Fulcrum (Dark Tide Book 4)

by Max Henry

  “Pull that story.” I stride forward, all out of fucks on who overhears this. “Those are my words. It’s plagiarism.” They deserve to know what sort of jerk they work for.

  “I gave you the chance to own it. You refused.”

  “That doesn’t give you right to it.” Fuck, my face feels hot. “You can’t steal my work because I don’t agree to using it.”

  “But I can.” He folds his arms, lips twisted to one side. “While in my employment, your work is mine to own. I automatically assume copyright.”

  “You’d have to prove I wrote it in work time.” I narrow my gaze and call his bluff.

  He tosses his head back and laughs. “You want me to go that far? How likely do you think you are to win if you took this to small claims?”

  “You’re unprofessional and immoral.”

  Devon strides forward, leaning down to level our faces. “And you wrote the fucking thing, so who is the bigger asshole, Jeanie?”

  “Who wrote what?” Lenora steps forward, keen for an explanation.

  So, I give it to her. Not as though I have much left to lose. “I paid for access to Toby Thomas.” She nods. “He refused an interview, so I penned a revenge piece intending to force him to sit down with me. I had no intention of publishing it; it was bribery, pure, and simple.”

  “Girl,” she says with a sharp intake of breath.

  “I know.” I roll my eyes. “Not my finest hour. But this jackass.” I stab a finger toward an insolent Devon. “Got hold of it and decided we should move in the business of gossip. Of bullshit and lies.” I step up to him, pressed on my toes to be as much the same height as possible. “You put this out there, then that’s what the audience will expect of Better Beats. Juicy tidbits. Filthy hearsay about their idols.”

  “I put this out there,” he rumbles, “and I draw attention to Better Beats. What I publish after that is up to me. One article doesn’t set a precedent.”

  “No.” Lenora folds her arms. “But it tarnishes our reputation.”

  “If you’ve got an issue with it,” Devon snaps her way, “then you can line up behind Jeanie at the employment office.”

  “Are you threatening to fire me?” She can’t believe what she hears as much as I can’t.

  “I’m threatening to make you both redundant due to staff cutbacks.” Our boss returns to his office, pausing in the doorway to have the final word. “Anybody else want to question how I run this company?”

  The fucking chicken shits around me stay silent. Sheeple. I exchange a look with Lenora and shrug.

  “He won’t get away with it,” she offers.

  I glance at the jerk, settling behind his desk without a care in the damn world. “That’s the problem. I think he’d be cunning enough to figure out a way.”

  “Well.” She stands shoulder-to-shoulder with me. “Make sure you bring snacks for us. I’ve heard those lines are slow as fuck.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Toby

  “Sinners Grin” - Ivy

  We’re missing Kris’s guitars, and my kick pedals aren’t with the fucking bass drum. “Who the fuck packed this after the last show?”

  I pace around the studio storage again, Rick tapping his finger in the air while he silently mouths through his list, counting off the pieces.

  “You don’t need to double-check.” I rip open the road case my bass came out of. Empty. “You can trust me; they’re not there.”

  “He did organize for them to be shipped back to storage before he fucked off overseas, didn’t he?” Rick sets both hands on his head and heaves out a laden breath.

  “How the fuck would I know? He’s said as much to me while he’s been MIA as he has to you.”

  “We have one week to get everything here. Otherwise, we’ll need to get the ball rolling with replacements.”

  “You’re kidding, right.” I stride over to where he stands. “I can use a new kick pedal, but if Kris doesn’t have his mixed bag of Greek legends, then he’ll lose his shit.” The motherfucker gave all his guitars random-ass names like Uriel and Meta-something-or-another. You know, nothing simple like Bob and Mary. No. He had to go all complex on it.

  They’re his fucking children. It would be like showing up for a family portrait with somebody else’s kids. I don’t think Rick gets quite how serious this is.

  “I’ll give him a call shortly.”

  My phone is in my hands, message thread already open. “I’m on to it now, Ricky-Dick. I can drive to his and get them if need be.”

  “You’ve got keys to get in?”

  “I have a fist, and I’m pretty sure his place has glass.”

  Rick stares, silent.

  “What?” I’ll jack up a glazier to fix it after.

  I fire off the message to Kris a fraction of a second before a notification slides down for a new one. I don’t hesitate.

  I’m so sorry I didn’t reply yesterday. The day was crazy.

  I thought she’d changed her mind. Got home and had a dose of reality, and decided that I wasn’t worth the effort. I wouldn’t have blamed her.

  Tell me about it.

  Her reply is immediate. You had a rough day too?

  I read back over the few lines we’ve shared and realize how she could have mixed that up. I meant tell me about your day.

  “We all good here?”

  I lift my head, remembering I’m mid-conversation with Rick. “I’ll let you know when Kris replies.”

  “So, that’s not him?” He nods toward my phone.

  “Friend.” I pocket the device and draw a deep breath. “Anything else you want my input on?”

  “I don’t think so.” Our manager scopes the place, hands loosely to his hips. “We’ve done this here enough times that we know how it runs now.”

  “Exactly.” I run the fingers of my left hand around the glossy shell of my floor tom.

  “There’s something else I need to talk to you about, though.”

  I switch focus to Rick, unsettled at the apprehension written all over his face. “Not to do with the leak?”

  “Not this time.” He pulls a padded stool away from the wall and takes a seat. “Dad wants—”

  “For the last time, call him Wallace. It’s weird.”

  Rick chuckles. “Sorry. Wallace wants you four to set aside time for a meeting before we kick off the week after next. I know Rey will be here on time since I’m the one taking him home, but the other two need to commit to this. It’s not up for negotiation.”

  “What does he want?” I fold my arms high on my chest and widen my stance. It’s not unusual for Wallace to send instruction down the line via Rick. A summary of where he’d like us to focus, our budget, the timeframe—all the shit we know, but it helps to have detailed out on a sheet of paper so that the goalposts stay fresh in our mind during recording. But a sit-down meeting? I don’t like the sound of it.

  “The disruption to this last tour was costly. You and I both know that.” Rick places his palms on his knees, his shoulders curled inward. “He feels it pertinent to have a discussion clarifying the direction of the band.”

  “Where the fuck does he think we want to go?” We’ve always been clear about our style, our motivation. We’re not the type to chop and change with the trends, confusing our fanbase.

  “It’s not so much about where you’re all headed musically. He wants to discuss mindset, accountability.” Rick sighs. “Don’t make me spell it out, Toby.”

  I lift both hands to scrub them over my face. “Rey.”

  “He could have ruined his career, or he could have ruined everyone’s. Replacing him would be hard enough, but if he takes you all down with him, do you want him to shoulder that burden?”

  “Of course not.” I sigh. “He’s disruptive—we know that. But you can’t clip his wings and expect him still to fly. To a degree, he’s who he is because of how he is,” I point out. “Yeah, we’re working on healthier habits, but he’s passionate and full-on. If you try to mainstream him
, we’ll lose our edge.”

  “You almost lost him,” Rick states quietly.

  “Don’t remind me.” Images of Rey slumped on the hotel floor flash through my mind. “What’s Wallace going to propose?”

  “I don’t know.” Rick leans back with a shrug. “He’s kept the details close to his chest.”

  “If he pushes too hard, you know Rey will threaten to walk.”

  “Would you?”

  I pull a deep breath. “I don’t know.” I’m fucking tired of the pressure we get from Bauer Media, but I also know the competition isn’t any better. Wallace might be a hard-nosed bastard most of the time, but he’s a damn good businessman. He managed to fast-track our careers, cutting years off our projected timeline.

  “Just make sure everyone is here at least two days before you’re scheduled to start.”

  “Isn’t that your job?” My phone vibrates in my pocket.

  “They listen to you better.”

  “Lame.” I tug the device free. “I need to make a phone call. Are we good?”

  “Yeah, we’re good.” He leans forward again, eyes glazed as he stares at the mountain of musical equipment laid out before him. “I’ll lock up.”

  “We’re all doing the best we can, Rick.”

  He nods, his back to me. “I know. But there comes a point in your career where you have to do more if you want more. Your best won’t always be enough.”

  Exactly what I’m afraid of.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Jeanie

  “Creature” – BONES UK

  Toby’s number lights up my screen. I don’t hesitate to answer, darting through the office as I do to make for the balcony. Fuck Devon if he has an issue with it. I’m entitled to privacy when taking a call.

  “Hey. I didn’t expect you to phone.” I give the door an extra push to help it close faster on its automatic hinge.

  “Figured it’s easier than typing everything out.” Toby pauses to draw a deep breath. “I didn’t read what you sent, though. I want to hear you say it.”

  I lean against the railing. “Devon rewrote my story.”

  “He said he would.”

  “And he put his name on it. The asshole intends to publish it this weekend.”

  He elicits a throaty growl. “Have you got a copy for me?”

  “No.” I glance through the glass door to where Lenora sits. “I could probably get one, though.”

  “Never mind.” He huffs. “I’ll see it soon enough.”

  “I’m sorry, Toby. This shit sucks.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  My eyes burn. “But it is. If I hadn’t written that stupid reven—”

  “Stop, okay?” His tone softens. “You can’t undo what is done. Yeah, it was stupid to do in retrospect, but you had the decency to recognize it wasn’t something you should make public. Your cunt of a boss, on the other hand.” He lets out a loaded breath. “It’s like they forget we’re human, you know?”

  “I know.”

  “They come after us as though they have a fucking right to make our lives into entertainment for the masses. It’s like we’re not allowed to have a second to ourselves, that by being a public figure, we sign over our fucking soul.”

  “Toby?”

  “What?”

  I run my bottom lip between my teeth. “Don’t forget that I am one of them.”

  He goes quiet, leaving me on the end of the line with my breath caught in my throat. “You’re different, though.”

  “Am I?” I cast a glance inside the office. To the people just like me: in the business of entertainment. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t feel entitled to the private lives of the rich and famous—I told Toby as much. “How can you say that when the reason we know each other is because I bought your details.”

  “And if you hadn’t, maybe we would have crossed paths another way.”

  “You sound as though you talk about fate.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  It’s single digits outside today, far too cold for the two light layers I have on. But I feel like a fire burns within me, stoked by two very different things. Rage, an accelerant thrown on by my boss. And now? Desire, the slow-burning log that keeps the light alive.

  “How was the trip yesterday?” Like the coward I am, I change the subject to something neutral. Safe. Omitting emotion.

  “Fine. But that’s not what you want to know.”

  “It isn’t?” I lift my free hand to my throat and toy with the neckline of my pullover. “If you think you know the answer, then why not tell me?”

  “Because I want to hear you say it so that I know that we’re on the same page.”

  “And if what I say is different?” I shiver against the swirling wind. “You’ve made a fool out of me.”

  “I’ve been a fool since the moment I first saw you.”

  I can’t catch my breath. My fingers massage the knot in my throat, but it doesn’t make drawing air any easier. “We kissed, Toby,” I whisper.

  “I remember.”

  “One kiss.” It’s not enough to know.

  He exhales slowly, a deeply sensual sound. “Don’t you think we need more?”

  Every minute of every day since I’ve been home. “You’re at the other end of the country.”

  “I’m a flight away.”

  “You have an album to organize.”

  “We don’t start for almost another two weeks.”

  “So, why are you there?”

  “I like to be prepared, ready.”

  “For anything that might arise?”

  “For anything that might arise,” he softly repeats. “Like the need to jump across the country to know if I’m a dreamer or a realist.”

  “Maybe the dream is better.”

  He huffs a shallow laugh. “My quiet hotel room says otherwise.”

  I pace across the short balcony, needing to expel some of the nervous energy that coiled tight. “What are we doing here, Toby?”

  “I believe, Jeanie.” I shiver again, but not from the cold. “We’re falling in love.”

  I need a defibrillator—stat. He did not just use the ‘L’ word on me. “Lust,” I correct, hand to my forehead. “You’re confusing how you feel with lust.”

  “No.” His tone rises in volume. “You’re in denial.”

  “We’ve known each other a month,” I cry. “At the start, you wanted to murder me.”

  “Five weeks,” the jerk defines. “And I didn’t want to kill you; you drove me mad.”

  “You threatened me when I said I’d write my article.”

  “You expected less?”

  Well, not really. “Toby,” I whine.

  “Jeanie,” he mimics with a hint of amusement. “Why do you push back on this? If you don’t like me, just say it.”

  “No!” Oh, my God. “What the hell makes you think I don’t like you? Do you think I let any random guy make out with me?”

  He chuckles. “I fucking hope not.” His tone grows solemn. “Why else would you freak out when I make a move, though?”

  I’ve hurt him. Wounded the king of the jungle with my frantic arrows. “It’s a habit. Self-defense. If I reject somebody first, then they can’t hurt me.”

  “Shoot.” He draws a long breath. “Who did this to you?”

  “Nobody. Everyone.” I lift my gaze and find Charles watching. “It’s complex.”

  “I want to come and see you before I get stuck in the studio,” he says. “But you have to let me know you’re okay with it. I’m not forcing this, babe. I’m telling you things I don’t normally share with anyone—the truth in my heart. What you do with it is up to you.”

  “I’m not sure if now is the right time.”

  “Because of the shit with your boss?”

  I roll my eyes. “What else?”

  “That’s mine to deal with. I don’t want you to worry about it, okay?”

  “Easier said than done when I’m feet from his office.”

&n
bsp; “Nobody says you have to stay.”

  “My rent does. My food. My utilities.”

  Toby heaves a sigh. “I gotta go, but I’d like it if you said yes. I’ve got something I have to do in the next few days, but after that, I have a window before I’m out of time.”

  “I’ll let you know.” I close my eyes, head tipped to the sky, and bounce on the balls of my feet. I know what I want, but I know what’s right. What’s easier. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t want to hear you say that again.”

  “I mean it, though.”

  He pauses, his voice soft when he replies, “I know you do.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Toby

  “Fight Milk” – Only Shadows

  The guy hasn’t been out for twenty-four hours, and he’s already on the run. Family lunch. One goddamn obligation, and as always, my little brother manages to make a spectacle out of it and take off.

  “You know, it didn’t help that you all but bit his head off,” Cassie says from her spot curled into an oversized armchair. “It sounded like you were mad with him.”

  “I kind of am, but it’s not his fault.”

  “Why did you take it out on him then?”

  I shrug, peeling the label off my beer. “It wasn’t intentional.” My mood turned to shit the second I lifted the phone to let Rick know the prick plans to publish the story.

  “You better give him a call and tell him that, then.”

  “Tell who what?” Mom asks, entering the TV room.

  “Toby is going to call Rey and apologize for being a grumpy asshole.”

  “Cassie,” Mom chastises. “Is the name-calling necessary?”

  She lifts her brow as though to say, “What do you think?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” Mom eases into her chair with a sigh. “He didn’t help himself. He’s been itchy since he stepped foot in here; something else he’d rather be doing.”

  “Someone else,” I mutter.

  Cassie kicks my shin. “I think he was on a call to Tabitha when I called him out for lunch.”

  Mum sighs, lifting her arms to pull her hair back into a low bun. “I don’t know why he keeps her such a big secret. She seems lovely enough.”