Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 220
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Birdie’s expression sobers, and he licks residual beer off his bottom lip. “Maybe. But you do know Chase is writing music for Madelyne Kip now? Her singles constantly go multi-platinum. So no, you’re not going to be able to evade his songs, man.”
I let out an annoyed breath. “Great.” I seriously don’t even want to talk about this anymore. It just keeps getting worse. “How’s the tour going?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
He shrugs. “Vibes are off. It’s weird not having you here.”
“Yeah, it’s weird for me too.” I shift my weight.
“You should start training for your tour. I puked between ‘Tragic Hold’ and ‘Demolition’ our first night.”
I shake my head. “Riot hasn’t said when our tour will start or even how long it will be. I think they’re waiting to see how the single performs.”
Birdie gives me a look. “As soon as the album is in the can, Riot will be fast-tracking everything. There’s no way they’re not going to put you on the road as soon as possible. Believe me. I’m always right about these things.”
He’s only heard “Nuclear Winter.” I sent him a demo because I wanted his thoughts on it. He texted me five minutes later.
BIRDIE
If you ever think about coming back to Nothing Personal, I will kill you myself.
“That’s if we finish the album. We’re still working on the last few songs, and these might actually take a while. Tom is a perfectionist.”
Birdie scrunches his face. “He’s worse than you?”
“Oh yeah.” I laugh. “I’ve actually learned to let go a little bit working with him.”
“Huh.” Birdie chews his lip and glances over his shoulder. I hear some muffled voices behind him, and he nods to someone off-screen. When he looks back to me, he says, “Steffi wants to grab midnight pancakes.”
Nostalgia weighs heavy on my chest. “Vibes are off?” I raise my brows. “Show must have been good if she’s getting pancakes.” It’s been her celebratory thing after good performances.
“It’s off for me,” Birdie clarifies and takes a deeper swig of beer.
“What are you doing on your free day tomorrow?” I ask. Nothing Personal tours five days on and two days off. I’m assuming our schedule for The Carraways will be the same.
He shrugs and skims his tongue over his front teeth.
I know that look.
I know the silence.
“Bird—”
“It’s just a gig at the Opera. Laverdière is conducting, and Papi and him are good friends. I can’t really bail while Papi is sitting in box seats.”
Shit.
“Which opera?”
“Tristan und Isolde.”
“Fuck, Birdie,” I cringe. “That’s four and a half hours long.”
“Five with intermission,” Birdie corrects me. “At least I like playing this one. Act Two never disappoints.”
The door to the diner opens, and I turn my head to see Tom. “Phoenix, you okay, dude?”
I must have been out here longer than five minutes because concern pleats the skin between his brows.
“Is that Tom?” Birdie’s eyes light up on screen.
“Goodbye, Birdie,” I tell my brother.
“NO! TOM! TOM! TOOOM!” He screams so earsplittingly loud that I have to pull the phone away from my face.
Tom hears my brother and starts walking over. Against better judgment, I don’t end the call. I’ve met Tom’s brothers. He might as well be reintroduced to mine.
“Is that Fake Phoenix?” Tom asks as he lands beside me.
“Hey, Tom Carraway Cobalt,” Birdie wears a massive smirk. “I heard you wanted to suck my dick.”
“Fuck off, Birdie,” I tell him.
Tom rolls his eyes. “Dude, I’m pretty sure you told me to beg you, and I hung up on you. But yeah, I totally wanted to blow you. You got me.”
Birdie is still grinning. “I kid. You can’t want to suck my dick if you’re currently sucking my brother’s.”
“Jesus Christ.” I’m five seconds from hanging up on him, but I’m too hooked by Tom’s lack of response. He’s not telling my brother we’re not blowing each other.
Tom glares at the screen. “Are you sure you’re okay, dude? You’re sweating so much, I think you might be melting. Someone throw a can of water on you?”
Birdie laughs. “You’re calling me a Wicked Witch. Nice. Hey, Phoenix, next time you fuck this one can you rail him extra ha—” I end the call.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “My brother’s life goal is to embarrass the shit out of me. It really doesn’t have much to do with you.”
Tom shakes his head. “I don’t really care about your brother. I’m more concerned about you and why you bolted out here.”
A gust blows through the street. I step closer to Tom, blocking him from being beaten by wind. Despite the mountain of pressure on my chest at having this conversation, I’m not as eager to run away from it.
I want Tom to know.
“My ex from college was a songwriting major at Berklee. He sold that song to Oak Bluffs a few years ago. I never thought I’d hear it again. I hoped I wouldn’t.”