He's not there. Her eyes scan the meeting room once more, peering over towards the leather couches positioned in the back of the room and the round table in the center. Hell, he's not even hiding out in any of the corners or near the refreshment table.
Ezra Moore couldn't be bothered to show up for the biggest meeting of her career. But why is she even surprised? Yet, Billie can't place the feeling weighing in her chest. It's a mix between disappointment and relief, as if she wants him to prove her wrong and right at the same time.
Her eyes meet a familiar pair of faces, and, for a moment, Billie is starstruck. They need no introduction. Grand Motel's greatest hits had been the music that followed her in the most formative years of her life. Still, she'd never admit how often she had their songs on repeat during her bus trip across the country or on her many subway commutes when she finally reached New York.
Maybe she's prideful and stubborn for not giving them that kind of satisfaction, considering the boys had never really done anything to her or girlcrush. Showing gratitude and adoration may even go a longer way than indifference. Part of her even feels childish for punishing them for something out of their control.
Though she desperately wants to remain detached, it's difficult to stop the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as the two boys finally realize they're no longer alone. Ambrose, who stands a few good feet over the other, offers a quick nudge to alert the curly blonde that they've arrived. Jude nearly chokes on the muffin stuffed in his mouth, eyes bouncing from each girl until he finally lands on Billie.
"Hey," Jude coughs out, "I'm Jude. We, uh, didn't think you'd all be here for another fifteen."
"I'm Ambrose. Ezra will be here soon," the other says, as if already noting the palpable concern coming from the girls, "Jeff and him are in a bit of traffic." For a moment, Billie can feel the same worry radiating off the two of them. It becomes increasingly apparent that they aren't to blame and shouldn't be her enemies.
The girls go down the line introducing themselves, all offering quick hello's. The lead singer immediately notices the way Jude's eyes remain caught on Callie, though her guitarist barely recognizes his clear infatuation. Instead, Callie continues talking about chord progressions with him while Ambrose shows Daria a few pictures of his latest tattoos.
"Your artist's line work is insane," he compliments before pulling up the sleeve of his hoodie to show the ink swirling up his brown skin. "My girlfriend did a few of the stick n' pokes, but I usually go somewhere downtown."
"That one is sick," Daria points out a particularly well done set of numbers, "Tell your girlfriend she can tattoo me anytime. What's her name? I'll follow her."
"It's Skylar Aoki," he replies, "Here, let me give you her number. She'd love to meet you all."
"We should definitely have a session to go over technique," Jude offers while trying not to stumble over his words.
Callie barely notices his timid demeanor, far too invested in the conversation and humble to think anyone of his stature would be interested. "I would love that. Billie plays guitar too. Maybe she'd like to come."
"Oh, yeah. Of course," Jude offers with a short laugh. He looks over to see if Billie catches his momentary embarrassment, but she's far too mentally distant from the conversation to really notice.
"You name the time and place, and I'll be there," Billie offers with a smile before excusing herself to the refreshment table.
While she desperately wants to insert herself in the conversation, she just can't seem to relax. Her eyes constantly flicker between the group and the door, as if waiting for the lead singer like a lost puppy.
The anticipation of it all is nearly killing her because meeting Ezra Moore will make him actually real. Part of her wonders if the rumors are false, if he's just a troubled soul reaching out a hand and waiting for someone to grasp it. The other, wiser part of her knows enough about the world to understand that he isn't anything more but a washed up singer who let his ego get far too big.
"You're acting weird," Sloane points out before picking at one of the muffins at the table. "Stop staring at the door. It's not going to make him come any faster."
Billie can feel the heat rising in her cheeks, head whipping towards her friend. "I'm not acting weird or staring at the door."
"Yes you are." Now, Sloane has that same shit-eating grin on her face that she gets whenever she knows she's right.
"I just think it's rude to make us wait," she offers quietly, not wanting her comment to draw any unnecessary attention from the mingling group a few feet away, "He's lucky his manager is late too, otherwise I wouldn't believe that traffic excuse for a second."
"Dude, chill," Sloane snorts, "You're letting this guy get under your skin way too much, and you haven't even met him. Who gives a shit if he's late?"
As the femme moves to open her mouth for a witty retort, the door swings wide open. Jeff is the first to enter. He's a man in his mid forties, and fairly good looking for his age. His midnight black hair is slicked back, sharp frames resting on the bridge of his nose.
"Sorry we're late," Jeff announces to the room, immediately moving to offer a quick kiss on both of Monica's cheeks. All agents greeted each other that same utterly fake way. "You'd never believe the traffic. Horrible accident downtown, and we didn't move for what felt like hours."
Though Jeff takes up all the attention in the room, Billie keeps her eyes trained on the male figure that slinks in after his manager. He manages not to cause a scene, though his use of black sunglasses indoors is a little obscene. She reckons it's to conceal the bruising on his face, which is confirmed the minute he slides them off and reveals a swollen cheek and black eye.
Still, Ezra Moore has to be the most devastatingly handsome man she's ever seen, bruises and all. That notion makes her utterly sick to her stomach.
A cigarette remains tucked behind his ear, shoulders slumped as he barely looks up from his trained view of the floor. His demeanor is as clear as day: he does not want to be here. While Jeff drones on about the traffic, Billie begins to wonder if it's all a ruse to conceal the clear effort it took to get him here.
As she mentally works through all the ways he would've protested this meeting, the male begins to mindlessly make his way towards her and the refreshment table. Within moments, he's standing next to her. Hell, does he even know she's standing there too? She turns to look at Sloane, but the bassist is already halfway across the room chatting with Daria.
"Do you know where the coffee is?" Ezra questions, still focused on the refreshment table.
Billie pauses for a moment. She's never heard him speak before. He's softer than she had imagined, everything about him is much less jagged and rough than anticipated. "I, uh ... no," she stutters out.
"Well, would you be a dear for me and find me a cup?" He practically commands, and whatever veil Ezra Moore momentarily had on slips right off.
Billie can't help but let out a scoff. "Are you being serious?" Her question catches him off guard, cold eyes finally looking up from the table to meet hers. He practically towers over her, so much so that he nearly has to shift his view down towards her direction. "Do you not know who I am?"
It's Ezra's turn to scoff, features hardening as he barely contemplates her question. "I assume you're the coffee girl," he replies dismissively, before rubbing at his temples, "and a very bad one at that."
"Next time you want to show up to meet your opening act," she points out, "it might help to have an idea of who they might be."
She nearly rolls her eyes at his devilish grin. What a pompous asshole. He moves to open his mouth, but Monica interjects from the center of the room.
"Alright, everyone! Now that you've gotten acquainted, I think now is as good a time as any to go over the logistics for the tour," she explains, "The girls know how hard you've been preparing, and we're excited to be a part of it."
Her final statement causes a laugh to remain caught in Sloane's throat, though she manages a cough to cover it. Billie can't help the triumphant grin adorning her features. How hard could they really have been working with that prick as their lead singer?
Yet, the look on Jude and Ambrose's face wipes any hint of a grin away. For the second time at this meeting, she remembers that they may not be to blame. Their sheer look of disappointment is confirmation enough of that notion. For a moment, she even feels sorry for them.
"Yes, the boys have been preparing for this tour for months now," Jeff corroborates before his attention turns slightly to Ezra, "They should be very proud of themselves, and we're happy to have you on board."
It almost sounds like a threat, which, of course, Ezra nearly scoffs at.
"We think it's best if both groups continue the remainder of the preparation without distractions. The label has a few suites in the upper levels. We've rented them out until the tour begins. You'll all be staying here."