Black Lilith: Book One (Black Lilith #1) by Hazel Jacobs Page A

point, covering up his chuckles as much as he can. Mikayla’s having trouble keeping a straight face while listening to his stifled laughter right next to her.
    “That’s great, Mama. Very forward thinking.”
    “You’re being sarcastic.”
    “I’m being perfectly serious,” Mikayla replies. “I’ve actually got to go, though. Band meeting. We’ve got a big day today.”
    “What was this band’s name again?” her mother asks. “I’ll look them up on the Google.”
    “ Black Lilith ,” Mikayla answers.
    “Are they into devil worship?”
    “Bye, love you!”
    She hastily hangs up before her mother can start telling her about subliminal messages in rock music. As soon as the call is over, Tommy finally unleashes the laughter that he had been courageously holding in. Mikayla joins him, and she’s glad that the breakfast room is deserted, or they would probably have drawn some strange looks.
    When they finally get a hold of themselves, Tommy has to wipe tears from his eyes.
    “Your mom sounds nice,” he says.
    “Careful,” she says. “If she hears you speaking so fondly of her she might make you husband number six.”
    “Even if I’m a musician?” asks Tommy.
    “Allowances could be made,” she replies, giving him a once-over. “You’d look good in a suit. Australia has a politician who used to be a rock star.”
    “Yeah… Peter Garret,” Tommy responds. “Fronted Midnight Oil , didn’t he? I don’t think I have the leading man edge.”
    “Don’t say that. You’d make a wonderful trophy husband.”
    They sank into laughter again. Mikayla is beginning to think that touring with Black Lilith will involve a lot of laughter. A lot of fighting, probably, and definitely a lot of stress, but with a lot of laughter at its core. She looks down at her immaculate outfit, then back at Tommy’s rumpled flannel and floppy, curly hair, and wonders if she should consider loosening up a bit more in her wardrobe.
    Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.
    She wants to be an events manager. This job—this PA position—is just something she’s doing for the money, and because it is better than the job she’d had, and because the economy is in shambles. Mikayla isn’t about to start walking around in tank tops and jeans while she still has hope that she will put that degree to good use. Even if the band— most of the band, she reminds herself—has welcomed her, she has never wanted to be a personal assistant. That isn’t her goal. She can’t allow herself to become side-tracked from her goals.
    “Everything okay?” Tommy asks. She looks over to see him watching her with a thoughtful expression. “You got really quiet just now.”
    “Did you always want to be a musician?” she asks.
    He looks surprised at the question and takes a thoughtful bite of eggs before answering, “Honestly? I guess? I don’t know. I’ve been doing this since I was in high school.”
    “You never dreamed of being something… else?” She almost says ‘something more,’ but she doesn’t want to offend him.
    “When I was younger, I wanted to be a dinosaur,” he says matter-of-factly. “A velociraptor, to be specific.”
    “They’re pretty badass,” Mikayla says.
    Tommy waves his hand dismissively. “They’re chickens with claws, the movies got them totally wrong. Anyway, I guess I never really gave much thought to jobs and stuff. I figured that I’d work it out as I went along, you know? Then I got to high school, and Slate read some of my poems over my shoulder. He decided that I’d make a good edition to the band, but I didn’t play any instruments. So he set me up with a bass and some YouTube tutorials.”
    “Slate just collects people, doesn’t he?”
    “He hasn’t been wrong yet,” Tommy says, giving her a significant look. “What about you? Did you always want to be in event management?”
    Mikayla opens her mouth to answer, but the words escape her. She isn’t sure when she decided on