“Shit,” Karl, the seventeen-year-old from Germany says. “I thought we’d get time off to go home for long weekends.”
Reece will freak. I told her I was sure I’d be able to come home at least once.
Sahara, the woman from Texas, and the only female of the ten, says, “Some of these weeks have sixty hours or more scheduled.”
“Did you think you were coming for vacation?” I say.
“Bloody hell,” Rowan says. “Have you seen this list of guest speakers? It’s the who’s who of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.”
Henry, also from California, and from what I’ve seen, the cockiest of the lot, says, “No big deal. I’ve already met half of them.”
“No shit?” Henry’s roommate, Jonah, says. “Do you come from a famous family or something?”
“My dad’s a financial guru to the stars,” he says. “He knows everyone in LA.”
“And he lets you sit in on their private financial meetings?” I ask sarcastically.
“Well, not their meetings.”
“So they come to your house? Your dad has a home office or something?”
“No.”
“You party with them?”
“Not really.”
“So what you’re really saying is your dad has met them, not you.”
He looks annoyed. “What are you, Sherlock fucking Holmes?”
Some of the others laugh.
“What do you think Gunther is like?” Sahara asks. “Any of you met him before?”
“I heard he’s a real douche,” Henry says.
“That’s not unusual for someone in his position,” Sam says. “When you have more fame and money than the Pope, you can act any way you want.”
“The Pope doesn’t have money,” Rowan says.
“Yes, he does. Have you seen where he lives?”
Rowan shakes his head. “Most Popes have taken a vow of poverty. Even if they haven’t, they don’t get a salary. All their expenses are paid, but it’s not like they have a shit-ton of investments.”
Sam scratches his jaw. “Huh, you don’t say.”
“I don’t think Grumley’s a douche,” I say. “I haven’t met him, but from what I’ve read, he’s kind of a recluse. Not a people person. That doesn’t make him an asshole. It just means he enjoys his privacy.”
“Then why invite ten strangers a year into your home?” Karl asks.
“Exactly,” I say. “You think an arrogant douchebag would do that? He wants to share his gift. I’d say that’s about as far removed from douchey as one can get.”
“Show of hands,” someone says from the front of the room, startling us. The huge leather chair behind the desk that had been facing away from us swings around, and it’s him. “Who thinks he’s a douche?”
We’re stunned. I’m sure we’re all rewinding the conversations of the last ten minutes in our heads to see if we said anything disparaging.
“Come on, mates,” Gunther says. “If we’re going to be together for six months, we might as well be honest with each other.” He looks at us. “What, no one?”
Henry steps forward and holds out his hand. “’Sup, Gunner?”
Gunther ignores it and comes out from behind the desk. “My mates call me Gunner. As we’ve just met, you are not my mates. I realize I may use that word a lot, but make no mistake, it’s not because we’re friends, it’s because I’m Australian. You may call me Mr. Grumley.”
He calls our names. After we raise our hands, he gives us each a long slim box. “Don’t open these until I tell you.”
It’s not as if he hasn’t seen us before. We had to send a video. Still, he’s appraising us. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so scrutinized in my life, and my father is Daniel Young.
“You may sit now.” He perches on the desk. “Two of you will crack under the pressure and run home to mummy. Another two will decide you like my homeland so much, you’ll stay and most likely join some hippie band that doesn’t believe in wearing shoes and smokes ganja until dawn. Two of you will complete the course only to go on to other occupations, music becoming a mere hobby you get around to when your spouse and children allow you the time. Then there are the three of you who live and breathe percussion. I get that all of you believe you do, but you don’t. You’ll be lured away by other temptations. Only the truest of the true will get to live out the dream you all have.” He stands and paces around the desk, picking up a drumstick and twirling it in the air. “All of you can hear a tune on the keyboard or a riff on the guitar and put a beat to it. Any amateur can do that. But for those elite three of you, by the time you leave here, you won’t need a guitar or keyboard to make music. You’ll leave people in awe with the thirty inches of carved wood you hold in your hands. Your lives will change in one way or another because of the time you spend here. You will go home different people. You’ll return to past relationships and see them more clearly. Maybe you’ll move across the country or the world to follow your dream. Maybe you’ll marry your high school sweetheart. Maybe you’ll toss her to the curb and start fresh.” He turns to Sahara. “Or him.”
“No, you had it right,” Sahara says. “Her.”
Genial laughter fills the room.
“Open your boxes.”
We all know what’s in them. Drumsticks.
Gunther gazes at the ones in his hand like they’re newborn babies. “Promark Shira Kashi 7A, made from Japanese oak. Fifteen and three-eighths inches. Oval wood tip.” He runs a finger down the shaft. “The best sticks for playing jazz.” He looks up. “Most of you are here for rock and roll, but to be one of the best, you have to know and play the best. Jazz is where it all began.” He thumps the sticks against his thigh. “We start with the basics. I want these sticks to become an extension of you. Take them everywhere—in the car, to the restaurant, on the beach. Become one with them.”
“What about the shitter?” Henry asks. “Should we take them there too?”
Everyone laughs.
“Yes, even there,” Gunther says. “You laugh, but have you ever heard the beat of sticks against a full roll of toilet paper? An empty one? How about a hand towel or a sink full of water? Everywhere you go there will be opportunities to make sound. Do you know what a gift that is? Pianists don’t have that luxury, and neither do guitar players. With these you will discover the most beautiful noises, and it will make you a better percussionist. Keep them in your pocket, purse, or satchel. Eat with them next to your plate. Sleep with them close to your pillow. For the next one hundred and eighty days, these two objects are the most important things in your world.” He gives us all biting stares. “Just don’t make them your lover—not under my roof, anyway.” He sits behind the desk. “The time you’ll spend here will be the most intense of your life. Are you ready to get started?”
Rowan raises his hand.
“What is it, mate?”
“What about the last person? You said two will leave, two will stay in Australia, two will choose other occupations, and three will go on to live the dream. What about the tenth one?”
“Ah, yes.” Gunther’s gaze passes over each one of us. Slowly. Purposefully. “The last one is a bloody drongo.”
The only one who gets it is the student from Australia.
“A fool,” he says. “Someone who cheated to get into the program. I’ve been doing this for fifteen years. I’m sure some of you think me an old, dried up legend. Someone you can use to fit your agenda. Each of you got here because you are talented. But statistically speaking, one of you does not deserve to be here.” His eyes momentarily lock with mine, and my heart races. “Rest assured. It won’t take me long to figure out which one of you that is.”
It’s been eighteen months since I applied. I try to remember if I said or did anything that would be considered lying or manipulative. No way. It’s not me. The ten of us search each other’s eyes, trying to identify the one.
Gunther startles us by drumming his sticks on the desk. “Does anyone need to change
their trousers before we begin?”
Chapter Twenty-six
Reece
“He sure has been happy lately,” Ella says over the music.
We’re standing in the wings, watching them play as we do at every concert. “What’s not to be happy about? They’re killing it.”
I can feel her staring at me even though I’m not looking at her. I know what she’s insinuating, but I’m not biting. Mainly because I’m not sure what to do with the information.
He is happier. I’m just not sure if it’s because we no longer hate each other, or if it’s something more.
I don’t trust myself. What he said to me is true. My heart does live in my vagina. I’ve fallen in love with every guy I’ve ever dated. Or thought I had. I don’t think I really knew what love was until Garrett. And since my divorce, random hookups are all I’ve allowed myself. But that stopped when I slept with Garrett.
He hasn’t shown interest in sleeping with me again, and I’m embarrassed to admit it kills me a little. But here I am, pretending to be okay with us just being friends.
Ella leans close. “Liam was telling me how Garrett hasn’t brought any women back to his hotel room lately. Don’t you find that interesting?”
“Maybe he’s just being more discreet about it.”
“Nope.”
“He and I are friends, Ella. Nothing more.”
“Friends with a whole lot of history.” She glances around to see if anyone is listening. “Friends who had a one-nighter a few weeks ago.”
My jaw goes slack. “He told you?”
“Liam figured it out. Garrett wasn’t going to say anything, and I don’t think the others know. My lips are sealed. I’m good at keeping secrets.”
“It was only the one time. We were drunk.”
“And yet that night changed the whole dynamic between you.”
“We decided we were tired of fighting.”
“If you think you’re fooling anyone, you aren’t. We all see the way you two stare at each other.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Follow me,” she says, pulling me over to the stairs in the wings that gives us a better view of Garrett. She climbs up a few. “Come up here. I’m willing to bet he makes eye contact with you and doesn’t look away for at least fifteen seconds.”
I follow her up. “You want to bet, huh? What am I going to win?”
“Nothing. Just the satisfaction that I’m right. I’ll stand back here so—” She loses her balance, falls backward, and disappears.
“Ella!”
I trot down the stairs to find her lying on the floor, cradling her left arm. Jeremy and a few of the crew run over to help. I stifle a gasp when I see her forearm.
“It’s broken for sure,” someone says. “Arms don’t curve like that.”
Tears stream down her face, and she tries not to scream. I crouch by her side to offer support. “We should call 911.”
Jeremy calls out to someone, then kneels. “An ambulance might take a while, but the limo’s out back. Tom will go with you and make sure you get there okay. I’ll let everyone know what happened after the show.”
Tom wraps her arm in his T-shirt and then carries her down the hall. I trail them, not wanting her to go alone.
In the limo, Ella finally let’s her pain get the best of her. I can’t imagine what it must feel like. Her forearm is no longer straight. It’s U-shaped. I rub her back soothingly.
She laughs painfully. “Sadly, this is not the first time I’ve been rushed to the hospital in a limousine.”
“Seriously?”
Clearly in agony, she tries not to move. “I’ll tell you all about it after they give me drugs.”
At the emergency room, Ella is whisked away, and Tom and I are directed to the waiting room.
“I hope it’s not bad,” I say. “You seemed to know what you were doing.”
“I had some training when I served in Afghanistan. It’s definitely more than a typical hairline break. But it’s not a compound fracture; it didn’t pierce the skin. That’s good news.”
“You think they’ll be able to put on a cast and release her tomorrow? We’re supposed to go right to Salt Lake City for back-to-back concerts.”
“Depends on the severity of the break. They should know after an x-ray.”
We make small talk until a nurse appears, asking for me. I’m taken back to Ella, who’s behind a curtain. She smiles when she sees me. “I’m guessing you’re high on pain meds?”
She looks at me lazily. “Yeah, baby. They gave me the good stuff. Said I’ll be here a while. You and Tom can take the limo back. I’m sure Liam will want to come here when he finds out.” Her eyes close momentarily. “Whew, this stuff is really kicking in.”
“I’ll tell Tom to go, but I’m staying here if it’s okay with you. Nobody should have to wait in the ER alone.”
“Thanks, Reece. I’d like that.”
I quickly tell Tom what she said and return to find Ella being put in a wheelchair. “Where are they taking you?”
“Gotta stay overnight. Right, doc?”
“I’m the orderly,” the guy says.
We go up to the fourth floor, down another hallway, and into a patient room. No one else is here. I help the orderly get her into bed. She’s half asleep and her arm is splinted and secured to her body. The orderly hands me a bag containing her clothes and phone.
“Nice room,” I say.
Ella tries to roll over and winces. “Ow. Darn, these drugs are reeeeeeally good. I almost forgot what happened. Will you sign my cast? Write ‘the famous Reece Mancini.’”
“You’re totally loopy. What did the doctor tell you?”
Her head falls back on the pillow. “I don’t know. Something about swelling or surgery or …” She drifts off to sleep halfway through the sentence.
“The morphine kicked in,” someone says from the doorway. “Hi, I’m Lucita. I’m Ms. Campbell’s nurse.”
“I’m Reece. Will she be okay? She said something about surgery, but it’s just a broken arm, right? Oh, gosh, she doesn’t have any internal injuries from the fall, does she?”
“Are you family?”
“No.”
“Then I can’t give you details, Reece. But she’s going to be fine. Seems she very sensitive to morphine, however. Don’t worry, the effects of her first dose won’t last long. The doctor will be by later to explain the course of treatment.”
“Didn’t she already see a doctor in the ER?”
“That was the Emergency Department physician. The orthopedic specialist on-call will be consulting on the case.”
“Can I stay with her?”
“I don’t see why not. I’ll check back in a bit. There’s a soda and snack machine down the hall to the left.”
“Thank you.”
I text Liam and tell him not to panic. Then I spend the next two hours googling all things Garrett Young.
~ ~ ~
“Reece.”
I wake. It takes me a minute to remember where I am. “Sorry. I must have fallen asleep.”
Garrett and the others crowd into Ella’s room.
“This is very unorthodox,” Lucita says, appearing out of nowhere. “It’s after visiting hours. You’ll have to leave.” She does a double take. “You’re Reckless Alibi, right? Some of the nurses went to see you. Which one of you is connected to the patient?”
Liam says, “I am. She’s my girlfriend.”
“Okay, I’m willing to bend the rules. But all of you can’t be here.”
The door opens. “What do we have here?”
“Sorry, Dr. Lu,” Lucita says. “I was just asking them to leave.”
“You’re the doctor?” Liam asks. “Is she going to be okay?”
“And you are?”
“Boyfriend.”
“It’s okay,” Ella says. “They’re my friends. They can hear whatever you say.”
“All right,” Dr. Lu says. “But then you’ll have to
leave. Ms. Campbell needs to rest.”
“I’m staying,” Liam says. “You’ll have to drag my ass out if you want me gone.”
“I’ll find a cot for you,” Lucita says. “But only you.”
“Thank you.”
The doctor makes a note in his chart. “Ms. Campbell will need surgery.”
Liam lets out a long sigh. “Damn, that’s serious.”
“All surgery is serious, but the bone didn’t pierce the skin, so her risk of infection is low. We’ll have to wait for the swelling to go down before we operate.”
“How long will that take?” Liam asks.
“A day, maybe two.”
Liam looks at the others. “Sorry, guys. We’ll have to cancel tomorrow’s performance.”
“Of course we will,” Crew says. “Whatever it takes.”
“I’ll have to do damage control with Ronni,” Jeremy says. “You know she’ll have a conniption.”
“Screw Ronni,” Garrett says.
“Wait a minute,” I say. “Maybe you don’t have to cancel.”
Liam is obstinate. “I’m not leaving her here alone. Her parents are two thousand miles away.”
“I’ll stay with her.” I turn to the doctor. “How soon will she be able to leave after surgery?”
“The next day, most likely.”
“You guys go to Salt Lake City tomorrow as planned. Do the concert. Bria can perform my song. We’ll fly to Portland after and meet up with you.”
“You want me to sing for you?” Bria asks. “You’d allow that?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“She’s right,” Ella says, obviously more coherent but still in a lot of pain. “You can’t cancel the concert for me. I won’t let you.” She turns to me. “You don’t have to stay here, Reece. I’m a big girl.”
“I’m not leaving you here alone,” Liam says.
“I’m staying,” I say. “It’s settled.”
She smiles. “Thanks, Reece.”
Lucita escorts us out.
I glance over my shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow before you leave, Liam.”
He nods his appreciation as I leave.
I notice what I hadn’t before. “Where’s Iggy?”
Reckless Reunion (The Reckless Rockstar Series) Page 16