Razor's Edge (Afflictions) Read Online Free PDF Page B

If I hear another woman cry tonight I’m going to go bal-fucking-istic.

 
     
                  Three
     
    Morgan
     
    “Dammit, Lina," I say between lyrics. I’m not sure the soundproof padding in my basement can take any more. My ears sure as hell can’t. She had a rough night with Rictor, so I’ll cut her some slack. "Are you sure you’re up to practicing?"
    She nods and adjusts the tune on her keyboard. "I can’t let what happened with Rictor slow us down. Now that we aren’t getting signed, I want to work harder to make that happen."
    That’s what I’ve been thinking. Emily Rhines isn’t the only record producer out there, and if we want to get noticed, we have to kick it up a notch. To do that, we need a new guitar player. Last night we hit up the after-party at Adam’s. I put the word out and posted an ad on Craigslist this morning. So far, no calls.
    "How about..." She lays down a few notes and Bryan joins in. She stops, scratches her red, pixie-like hair with her pen, scrunches her nose, and writes in the notes on the sheet music in front of her. She’s the only one of us who does this. Bryan and Wiley go by memory, sound, and feeling. She begins another melody and the guys join her. 
    I let them play it out and get lost in the music. I want to jump in, but can’t this far in. "Cut it. That sounded wicked. Let’s do it again with the lyrics."
    We start the song over.
    As I wait for the right beat to start singing, my phone vibrates in my pocket. “Hang on, guys. This could be our new guitar player.” Checking the number, my heart drops.
    Shooting a glance at my band, I know they can see the excitement in my eyes because it’s zapping through my body. "It’s Emily."
    They let out whoops and cheers.
    Stepping out of the soundproof room, I answer my phone.
    "Morgan Desario?"
    Shit. Uh… "Yeah, that’s me."
    "Hi. My name is Emily Rhines. I was at your show last night. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk with you backstage. Something urgent came up, and I had to take off."
    I park my ass on the couch. "It’s all right." I have no idea what to say. I need a blunt. My words always come freely when I’m high.
    "I’d like to hear you play again. I’m not sure if it was nerves or what, but your guitar player’s tempo was off. At one point it sounded like he was playing a completely different song. But you, Mr. Desario, have got amazing stage presence. The crowd was pulled into your energy. And for the most part, your band complemented you well."
    I shoot straight up from the couch. She’s seriously considering giving us another shot?
    "I could come by this evening, say around seven. Does that work for you?"
    What I want to say is, “Hell yeah, it works for me!” But instead, "You can call me Morgan. And, yeah, we’re free. Just in my studio rockin’ out." I slap my forehead. I sound like a moron.
    She laughs. "Okay, Morgan. Give me the address, and I’ll see you at seven."
    After I recite it to her and we share a pleasant goodbye, I jump into the air, letting my excitement scream free.
    Taking a deep breath, I try to erase the emotion off my face. Need to act cool in front of the guys. I enter the sound room.
    "What’d she say?" They all bombard me with this question at the same time.
    Part of me wants to string this out. Tease them a bit. It's a dick move. I can't help it. I have to fuck with them. I shrug and drag my feet across the room to the couch, falling back into it with a huff. "Sorry, guys. We tried... She said she likes our sound and all, but if we want a record deal we're going to have to start pulling some Miley Cyrus shit."
    "What?" Lina shouts, bangs her fist on her keyboard, and off-key notes splinter the room.
    "What a bitch," Wiley says. "Why even call then?"
    Bryan curses under his breath.
    Turning my head so they can’t see my smile, my eyes lock onto my guitar leaning up against the couch. Fuck, I forgot! We need a guitar player. It’s not like I can’t do