Pretty Little Hellion (Rocker Universe: Pretty Little #3)

1. Hayat

Chapter One

Hayat

Pulse racing, I watched as four men carried pieces of my drum set off the elevator and placed them by the door to the studio. I didn’t want strangers in Autumn’s Slumber’s sanctuary. So, the movers were only unloading my gear by the door, and then my granddads and I could take it from there.

Pop-Pop and Poppy had hired them to move my equipment from Malibu to Sunset Place. Every step they took made me anxious. These strangers were responsible for getting my babies from my parents’ house to the practice studio on the floor below the penthouse apartment in Carver Towers.

Standing back, I kept my arms wrapped around myself, my lips pressed in a hard line so I didn’t scream or physically attack the men carrying my most precious possessions.

Pop-Pop stood beside me, laughing quietly as he watched me watch the movers. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. These guys know what they’re doing. I wouldn’t let them touch anything if I didn’t trust them.”

“I should have just rented a truck and moved it all myself,” I muttered. Someone set my bass drum down too hard, and I whimpered. “I’m getting an ulcer. I can already feel it festering. It’s going to pop a hole in my stomach. If I start puking blood, make sure it doesn’t get on the equipment. Remember my blood type just in case they need to give me a transfusion.”

“Since we share the same blood type, I think you will be fine if you need a donor,” Pop-Pop soothed, his amusement not helping to calm my nerves.

“Isn’t there a thing about immediate family members being unable to donate blood to each other? It increases the risk of graft-versus-host disease,” I schooled my grandfather.

“Are you bullshitting me?” he asked skeptically.

“No. It’s totally a thing. Learned it in a science class in high school when we were covering blood types. Lucky for us, we’re O negative, which is the universal donor type. We should donate to a blood bank,” I suggested, trying to keep my mind off what the movers were doing so I didn’t lose my shit on someone and throw them down the elevator shaft. “They are always low on O negative since it is the safest to use in an emergency.”

His face turned a little green. Despite being covered in ink, Devlin Cutter wasn’t a fan of medical needles of any kind. Shots, IVs, blood work, they all made him a little dizzy to watch. Not blood itself, unlike Shane, who got physically sick at the sight of another person’s blood. Just the needle in general going into a person made Pop-Pop queasy. The big baby. “Or, and I like this idea better, we don’t do anything that might potentially cause either of us to need a transfusion and therefore not waste the stock the blood banks currently have.”

I pressed a hand to my stomach, where it was already roiling and churning. “Then why are we letting strangers carry around my babies like they aren’t the most precious things in the whole wide world? Because, one hundred percent, this is giving me indigestion that feels like a legit ulcer brewing that will then turn into a popped hole in my stomach, and I’ll then have to undergo emergency surgery and lots of blood transfusions.”

“I seriously don’t know where you get this overdramaticness from.” Shaking his head, he crossed to a box that was labeled as my recording gear. Cameras. Wires. Wall mounts. I’d completely cleaned out my studio that I’d had in my parents’ house.

Mom and Dad had both been at work, which wasn’t a coincidence. I wasn’t ready to answer the very obvious questions they were dying to ask. Like, what did it mean that I’d removed my prized drums and recording gear from the studio I’d set up in their house years ago?

Because I didn’t know the answer to that extremely loaded question. At least, not the in-depth answer they would expect.

For the moment, I was going with, I was Autumn’s Slumber’s drummer and therefore needed my gear where I would be practicing with my band. I wasn’t a fan of Hamel’s drum set. He hadn’t taken very good care of it, and I’d felt a little homicidal as I’d practiced with it when we prepared for the first show at my dad’s club this Thursday.

It totally didn’t mean I was moving in with my boyfriends. That they had given me my own room, which Jamie had worked so hard to make perfect, was beside the point. Having a room in someone else’s home didn’t mean anything.

Technically, I had my own room at Kin and Jace’s house too, although I’d never actually used it. Abi and I always bunked together when I was over there. Same with when she stayed with me. And I had a room at both sets of my grandparents’ homes. Did I live with any of them? Nope.

There was no need to complicate things and put a label on me spending the occasional night at Carver Towers.

Every night.

I’d been spending every night there. But that had just been since Abi’s wedding on Saturday. It was only Wednesday. A few consecutive nights at their apartment did not mean I was making their home my primary residence.

Yet.

That was what Jamie said every time the topic came up. I wasn’t labeling it as my primary residence yet . And then he would usually stop any more conversation on the subject by putting his mouth somewhere on my body, making it impossible to argue with him.

I didn’t tell him I was moving my drums into the practice studio today. Sparks and Ky weren’t aware of that little—ginormous—detail either. They’d all still been asleep when I’d slipped out of bed early that morning and drove to Malibu. As far as I knew, they were still in bed since it wasn’t even noon.

Picking up the box, Pop-Pop waited for me to open the studio door so he could carry my recording gear inside. By the time Poppy helped the movers unload the last of the boxes outside the door, we had everything else stacked up and ready to unbox inside.

Poppy shook the men’s hands, slipping them each a tip for their careful work. The fact that I was side-eyeing every man when he said “careful” went over everyone’s head. Apparently the male definition of careful did not match mine.

Two hours later, my drums were perfectly set up. Oddly enough, there was no damage to any of my equipment, which was a relief. I had been tempted to call Abi if any piece had so much as a tiny scratch on it and ask her to send her husband to deal with the movers. For all of five minutes, while I’d still been unwrapping the protective bubbles from my precious drums, holding my breath as I revealed each item, I’d contemplated texting Sammy and asking her for a little favor.

Now that I had two powerful connections into the underworld, I needed to temper the urge to put anyone who pissed me off on a kill list. I had no doubt Sammy would take care of anyone I asked her to…eliminate. And all it would take for Vaughn to do my bidding was for Abi to pout her lip at him. One itty-bitty tremble of her chin and he would burn the world down for her.

Snickering at the homicidal thoughts that flitted through my head, I used the power drill to mount one of my cameras in the corner that would get the perfect angle of my drums without exposing me from the chest up. Once it was in place, I used my laptop to confirm the angle and then moved to the next camera.

“What are you using at the club?” Poppy asked as he sat on the couch on the other side of the studio with Pop-Pop, the two of them relaxing after helping me unbox and set up my drum set earlier. I’d gone upstairs to get us some refreshments and to check on my guys, but they had still been snoring.

None of us were morning people, but Ky would normally have been up by now. He liked to get in his workouts during the morning, while Sparks and Jamie tended to go down to the gym much later in the day.

“I have a few sponsors who are replacing some of the gear already there, but what Dad has will do for now.” Using my forearm to wipe at the sweat on my forehead, I adjusted the wall mount so it was even and then finished securing it.

“So you’re done with those thoughts of having that Atticus kid take over as the band’s drummer?” Pop-Pop asked. He was stretched out on his end of the couch, feet crossed over each other, arms folded on his stomach, head leaning against the back cushion. He looked at home in my band’s space, and it brought a smile to my face as I watched him and Poppy for a few moments.

“Atticus found his forever band,” Poppy informed his friend before I could answer. “Emmie told me that he auditioned for another band a few days after the one at the club, and they snatched him up in a heartbeat. A video of them rehearsing went viral, and Emmie locked them down. Shane has them scheduled to record their first single next week.”

“When is Autumn’s Slumber getting in there to record?” Pop-Pop muttered, pulling out his phone. When he started texting, I figured it was Nana he was talking to. His brows pulled together as he read the reply he received. “Hayat, why haven’t you confirmed the schedule?”

Shrugging, I moved to the next camera. Using a laser leveler, I made sure everything was perfect before I started drilling. “I wasn’t aware there was a schedule to confirm. No one has mentioned recording time or even social media plans since…” I waved a hand in the air. “All that Maddie shit.”

Pop-Pop grunted, but I didn’t turn to look at him. This thing between Maddie and me was pushing at his loyalty to both his granddaughters. Maddie might have been adopted by my aunt, but my grandparents considered her, Banks, and Avalyn as much their grandchildren as Evan and me. They didn’t play favorites, no matter what the situation was, always making sure we all knew how much we were loved by them.

But that didn’t mean they didn’t have opinions on things. And I was sure they had a lot of opinions on my current situation with my cousin. I wasn’t even going to ask what they thought about me with my three rockers. I’d never been the type of person to be afraid to say what was on my mind, but there were times when silence spoke louder than any words could.

“You’re going to be recording on Friday. Shane blocked off the entire afternoon for Autumn’s Slumber. You four either show up, or I drag your asses down to ASM. We clear?”

Turning my upper body while staying steady on the ladder I was using, I double-clicked the trigger on the drill. “A simple email letting me know when would have been just as effective. Since no one thought to send me one, I’ll add your summons to my digital calendar.”

“Your Nana thought you already knew,” he excused.

“I haven’t spoken to her since before everything got crazy,” I informed him, turning back to double-check my work. Trying my damnedest to ignore the sting that was somewhere in the vicinity of my heart that Nana hadn’t reached out to me for anything since all the Maddie bullshit. Not even to ask how I was doing. “Not her or Aunt Trinny. Definitely haven’t talked to Maddie.”

He blew out a heavy breath. “They’ve been busy getting Maddie into therapy. She’s been resistant to going back into treatment. Things have been tense.”

I forced myself not to stiffen at the new information about Maddie. I felt sick to my stomach, thinking about the dark places her mind could take her. But I also knew that no one could help her unless she allowed them to. That was something we’d all learned the hard way the last time. Almost too late. If Banks hadn’t been home that day…