“That’s BS and you know it. You’re not helping things. We’re called Generation Rejects. Not The Cole Brandt Experience. We’re not your back-up band, you know.”

I turned on my friend and got into his face.

“I’m sick and f**king tired of defending myself. But let me remind you, I’m the lead singer. I’m the one who sings every f**king night and gets the audience off. I’m the one who interacts with the crowd while you hide behind your instruments. You guys need to realize that I make this band what it is. I bring those bitches in the door. Fucking accept it or go back to playing Barton’s. I don’t give a shit.”

“Do you hear yourself, man? I think you actually believe that line of junk coming out of your mouth,” Garrett said with a shake of his head.

“You guys would be nothing without me. Let’s remember until I came along you were getting booed off every stage. You would still be playing dime shows at Barton’s for the drunk and ugly. Be thankful I’m here. Show some f**king gratitude,” I growled.

And then Garrett punched me!

The motherfucker punched me!

I couldn’t remember the last time Garrett had been in a fight. I was so in shock that I couldn’t do anything but stand there and stare at him, my hand cupping my jaw.

Garrett shoved me hard in the shoulder and I stumbled backwards, catching myself before I fell on my butt.

“That’s what I’m talking about! Your ego has always been something to laugh about. You’re a dick, we get it. You’re the slutty lead singer. Way to go for being a stereotype. But I think you need to remember where you came from, dude.”

I rubbed my skin and grimaced.

Garrett had hit me. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.

“You all right? Did I knock your brains out of your ass or something?” Garrett asked, not looking so angry anymore.

“I’m just still trying to figure out how you landed a punch,” I said.

Garrett chuckled. “Cole, I can kick your ass any day. Do I need to remind you of the tenth grade?”

“I tripped. It had nothing to do with you hitting me,” I argued, remembering all too well what he was talking about.

I had kissed Carmen Jenkins, the girl Garrett had been drooling over for months. I had been young. Carmen was cute and had a thing for basketball players. Garrett had caught us underneath the stairwell at the back of the high school.

He punched me. A lot like he had just done.

And that time I had fallen on my ass. Though I swore it had more to do with the book bag at my feet than his fist.

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that,” Garrett smirked and I knew we were cool again.

For the moment.

8

Marion had agreed to let me take Friday off so I could travel to Raleigh. Provided that I have the outline for the gala plans on her desk for approval by end of business Thursday, which was in less than five hours.

I was almost finished and was just putting the last touches to the proposal and budget plan. Theo and his team had already approved most of my suggestions. I was only finalizing the minute details. The event was less than a month away and I was already flustered with trying to keep everything straight.

The gala was going to be amazing though. I had even impressed myself in how easily everything had come together. Once I had the idea for The Fading Blue theme, it was like a dam had burst and my creative juices wouldn’t stop flowing. Everything from ice sculptures to a silent auction that would include an Alaskan cruise through the glaciers.

I would have a big projection screen with images of the ocean and ice caps and placards on the table with facts and figures about global warming and rising sea levels.

The colors were simple yet classic. The decorations bold yet not overwhelming. It was meant to give the attendees the feelings of being underwater. Of being surrounded by a great open expanse.

Personally, I thought it was going to be incredible. And Theo seemed to think so too. Every suggestion I made was the best thing since sliced bread. His enthusiasm was sweet and flattering.

I had been working my ass off for weeks and I think even Marion was stunned.

The phone on my desk rang, startling me out of my single-minded focus on facts and figures. Who would have thought Vivian Baily would find numbers so consuming?

“Vivian Bailey, Events Coordinator. How can I help you?” I asked, loving how cool and professional I sounded. I still got a thrill out of saying my title.

“Hi, Vivian. It’s Theo,” his rich, warm voice said through the phone.

“I know,” I said, smiling. I had come to recognize his voice instantly, considering how often he called me during the week. I had come to look forward to it. What usually began as a conversation about work, typically devolved into a discussion about anything and everything else. And he was interested in absolutely everything I had to say!

Theo chuckled nervously. No matter how much we spoke, he continued to stumble over himself. It was refreshing to talk to someone who didn’t think the sun shone out of their own ass. I had learned that a lack of ego wasn’t a bad thing and that arrogance was sexy, modesty was too.

“What can I do for you, Theo?” I asked, lingering over his name.

I could hear him clear his throat. “I’m glad I caught you. I know you’re planning to be out of the office for the rest of the week. You never did say where you were going,” he said, blatantly fishing for information.

“No, I didn’t,” I agreed, not giving him anything. A girl had to keep some mystery. And there was no way I was explaining that I was headed for a weekend with my f**k friend.