Hell Bent (Rock Bottom #1) (5 page)

Turning the chair toward him, I cross my legs and wait for him to continue, hiding my smile when I see his eyes get stuck on my bare legs. It takes him a few minutes, but he finally pulls his head out of the clouds and spits out what is on his mind.

“That guy you met the other day—that asshole—he isn’t me. I don’t like being that person, but it’s what’s expected of me. This business can make people vain, and over there it’s so much worse. But, it’s just a—”

“A persona,” I finish for him, knowing exactly how he feels, but refusing to admit it.

“It’s who I’m paid to be.”

Leaning back in my chair, I study him, ignoring the fact that my phone is continuously vibrating. He’s being decent, so I figure he should receive the same in return and not have my face buried in a screen. Plus, I’m finally starting to feel like a human thanks to the pills I took, so I can focus more on what is going on and not on trying to keep my eyes open.

“So you sold out for some cash. You know money isn’t everything.” My mind drifts to everything I would give up just to have what I really want back in my life.

“Says the girl who never had to worry about it.”
Ouch.
“But me? I did what was needed to take care of my family. I tried to do it my way, but no one wanted anything to do with me. I ended up writing with a few guys and we got to joking around and I did that growling shit that I do… Next thing I know I’m taking over Lee Ambert’s spot in Moist Wood. Since then, things have been getting farther and farther away from where I want to be."

“So you think that this is a good time to jump ship on the music and people that made you who you are?”

In my head I know I sound like a bitch, but I can’t afford to take any chances. This could tank his career, and I want to make sure that he’s actually thought it through. It could also burn some bridges on my part as well, and I don’t want to do that unless he’s serious. No need to take down two careers and a company’s reputation in one big swoop.

“I think I can afford to now,” he says, keeping his eyes on mine. “I’ve been someone else for so long. I not only want to be, but I
need
to be myself now.”

“It’s gonna be hard.”

“I know.”

“You’re gonna piss a lot of people off and possibly lose a ton of fans,” I explain. “It’s going to be a hell of a lot of work.”

Nodding slowly, Bennett stretches his fingers out, drumming them across the glossy table top. “I know.”

“And you’re positive you want to make this change?”

“One hundred percent. I’m not going into this lightly, Izzy, I’ve spent years thinking about it. I kept up the asshole act because that’s who everyone wanted me to be, but you can only be someone else for so long before it drives you insane. No one supported the changes that I need to make to be true to myself, so I walked away from everyone last night.”

“Wait, what do you mean
everyone
?” I ask cautiously.

His eyes cut to the side for a moment before landing back on me. “I walked away from everyone on my team except my lawyer last night after the concert. They all told me that I was committing career suicide, and I only want supportive people working with me on this.”

Well then…
Maybe he is completely serious about this. I guess if he’s looking to start over completely, he’s doing it the right way. Not wanting people around that will drag you backward is a good thing, he’s just lucky that I’d still even consider working with him.

For the next hour, we go over all the specifics and work out everything we needed to say.

“I’ll have the paperwork drawn up and sent over to your lawyer so we can get you bought out of your current contract and get started.”

Pushing out of the chair, I hold my hand out to shake his. He takes it after standing, but again, he doesn’t let go as quickly as he should.

“One thing,” he says with a smile.

“I knew that was too simple.” I laugh. “What do you want?”

“You.” My eyes widen when my mind begins to wonder to places it shouldn’t even think about going, making him laugh. “I only want to work with you.”

Leaning back against the closed conference room door, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Why the fuck did I just go and tell her I only wanted to work with her? Shit would be so much easier if I had left it alone and let them pair me up with whoever they wanted to manage the shit they want to do with me, but no, I have to go sticking my nose places it shouldn’t be. 

My nose shouldn’t be there, but my dick sure wants to be...

And therein lies my problem. For a brief second I was thinking with the wrong head.

I shake the thought out of my head and force my eyes open since I feel someone looking at me. I shouldn’t be thinking like this considering the fact that she’s been with my best friend, and I’m probably too fucking old for her in her mind, but I can’t help myself. I doubt she remembers what she talked about, but she let a lot of shit slip out of her perfect fucking mouth the first night I met her. Alcohol and anger will make a person say things without even realizing it. The one thing she didn’t let slip, however, was who she was. She should have gone home alone that night, or hell, with me, but she didn’t. As usual when he wants something, Greg slid right in and took it, not caring about what the repercussions would be. It’s OK, though, if it had been me that night this situation would be a hell of a lot more awkward.

“Everything good?” Rick, my lawyer, asks as he steps up beside me.

“Yeah.” I push away from the door just in time because Izzy hauls it open and I would have been on my ass at her feet.
Not that I would mind that...
She staggers to a stop when she realizes that I’m still there, making me smile. “Yeah, everything’s great. All the paperwork is signed or being drawn up. Izzy here is going to work with me directly.”

She grimaces but quickly corrects herself. With a smile, she reaches out and shakes Rick’s hand. “Can’t wait,” she lies, but at least she’s trying. I suppose after the way I’ve acted I wouldn’t be too enthusiastic about working with me, either. Grabbing my hand, she gives it one quick squeeze before backing up. I can’t help the smirk that happens when her skin touches mine; I’m assuming that’s why she stepped back so quickly. “Anyway, Mr. Price, I’ll get these papers finalized, and I’ll be in touch with you to let you know what’s going on.”

With a tip of her head, she turns and strides away in her too-high high heels. It makes me once again question why I made the choice to work only with her. How the hell am I going to stay upright and do what I need to do with that ass, and those legs, taunting me?

Rick slaps me in the shoulder as he says goodbye to whoever he’s talking to. “Quit staring at her ass, Bennett.”

I open my mouth to say something smart-assed to him, but I can’t think of anything so I shrug. I got caught red-handed watching her ass sway in a tight black skirt, but I couldn’t give a damn. I know I’ll have to get my shit together and stop checking her out because the second I sign my name on those papers, I sign away any chance I ever would have had with her.

“Where to next?”

Rick pushes the oversized glass door open and lets me out before answering. “You’re free for the rest of the day. I, on the other hand, have to head back to the office and get some work done for my other clients.”

“What the hell do I do with a free day?” I swear I haven’t had a day off in months. If I’m not traveling, I’m doing press spots or something else. 

“Visit your mother since you’re in town,” he laughs, making me smile. “Visit her before she calls and cusses me out again. Damn, and I thought my mother was bad…”

“She misses her baby boy,” I tell him, slapping my hand against his back. Shaking his head, Rick shrugs my hand off of him.

“Then you tell her that she can come deal with your whiney ass when you don’t get what you want.”

My eyes widen as I stare at him. “Are you insinuating that I act like a child? 

“Go.” He points at my truck before shaking his head and taking a few steps toward his. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

“
Ma
,” I yell, letting myself into the house without knocking. 

“
Kitchen
,” she yells from the back of the house. I really should have assumed that she was in there in the first place. Even if she isn’t cooking, it’s her normal hang out. Peeking my head around the corner, I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. There’s flour everywhere—the counters, the floor, her hair. Hell, it’s even down the back of her shirt.

“What the hell happened in here?”

Rushing away from the mess she’s created, she flings her arms around me, covering me in the flour that she’s wearing. “Oh, I’ve missed you, baby.”

As much as I love to be on stage in front of crowds and doing what I love, I love this more. To me, coming home means more than simply walking into a house. My house in L.A. is cold and unwelcoming. Coming home for me is having my mother’s arms wrapped around me and to be in her presence. No matter what is going on, she is the one person I have always been able to count on. Whether success is starting to go to my head, or I’m feeling defeated and want to quit because I’m so tired, she’s the one that makes it better. 

I press a kiss into her flour-covered hair and smile. As always, she smells like pie. Caramel apple pie. “Missed you too.”

She ushers me onto a stool without taking her eyes off of me. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home? It’s been months since you’ve been back. The least you could’ve done is given me a heads up so I could have cleaned up for you. The house is a mess, the pie isn’t done, and I have no clue what we’re going to have for dinner—”

“Mom,” I say, cutting her off with a laugh. “You’re rambling.”

She waves her hand at me. “Oh, hush now.”

“Mom, we talk on the phone a few times a week. You don’t need to try to fit everything going on into one breath every time you see me. Chances are you already told me about it anyway.”

After checking on the pie in the oven, she wipes her hands down the front of her apron and rolls her eyes. “You’re awfully sassy today, young man. Now quit being a twat and tell me what you’ve been up to.”

I choke on the water I’m drinking and cough until I can finally breathe. “Did you just call me a twat?”

“Mhm, yes, dear, I did.”

“Do you even know what a twat is, Mom?”

Resting her hands on her hips, she raises an eyebrow at me. “I’m not incompetent, Bennett. Would you rather me call you every other word I can think of that describes a pussy, or would you rather just bypass that whole awkward conversation and tell me what you’ve been up to?”

Well, OK then.

For the next hour, I tell her everything she wants to know and watch as she busies herself with cooking. I make no fuss when she hands me a knife and a bag of potatoes. Instead, without complaining, I peel and chop like I always did growing up. Talking with her while we wait for my sister to show up makes me realize how much I miss being at home.

But no matter how much I miss being at home and talking with my family, I can’t help the fact that I keep checking my phone. I don’t know when Izzy plans on calling to let me know what’s going on, but I don’t plan on missing a chance to talk to her.