Rising West: A Turner Artist Rocker Novel (The Turner Artist Rocker Series Book 1)

by Alyson Santos

  “Still want to discuss business?” she whispers against my ear, clearly showing off her skills at working something else. I help her yank off my shirt and we come back together for a hard kiss. She grips my hair and sinks down on my hips. I bite back a groan at her warning look.

  “We can’t wake the others,” she gasps out. She’s loving this, isn’t she, but soon she’s out of words as well. Yeah, five days is too long for us to be apart. I force us around until she’s on her back, relishing the desperate look on her face. I’m obsessed with her expression when we’re together.

  “Mason?” she breathes out.

  “Yeah?”

  I clench my fist to keep quiet, nearly impossible when my body wants to explode at the image of her stifled cries. When we finish, I balance over her, feeling pretty damn proud of myself for playing the stealth game so well.

  “What’s up, babe?” I say, studying the glint in her eyes from the reflection of the single nightlight.

  She blinks, suddenly looking shy. I brush a kiss on her nose and move to pull out, but she stops me. Curling her arms around my shoulders, she tugs me down into a tight embrace instead. Her fingers comb through my hair in a gentle rhythm as we lie entwined on the couch.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” I ask. I relax a little when I catch part of her smile.

  “Nothing. In fact…” She sucks in a deep breath, and I adjust so I can clearly see her face in the shadows. “Mason, is it okay that I’m in love with you?”

  My heart bursts in my chest. Speechless, I can only stare at her with a mixture of relief and awe. I trace her lips, considering all that she is, all I’ve become, and all we could be together.

  “Depends,” I say finally. “Is it okay with you that you’re the second love of my life?”

  She smiles, cupping her palm on my cheek. “Of course. I know Katrina will always be part of your life.”

  I nod and kiss her. “True. But actually, I was talking about Brooklyn.”

  Her perfect lips spread into a grin. “Only if it’s okay that she might be my first love, too.”

  “You ready, dude?”

  I shoot a smile to Aaron who’s little more than a silhouette in the backstage lighting. Mitch bounces on his heels, flexing his hands, while Tivo pumps himself up with a harder than usual scowl.

  “So here’s the deal,” Liberty says, raising her voice over the electric hum of the crowd. They know it’s almost time. They’ve done the math. Most of them have been to enough shows to realize the crew’s had ample time to get us set up after the opening act. “We’re going out first. Let us get set. Then you come out and be all super-confident rock god, got it?”

  I swallow and nod. Still seems absurd that they’d structure this entire opening sequence around me. I’m just Mason, father of Brooklyn West, renter of a three-bedroom apartment, driver of a used—

  “Yo, West.”

  I blink down at Liberty who’s tugging at my arm. Her face is close enough now that I can see her expression soften in the dim lights. “You okay? What’s up?”

  A roar spreads through the room when the house music comes down and gives way to the chill-inducing intro of our theatrical entrance music.

  “They said we were done,” a filtered, almost electronic voice warns over the drone of a synthetic bassline and the chug of staccato cellos.

  “They said our fire had been contained.”

  The crowd’s reaction is deafening as the rest of the band pushes past me. I feel their energy as they pass and soak it up when they slap my back in encouragement.

  “You got this,” Aaron mouths. Mitch nods with a wink and follows him to the stairs.

  “They said our flame had been extinguished.” The programmed voice in the track continues over the growing rumble of the music.

  Only Liberty remains with me at the base of the steps. The rest are already near the top, waiting for their cue.

  She pulls my head down and, with a quick kiss, she shouts, “Trust yourself. Go kill it!”

  “Can you blame them for not believing?”

  Suddenly, the music stops.

  “They’ve never seen a phoenix before.”

  The band rushes the stage as the arena explodes with music and lights. The heavy drive of our opening track, “Phoenix,” blasts through the house, and I move to the top step, clinging to the railing and bouncing on my toes.

  In ten… nine… eight…

  Funny, I’ve been chasing the sun for so long, I never considered the fact that I might be something else.

  Seven… six…

  Beauty from the ashes.

  Five… four…

  Radiance from the shadows.

  Three… two…

  A phoenix.

  With a deep breath, I take the last step onto the riser.

  One.

  The arena ignites when they see me. A sea of adoration screams and undulates as far as I can see. Out and up into the horizon of the mezzanine, it extends in an infinite circle of fire.

  I lift my arms to an all-out explosion of cheers that rocks the foundation beneath us. I shoot Liberty an exhilarated grin and let it settle back on the endless ocean of fans. Thousands of glowing faces, desperate, like me. Hungry for the music and a reason to believe. Pleading to be swept up into a painted sky we all share in this incredible moment.

  “Yo, Dallas!” My greeting is met with a deafening roar even my custom in-ears can’t block out. “I’m Mason West, and we are Burn Card!”

  They say the sun rises in the east.

  Says.

  Fucking.

  Who.

  “Hell, yeah!” Mitch cries. Even the shape of Tivo’s mouth resembles a smile as we navigate the maze of underground hallways to the green room. Aaron is practically jumping the entire way, while shouting something food-related of course. Liberty tucks her arm around my waist, grinning up at me with a look that has my already-charged blood on full alert.

  “How’s it feel, rock star?” she hums.

  “Pretty damn good,” I reply. She locks her other arm around me so we’re one body as we walk. I kiss her hair and tighten her to me. “Also, hot as hell. I’m drenched, sorry,” I add, laughing.

  “Yeah, and it’s ridiculously sexy.” The glint in her eyes has me right back in the secluded bus lounge. How long until we can be alone again?

  I’m about to ask when we enter the green room and freeze. The excited chatter stops, Aaron curses, and Liberty tenses beside me. The stage adrenaline chills in my blood, sending my stomach twisting at Sam’s stern expression.

  Her gaze locks on me, and I notice the folder of official-looking documents in front of her.

  “Hey, Mason. Sorry to do this now, but can we talk for a moment?”

  I can’t look at Liberty as I straighten out of her grasp and take a step forward.

  “Sure,” I say, my heart pounding in my chest. What is this? Of course my night couldn’t end in the clouds. Of course life would have to send me crashing back to Earth before I have a chance to enjoy the view.

  “I’m sorry to do this here, but it’s better that we don’t wait.”

  I eye the folder on the table and watch helplessly as she starts to remove the contents. Page after page of words that I can’t begin to guess, let alone process, pile up between us. What have I done? What have I lost?

  She draws in a deep breath and clears her throat. “Mason, after much discussion, the band has decided that your current contract is no longer working for them.”

  I almost choke. “What?”

  My hands start to shake, the bottom falling out beneath me. I cast a confused look to Liberty but I can’t read her face. She averts her eyes, and I have no choice but to focus back on Sam.

  “Wow. Okay. That’s…” God, I can’t breathe.

  “I hope you understand that your contract was always intended to be a temporary agreement,” Sam continues.

  “No, I mean, yeah. I just…” I massage my forehead, trying to pull myself toge
ther. What the hell is happening right now? I thought… Did we all just play a different show? Because I thought we just created magic.

  “It’s not personal, Mason,” Sam says.

  “I mean, it kind of is,” Liberty adds. I snap my gaze to hers in shock. Wait, is she snickering? What the hell?

  “Geez, don’t you think you’ve tortured him enough?” Aaron mutters, glaring at his sister. “It was her idea,” he says to me, holding up his hands. “Payback for the Sizzle Party stunt.”

  “Huh?” Now, I’m totally confused. I glance back at Liberty who’s come around to my front. She takes my hands and searches my eyes.

  “Liberty, what’s going on? What is this? I thought… My contract isn’t working for you?”

  “No.” She blinks a few times, silent for a moment before clenching her eyes shut. “Sorry, you know how I get stupid when I look at you.” Suddenly, a smile stretches over her lips. A real one. No teasing, no filter. She looks at me again, her eyes full of everything I felt a moment ago. Everything I thought we had. “No, it’s not working, Mason.”

  She swipes the pile off the table and shoves it into my chest. “Because we all agree that we’re not doing this without you, so sign these damn papers and become a full, equal member of the band.”

  Aaron grins and flips a pen toward me. “Sign them, bro.”

  Mitch is laughing as Tivo cracks a smirk.

  Hot, cold, and shaking from the whirlwind of the last two hours, it’s a miracle I’m still standing when I finally turn my attention back to Sam. Her face has transformed from severe into radiant as she steps toward me with open arms.

  “Welcome to the Turner Artist family, Mason West. We’re honored to have you.”

  The end.

  Continue reading for a preview of FALLING NORTH, Book 2 of the Turner Artist Rocker Series. View on Amazon.

  ORIGINAL SONG

  Experience the original song, “Says Who,” available for streaming on YouTube and Spotify.

  For more on the performing band Acoustic Pursuit:

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  Website

  “SAYS WHO”

  Written by Alyson Santos and Christian Lopez

  Performed by Acoustic Pursuit

  Copyright © 2019 by Alyson Santos and Christian Lopez

  All Rights Reserved

  Who says the stars just own the night

  Who says the moon controls the tide

  Who says the waves hit breaking height

  Who says

  Who says the past can’t be replaced

  Who says that scars can’t be erased

  Who says a chance can come too late

  Who says

  They say believe what you can see

  They say it’s only in your dreams

  They say the sun always rises in the east

  Says who

  It’s you who makes it rise for me

  Just prove your sun is more than destiny

  When it’s all said and done

  They’ll say we were the ones to make it move

  Don’t say you can’t begin again

  Don’t say that time can’t be a friend

  Don’t say you’ve lost your only chance

  Who says

  There’s so much they will never see

  Reserved for those who dare to dream

  So stop the sun from rising in the east

  Says who

  It’s you who makes your destiny

  Just move the sun is yours to be set free

  When it’s all said and done

  They’ll say we were the ones who made it move

  There’s so much more still left to see

  Keep chasing all those broken dreams

  Don’t stop until the sun is asking you

  Says who

  MORE FROM ALYSON

  Alyson Santos is a writer, musician, and cat lover. You will find evidence of her obsession with music in most of her books. Have you faced the music in these emotional and powerful stories about finding the light in the darkness? Explore love in a new way by checking out these other titles by Alyson. Happy reading!

  THE TUNRER ARTIST ROCKER SERIES

  Available on Kindle Unlimited

  RISING WEST

  FALLING NORTH

  THE NSB ROCKER SERIES

  Available on Kindle Unlimited and audiobook.

  NIGHT SHIFTS BLACK (NSB #1)

  TRACING HOLLAND (NSB #2)

  VIPER (NSB #3)

  LIMELIGHT (NSB #4)

  AN NSB WEDDING (NSB #5)

  STANDALONES

  Available on Kindle Unlimited.

  YOUNG LOVE

  TRAITOR (TWISTED FATE #1)

  HAUNTED MELODY

  HIGH TIDE

  STAY IN TOUCH

  Thank you for taking this journey with me. I would love to hear from you! For updates, reveals, and more subscribe to my newsletter and join my fun, laidback reader group on Facebook: Aly’s Breakfast Club.

  Alyson Santos

  PO Box 577

  Trexlertown, PA 18087-0577

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  Website: http://www.alysonsantos.com/

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  Excerpt from FALLING NORTH

  A Tuner Artist Rocker Novel

  by Alyson Santos

  Copyright © 2020 by Alyson Santos

  All Rights Reserved

  CHAPTER 1

  XANDER

  Crash! Clatter! Crunch!

  I cringe at the commotion coming from the hotel bathroom.

  “Ah, shit.”

  “You okay, bro?” I call out from my nest on the bed. Laptop, guitar, phone, bag of gummy worms—I’d be good for a week like this. Too bad my writing session will be interrupted in twenty minutes by some lame-ass label party. Sooner than twenty, if we count all the distractions in the other part of this room.

  “I’m fine. It’s this stupid—ahh!”

  I close my laptop with a grunt and slide off the mattress. Crossing to the bathroom, I brace myself for a visual on the primadonna’s progress. I swear, I’ve never seen the dude try so hard on anything. If he put half this effort into our music we’d already be doing stadium tours.

  Kind of wish I hadn’t investigated when I find my brother half-naked and leaning into the mirror at an ungodly angle.

  “What the hell are you doing? And why aren’t you dressed? You were a minute ago.”

  He glares over at me and—is he wearing eyeliner?

  “The tux looks stupid. I’m not wearing it.”

  “You have to, Matty. Look, I am.” I wave up and down my penguin suit and, gotta say, his smirk is not a confidence-booster.

  “Yeah ya are,” he says with a snicker.

  “Shut up,” I mutter. “What is all this anyway? You expecting some model agencies to be recruiting tonight? Should I be looking for a new lead singer?”

  “Fuck. A. You,” he says, with all the eloquence of a 19th century oil baron. Oh look, I even get a fancy twirl of a middle finger. He focuses back on whatever masterpiece his hair is supposed to be, and I relax my critique at the flash of uncertainty on his face. “Lydia will be there tonight.”

  Ahh, now it makes sense. Maybe I feel badly for giving him a hard time—and then I notice he not only has his entire toiletry bag scattered over the bathroom surfaces, but mine as well. Yeah, no.

  “Lydia is that girl from the meet-and-greet you’ve been hung up on?”

  He rolls his eyes at my feigned ignorance. As if I don’t know he’s been checking his phone constantly since they met a week ago. Maybe I’m evil, but to see my brother—the quintessential player—whi
pped to his phone like a teenager has been pretty damn hilarious.

  “You got her number right?”

  “Kind of. Not from her.”

  “But you messaged her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  There’s the atomic glare only reserved for the love of a brother. “She said ‘Thanks for the text. It was great meeting you too.’ Then, nothing.”

  Ouch. At least she’s polite? I keep that feedback to myself. “Hmm. Well, she’s probably been busy.”

  He shrugs and turns back to the mirror. Why is he insisting on making himself look like a totally different person? An ember of anger starts to burn deep, an ancient protectiveness I haven’t felt in a while. Watching him like this is giving me flashbacks of an insecure middle school kid who believed the taunts of his classmates, a high school kid who almost lost his life because of them.

  “Matty, if this girl doesn’t see how amazing you are, then she’s not worth your time.”

  He flinches, and that little boy returns in the mirror for a split second before being replaced by a confident, badass rocker adored by the masses.

  “Whatever. I’ll talk to her again tonight, and if she’s not into me, screw her. I’ll move on.”

  I smirk and lean against the doorframe. Not sure that’s the attitude I was going for, but I guess it beats watching him fold under the crushing weight of approval-seeking like old times. He used to be willing to do anything for a shred of acceptance. Can’t exactly blame the guy for soaking it in now that it’s dumped on him in a deluge. My baby brother was just named number fourteen on Songset Magazine’s list of the hottest up-and-coming rockers under twenty-three. Fourteen. In all of the music industry. Dude didn’t wear a shirt for five days after his now-famous torso went viral. For the record, it took all my willpower not to message F-U article links to every member of his high school class. “FYI: this is the kid you bullied to the point of implosion.”