BWWM Romance: Crossing The Line: Interracial Romance / Wealthy Love Interest

Author:Aisha M. Taylor
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: BWWM Interracial Romance Publishing
Published: 2015-05-11T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

Virgil jumped out of his truck at the recording studio and breathed. Rain hung in the air, threatening to drench the city. The billowing clouds bordered the building like a dark curtain and suddenly, he wanted to go home. Instead, Virgil snatched his guitar out of the back and trudged his way inside.

It wasn’t sunny, but the building’s interior was dark and smoky, not having been updated since the late 1970s. Everything from the paint to the shag carpet came from that era. He wondered how much blood had soaked into the dark fiber over the years from drug overdoses and fistfights. He heard about stabbings and people getting bludgeoned over the head with awards. The place had a bad mojo, but they were the most affordable, quality recording studio in the state, and his band had an album to cut.

Shawna’s distance hadn’t improved his dark mood. She had dodged his affections that morning and practically ran out the door to get to her parents and another church function. He couldn’t help but wonder if she were running to Derick. The guy from her past. The one her parents liked. Virgil offered to cancel his studio appointment after Shawna said they would be doing some heavy lifting, but she declined. He watched her slip into a loose pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt. She didn’t hear a thing he said and he repeated himself. Asking her what was distracting her might have pushed her further away, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

The slow elevator ride gave him time to shake off his moodiness. His sensitive band mates would pick up on it instantly and they were already wary that he was dating again. It had gone over so well last time, he thought sarcastically.

The other four band members crowded the hallway, chitchatting. Virgil stepped off the elevator, overly aware of how heavy his black boots were. He could feel how every inch of his clothing touched his skin and it annoyed him. Nothing in the forefront of his mind indicated why he was so on edge.

“What’s up, Virg? You look like someone shot your dog,” Glen said. The rest of the band turned to see what he was talking about.

“Just trying to set the mood,” Virgil said, passing them. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“What’s the rush?” Glen smiled. He nudged Rodger with his elbow. “Girlfriend set a curfew?”

“Girlfriend?” Erika asked. “Since when?” She spun her drumstick between her fingers and leaned back against the wall. Her bleached-white hair fell in long waves down to her tiny, cinched waist. Her navy blue peasant’s top was open all the way down to the center of her cleavage, and her black leather-like leggings looked painted on. After Virgil’s breakup with Janet, the band agreed on one rule. No fucking other band members. And, as luck would have it, Erika was a lesbian.

“Is she hot?” Erika asked, flirtatiously biting her fake, black, sharpened to a point, fingernail.

“Oh no, guy,” Rob said, his English accent, muffled behind a soda bottle.

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