I put my hand on her shoulder and turned her around so that I could look down into her brown eyes.

Wait a minute. Brown?

The face that looked up at me in surprise wasn’t Vivian’s. The disappointment sank in quickly.

“Hey,” the girl said, her voice high pitched and grating.

Now that I was looking at her, she didn’t resemble Vivian at all. The fact that I wished she did infuriated me.

I let my hand slide down until I was holding her hand lightly. “Come with me,” I said, cocking my head toward a door that led backstage.

The girl looked at her friends, who were staring at me with their mouths hanging open.

“Okay,” she squeaked and I slung my arm around her shoulders. I didn’t ask for her name. I didn’t want it. It didn’t matter. I hadn’t been with anyone but Vivian in way too long.

Time for that to change.

Twenty minutes later and I wanted to growl in frustration. Because things weren’t going so well.

I had my eyes squeezed shut and was imagining that the br**sts barely filling my palms were large and full and the hand down my pants belonged to someone who wasn’t there.

“That’s it, Viv, just like that,” I groaned, lost in my fantasy, as the hand squeezed my cock. I kept my eyes closed and thought of Vivian’s face when I made her come. Ah yeah, that’s what I needed. I was almost there.

“My name isn’t Viv!” a voice huffed, bringing me out of my detailed daydream and deflating my erection instantly.

I opened my eyes and looked down at the woman laid out beneath me on a couch in an empty dressing room. Her shirt was open, her boobs nothing like the girl I had been picturing in my head.

I sat up and scrubbed my hands over my face. The girl scrambled to sit upright beside me and started to button her shirt.

“My name is Andrea,” she said indignantly.

“I really don’t care,” I said tiredly, not caring how bad it sounded.

The girl huffed again. “I’m leaving,” she announced, as if it would bother me. It didn’t. I wasn’t into it. Not even a little bit.

I didn’t say anything when the girl who wasn’t Vivian slammed out of the room. I leaned back on the couch, feeling oddly empty.

I was pissed. I was edgy.

I stormed out of the dressing room and headed to where I knew the other guys would be. Garrett was eating a sub and Mitch was texting on his phone. Maysie and Jordan were all cuddled up on the couch.

“Hey,” I said to the room at large. Jordan lifted his hand in a barely civil greeting. Mitch ignored me completely and Garrett nodded his head.

I threw myself into a chair and started tapping my hands on my knees. My lack of orgasm was messing with my head.

I had been so damn close too. Why did chicks have to be so touchy?

“So I was thinking we really should play that new song,” I said, knowing I was walking into a landmind.

Garrett put his sandwich down and wiped his mouth. “It’s not ready. We had this conversation two hours ago. We still have to bridge the last chorus,” he argued.

“Well I think that last chorus should be the end of the song. Why won’t you listen to me when I tell you that I think it sounds better like that?” I asked angrily.

“And why is it such a f**king big deal to you? You’ve never gotten this damn worked up over a song arrangement before. In fact, you don’t usually have anything to do with it at all,” Jordan called out.

I tapped my knees harder, feeling my anger rise. “Because I’m sick of not having a say about our songs. I think as the lead singer, my input would be important. That what I think should carry some weight,” I said.

“Here we go again,” Mitch muttered.

“Do you have something to say, Mitch?” I shot out, getting to my feet.

“Yeah, you’re the lead singer. That doesn’t mean you have any more of a say than the rest of us,” Mitch stated, putting his phone down.

“No, I just want a say in the first place!” My voice started to rise. I shoved my hands into my pockets and stood my ground. “I want to play the song. I think it’s ready.”

I didn’t really know why I was pressing the point. Except that I felt this was a test to see how much they valued and respected my opinion when it came to the meat and guts of our music. And given the way they were dismissing me, I think I had my answer.

“No, we aren’t,” Garrett ground out.

He and I stared at each other and I never thought I’d see the day when we couldn’t talk about something and figure it out.

I remembered standing with him at his parents’ funeral. I had seen him at his worst. And he had seen me at mine.

But now I looked at him and I didn’t see my friend. I saw someone who didn’t take my role in our band seriously. Someone who was standing in my way and holding me back. I hadn’t wanted to agree with Jose when he told me I was better off without these guys. But, standing there, I knew he was right.

“You have five minutes,” a stagehand said, interrupting our tense showdown. Garrett threw away his trash and gave me a level look.

“We’re not playing that song. End of f**king discussion.”

I stood there seething, feeling like a child who had been put in his place.

Well, we’d see about that.

The concert was proving to be a disaster. We were off. It was obvious to everyone. Our music lacked the energy we were known for.

It didn’t help that not one of my bandmates would look at me.