After his meteoric rise to superstardom, Jim O'Brien is no longer a small-town boy who plays in bars and dreams of success. His handsome face is plastered on the covers of celebrity gossip magazines, and his voice alone is enough to make girls swoon...
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I threw the door to Wyatt's office open and went straight for his desk. Just as expected, he was sitting in his leather chair, talking on the phone and toying with the chain on his neck.
His beady eyes widened, and he hung up hastily, startled by the noise that echoed in the almost-empty building.
"What the fuck is this?"
I tossed the magazine with my face on the cover onto Wyatt's desk, making some knickknacks fall to the floor.
Wyatt was gaping like a fish. It didn't take me much effort to figure out he was behind that interview. I was convinced he gave the interviewer false answers — the ones convenient for him and whatever sick plan he had in mind.
It would explain why Linda seemed so surprised at my words and why she had to glance at those papers every time I opened my mouth to say something.
"What the hell, Wyatt? You crossed all the lines. Who the fuck do you think you are?"
I didn't care that Wyatt was the guy our band depended on. I wasn't thinking about the consequences of what I was doing. All I could see were the lies printed in fancy black letters.
"That's not the way you talk to the one who feeds you," Wyatt said, rewarding me with a smirk.
"You overstepped. This is not your damn marketing strategy. This is my life. My private life and my relationship are what you're messing with. I could sue them. I will fucking sue them. Let's see what you do when they want to save their asses and say you were behind all of it."
Laughing, Wyatt reached for a small figurine of a singer that somehow hadn't fallen off the desk earlier and twirled it in his hands. "You will sue nobody. I do what's best for the band. You don't want your popularity to decrease, Jimmy boy."
"I don't give a damn," I gritted through my teeth.
Wyatt's eyebrows rose. "Don't you, though? Maybe you shouldn't speak for others. The boys need money. Where's your team spirit, Jimmy boy?"
"Fuck you," I spat out.
"Close the door behind you. Let's pretend this visit didn't happen."
Wyatt didn't look at me while he said the last part. Instead, he grabbed the magazine and studied the cover. His appreciative nod made the bile rise to my throat.
I walked out of his office without sparing him a glance. I hated what he did, and I loathed the control he had over the four of us.
I knew nothing about Fin's private life, but Jason's little sister had recently started college — a costly college of her dreams. Nick had a sick parent and was paying ridiculous amounts in hospital bills. The guys would back me up no matter what, but we did have a contract. We were stuck with the label. Our career had just taken off, and it wasn't only about me — there were other people, other lives, and other circumstances.
