Free Rock Angel (Rock Angel Series Book 1) by Jeanne Bogino

she’d seen no sign of its owner. She’d always been careful to conceal her address from him and she’d cancelled all her solo gigs, so it would be hard for him to track her down that way. Still, she experienced a twinge of unease every time she scraped a chunk off the rock.
    When she wasn’t dosing, she didn’t think about Jorge much because she was so focused on learning the new music. She loved playing with her talented bandmates, although Quinn’s coaching sessions were less enjoyable. They consisted of a grueling, repetitive series of voice exercises that went on and on. He worked with her in her bedroom, which was tiny. Quinn usually sprawled across her futon with a beer in his hand while Shan stood. Sometimes he made her sing with her hand over her abdomen to feel her breathing. Occasionally he had her play guitar while she sang. She had to practice the scales endlessly and it was torturous. Her throat was killing her by the end of every session.
    When she complained, his face took on the condescending sneer she was growing to hate. “It hurts because you’re singing in your throat. If you don’t learn to control that, you won’t have a voice left in a couple of years. You’ll burn it out. Now do it again, and pull it down into your chest this time.” And so it went, on and on.
    Band practice was much more pleasant most of the time. Quinn was still a tyrant, but at least there were three of them in his line of fire. She was the usual target for his abuse, but he jumped all over Dan and Ty, too, if he disapproved of something they did.
    At first she wondered why they tolerated it. Dan was an incredibly adept drummer and Ty’s intricate bass playing approached the level of a virtuoso. Why did they put up with him?
    Because he was invariably right, she discovered. No matter what musical debate erupted, he had an answer and could always back it up. Also, while the rest of them occasionally went flat or hit a wrong note, Quinn never did. He was always on pitch, on key, on time. It was uncanny.
    Once she asked Dan why no one ever challenged his decisions. There were four of them in the band, after all, but Quinn was unquestionably the leader. He always had the final word.
    “Well, it’s his band, technically,” Dan told her. “He formed it, named it, then handpicked the rest of us. And, musically speaking, Quinn is a genius. He plays keyboards, piano, and bass expertly, and drums and guitar well. You already know he’s a great singer, and you ought to hear him on hand percussion. He’s an awesome composer, too. He wrote all our originals.”
    She’d figured that out already, because she’d been barked at for suggesting minor changes to the arrangements on a couple of them. “I know he’s brilliant,” Shan said, “but he’s not willing to listen to anybody else and I can’t believe how mean he can be.”
    An unpleasant incident had occurred at practice that day. She’d been searching for a particular high note and she’d scooped, her voice wavering uncertainly. Scooping was one of Quinn’s pet peeves and he’d swooped on her.
    “You sound like a reamed-out sow squealing an orgasm,” he’d snarled. “If I wanted a hack, I’d have at least gotten one old enough to get in the clubs without a hassle. You’re supposed to be a professional. You’d better start sounding like one,” he’d concluded in a threatening tone.
    She’d gone white-faced as both Ty and Dan turned on Quinn in a chorus of indignation. He’d backed off sullenly, but she’d been shaken and sang badly for the rest of the day, quaking every time he looked in her direction. “It was so humiliating,” she moaned to Dan later. “And what if he decides he wants me out? I’ll be screwed. I gave up all my other gigs, and you and Ty always go along with whatever he says.”
    Dan was quick to reassure her. “That won’t happen. First of all, we don’t always let him have the last word and, secondly, he’s really impressed