Black Lilith: Book One (Black Lilith #1) Read Online Free Page B

stuff.”
    “Thank you! That’s so nice to hear,” Tommy says. He seems genuinely pleased with the praise. “You’ll probably learn more about music if you’re going to be traveling with us.”
    “I suppose,” Mikayla replies.
    The swearing and grunting stops. Logan jumps up onto his feet, his hair a mess and his shirt in disarray. She looks from his heaving chest to his flushed cheeks and wants to smack herself.
    “Okay… next set in twenty,” he says, before turning on his heels without another word and leaving the green room.
    Dash sits up on the floor and glares at his retreating form. He shouts, “Don’t you dare light up a joint before our next set,” but Logan is already gone. So he pushes himself off of the floor and drops down onto the couch next to Mikayla. “Hi,” he says.
    “Hi,” she replies.
    “You gonna drink that?” he asks, pointing at her beer.
    She hands it to him, and he downs half the bottle in one gulp. Tommy reaches over the side of the couch and grabs his bass, settling it in his lap and absently plucking at the strings. It should be uncomfortable sitting on the lumpy couch, being squeezed between a sweating man on one side and with the neck of Tommy’s bass resting across her stomach on the other. But for some reason, Mikayla relaxes into the cushions. She lets Tommy’s music wash over her.
    “That’s nice,” she says.
    Tommy smiles softly. “Thank you.”
    Dash finishes the beer and belches, completely ruining the mood. “Tommy writes most of our songs,” he says.
    She turns her head to look at Tommy properly. “Really?”
    “We all pitch in,” Tommy replies, the tops of his cheekbones going pink as he avoids her eyes and focuses on the strings beneath his fingers.
    “We shout encouragement while Tommy makes magic happen,” Dash corrects him. “I’ll throw in a sick riff and Logan might change some of the lyrics but… like, ninety-eight percent of the songs are Tommy’s masterplan.”
    “No kidding?” Mikayla asks. “That first song? The one you opened with? Was that you?”
    Tommy nods, his lips curling into a thin smile. “I wrote that for Logan,” he says. “ Stray Ink , that’s what it’s called.”
    “Is it on iTunes? I’d love to download it,” Mikayla tells him. And not, she adds in her mind, because it will remind her of Logan’s dancing every time she hears it.
    “Don’t bother… I’ll send you the files,” Dash says.
    They fall into a pleasant, comfortable silence with Tommy still plucking at his bass while Dash pulls the label off of the beer bottle and tears it up into thin strips. She wonders what her mother will say when she tells her that she took a job as a band’s personal assistant. That she’s using her degree in event management to shepherd musicians. She’d been on the fence about this job, but now that she’s met the band, she thinks that she could happily work with them. And not just because of the pay.
    Logan might be kind of—confusing, and Slate is a—hound, but he seems to have a good heart, and she couldn’t imagine going back on her word and disappointing him. Tommy is a sweetheart and Dash is adorable in the way that only little brothers can manage. At least, that’s what she assumes. Mikayla is an only child, so her experience with younger brothers is limited.
    “By the way,” she says. “I’ve never been a personal assistant before. I’ve also never been on tour. And I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I don’t know much about music. I can’t think of anyone less qualified for this job.”
    Tommy watches her with his warm brown eyes over his guitar. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Slate wouldn’t have offered you the job if he didn’t think you could do it.”
    “Really? Because when we met he caught me talking to myself and thought I was a groupie.”
    Dash snorts. “Yeah, but lots of people think you’re a groupie.”
    She shoves him in the shoulder, and he tosses his beer label shreds at her,