Bite (A Music Romance Story)

Chapter Two - Asher

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Asher's POV

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Freddie, our manager, falls into step beside me as I watch the movers haul in a grand piano. He sidesteps one of the guys heading outside to bring more stuff into the house before continuing his barrage on me. "It's not too late to change your mind, you know. I can charter us a plane to LA in two hours, and we can get out of here and into a proper recording studio."

I wipe the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand. Damn. I didn't expect Coral Cove's weather to be so unforgiving. Even the occasional breeze coming through from the front door does little to dispel some of the heat clinging onto my body.

I guess that's what we get for not doing much research when we decided upon this tiny island as our home for the next two months. The only reason we chose this place was because it was a short flight from our last stop on our US tour.

Plus, the beach. And who doesn't fucking love the beach.

"No, Freddie," I say with a long sigh. "The guys need a break from LA. If the label wants to force us to get this album done, we're doing it here, away from prying eyes."

"But Coral Cove?" Freddie asks worryingly. "It's in the middle of goddamn nowhere."

"That's the point. Total anonymity. Didn't you say that wherever we picked, as long as we had privacy, that we could operate there as freely as we liked?" I say and Freddie slams his mouth shut. "Coral Cove was an unanimous decision made by the band."

"That's because half of them think they're here for vacation," Freddie grits his teeth. He jabs a finger against my chest, prompting me to stop at my tracks. "It's your job to remind them of their deliverables."

"Actually, it's your job," I say dryly.

He mashes his lips tightly together, frustration clinging onto the crevices of his wide forehead.

I don't understand what the big fuss is about with staying in Coral Cove. Yeah, the infrastructure of a recording studio isn't nearly as great as our usual LA-based studio, and everyone except us four thought it was a terrible idea to work on a next album so far away from HQ, but I think we're past the point of caring about what out-of-touch label execs think.

We'll just make do with what we got here. All our equipment is being shipped here anyway. It'll be like we never left LA.

Besides, it's not like we're moving here permanently, which Freddie seems to act like that's what we're doing here. Don't get me wrong, I love LA – that's where I started out as a musician, and that's where I'll probably retire too. But the city can get a little stuffy at times, and not even a month tour around the states has been able to get rid of the dread of going home.

And perhaps, my decision to convince the band not to return home, at least a little while longer, may be prompted by the fact that there's a certain someone there that I especially dread seeing again.

"Asher," Freddie warns. "I'm being serious. You're not thinking straight."

I muster a loud groan. Two years ago, I would've conceded to whatever he wanted us to do because he 'knew best', and in most ways, he still does. But I'm not the naïve 19-year-old kid anymore when he first met me, and he knows he can't rely on just words to bend me to his will whenever we disagree.

"This is a bad idea," he continues to assert. "Worldwide-"

"You work for Worldwide. I work for the band," I remind him. "And if the band has a non-negotiable album deadline that they have to meet in two months, they deserve a place like Coral Cove where they can do work and chill out."