts, “Not fucking happening.”
“It’s not a terrible suggestion,” Chandler says while rubbing his chin. “Think she’d be able to start today?”
“No,” Memphis grumbles. “Because we’re not hiring her.”
“Why not?” Storm argues. “Not only does she know everything about us, it will ensure she’s taken care of.”
Which is exactly what Josh would want.
Bile rises up my throat as I look up at the ceiling. Skylar has every right to tell us to go fuck ourselves, but the least we can do is offer her the position first.
I can tell Memphis is having a change of heart as well, because he doesn’t say shit.
“Let’s put it to a vote,” Storm declares.
Three hands shoot up.
It used to be four.
Although technically it’s still four on stage, because with being forced to go on tour five weeks after Josh’s death, we had no choice but to hire a traveling musician to fill in.
None of us like the asshole, though.
Because he’s not Josh.
“Then it’s settled,” Chandler says. “I’ll contact Sky—”
“I’ll do it,” Memphis bites out.
“Fine, but make it quick. We don’t have much time.” Attention back on me, Chandler pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Now that the publicist crisis is handled, what are we going to do about the other issue?”
Placing a hand inside my boxers, I scratch my nuts. “What other issue?”
As if on cue, three women walk out of my suite. They’re all wearing tiny dresses and holding a pair of heels in their hands.
“Bye, Phoenix,” one of them purrs while blowing me a kiss.
“We had a great time,” another one chirps before they step over me and head for the elevators.
Guess I can cross orgy off the bucket list.
That’s when I notice one of the girls is still lingering.
Dammit. There’s always a stage-five clinger.
“That,” Chandler says while pointing to the girl with a sheepish expression on her face. “Is the issue.”
“Can you be more specific?”
His face turns red with anger and Memphis snorts. “You have no clue who she is, do you?”
None.
“She,” Chandler bellows. “Was supposed to be your sober companion.”
Squinting, I look the girl up and down. Come to think of it, she does look familiar.
“Am I fired?” the girl whispers.
“Do bears shit in the goddamn woods?” Chandler shouts and the girl scurries to the elevators.
“Bye, Phoenix,” she calls out. “Text me later.”
I don’t even know her name.