Read Online Wild Card: Boys of Fall by Mari Carr - Free Book Online Page A

the business and knew how it worked—about Trent’s lack of talent. In fact, it was highly unprofessional for him to continue this conversation.
    Of course, punching his lead singer hadn’t exactly put him in contention for Employee of the Month.
    Glen decided fuck it. Might feel good to get some of this pent-up Trent aggression off his chest. And Lorelie didn’t strike him as the type to sell his story to a tabloid. Something told him she’d be a good listener. Maybe even a sympathetic one. He wasn’t one to want pity, but he wouldn’t mind a little petting if it was Lorelie doing the stroking.
    “He’s got the right look and he can shake his ass with the best of them onstage. The studio can fake the rest.”
    “On the recordings, sure. But how can they fake it during concerts?”
    Glen blew out a frustrated sigh. “Depends on the venue. Sometimes he lip-syncs, sometimes they turn his mic down low and mine up high. I drown him out.”
    “No way.” She didn’t say anything for a few minutes, but he could see the wheels turning. When she finally did speak, she surprised him. Something very few people were capable of nowadays. He’d grown too jaded for shock.
    “You must hate that.”
    She hit the nail on the head. Despite his fascination for her, her words were surprising, considering neither of them knew each other very well.
    “What do you mean?” he asked, wondering if she’d interpreted it the way he thought.
    “You strike me as a serious musician, Glen. You don’t half-ass it and you don’t fake it. Why would you work for someone who does?”
    Now it was his turn to go quiet. Mainly because he didn’t have a fucking clue why. Well, actually, he knew all the reasons he’d been telling himself lately. But he was almost embarrassed to say them out loud. They painted him in a shallow, mercenary light.
    “He’s one of the biggest names out there right now.”
    Lorelie didn’t respond to that, didn’t seem to consider that an answer.
    “I’m at the height of my career in terms of earnings and name recognition. The studio is paying me a hell of a lot of money for my guitar playing and my singing.”
    And my babysitting.
    He didn’t add that part.
    “I’ve heard both. You’re obviously the true talent in the band. So why is he the star?”
    Wade had asked him the same thing. And his answer was going to be the same. No matter how screwed up he was, the only thing Glen had ever known, had ever accepted about himself, was that he did not crave the limelight. In fact, he hated it.
    “There’s too much bullshit attached to being the one front and center, Lori. When they put that spotlight on you, it stops being about the music. All the studio cares about is image and dollar signs. Rugged, aging cowboys aren’t the rage anymore. No one’s racing out to sign the Merle Haggards or the Willie Nelsons these days. Right now, it’s all about fitting that sex-symbol, six-pack, make-the-girls-melt mold. That ain’t me.”
    She narrowed her eyes, looking confused. “You’re kidding, right? You’re about a million times hotter than Trent Maxwell. And a gazillion times more talented. I’ve never bought a Trent Maxwell song. I’d buy every one of yours.”
    Right then and there, Glen decided he wanted to write Lorelie Carr a song.
    He wasn’t much of a songwriter. It wasn’t that he’d never tried. He had. Wade had even recorded one of his songs once and included it on an album. It hadn’t gotten a ton of airplay, but they’d pulled it out every now and then at a concert and the true fans had sung along.
    Lorelie’s support of him, her belief in his talent, went a long way toward soothing some edges that had gotten rougher ever since he’d signed on to play with Trent.
    He glanced around the room and caught more than a few pairs of eyes on him. While Wade only had eyes for his wife as they danced, the same didn’t hold true for Oakley and Joel, who were helping Sadie man the bar tonight. Or