Revel

by Shey Stahl

  Table of Contents

  REVEL

  Copyrights

  Contact Information

  Books by Shey

  Quote

  Playlist

  Prologue

  1 Dragon on my Back

  2 The Princess of Pop

  3 Princess is looking for a king

  4 What the hell?

  5 She’s off limits

  6 Who the hell is this guy?

  7 The forbidden fruit

  8 Don’t bite the apple

  9 Annoyance

  10 Unexpected rescue

  11 The night I lost my mind

  12 Playing games with the devil

  13 What did I agree to?

  14 Eyes on you, Princess

  15 You should walk away

  16 Foggy memory. Again.

  17 I tried to stay away

  18 Untouchable

  19 Give me your hand

  20 An invitation, should I take it.

  21 Give her what she wants

  22 In a different light

  23 Maybe it’s better this way

  24 Merry and Moping

  25 Day drinking

  26 Roses of Revenge

  27 Reality comes crashing in

  28 I should have known

  29 A reckless mind

  30 Cold and Disturbed

  31 It needs to be done

  32 Prison sentence

  33 So this is what sober is like?

  34 Resisting

  35 Will he show?

  36 You didn’t see that coming

  37 Hey, Red?

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Meet the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Shey Stahl

  REVEL

  Printed in the United States of America

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of Shey Stahl.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, artists, venues, locales, or persons, dead or living, is coincidental. Certain phrases, quotes, and/or lines from the author’s previous works may appear in this book and are copyrighted by Shey Stahl.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, teams, sponsors, songs and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Lyrics to “Addicted” and “sin” provided by Thomas Jamezz (revolutionary_badboy)

  Editor: Becky Johnson, Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Image: Michelle Lancaster (lanefotograf)

  Cover Model: Josh Elton (josh.elton_)

  Cover Designer: Perfect Pear Creations, Sommer Stein

  Graphics and Formatting by A Designs

  Plagiarism checks carried out by Hot Tree Editing using Grammarly, Plagiarisma, and by Shey Stahl using Plag Scan.

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  EMAIL

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  WEBSITE

  WWW.SHEYSTAHL.COM

  PINTEREST

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  INSTAGRAM

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  RACING ON THE EDGE

  HAPPY HOUR

  BLACK FLAG

  TRADING PAINT

  THE CHAMPION

  THE LEGEND

  HOT LAPS

  THE ROOKIE

  FAST TIME

  OPEN WHEEL

  PACE LAPS

  DIRT DRIVEN (TBA)

  BEHIND THE WHEEL (TBA)

  THE REDEMPTION SERIES

  THE TRAINER

  THE FIGHTER

  REDEMPTION (BOX SET WITH BONUS MATERIAL)

  STAND ALONES

  WAITING FOR YOU

  EVERYTHING CHANGES

  DEAL

  ALL I HAVE LEFT

  AWAKENED

  EVERLASTING LIGHT

  BAD BLOOD

  HEAVY SOUL

  BAD HUSBAND

  BURN

  SHADE

  LOVE COMPLICATED

  TILLER

  UNTAMED

  HOW TO DEAL

  PROMISE NOT TO FALL

  BLINDSIDED

  REVEL

  SEX. LOVE. MARRIAGE (COMING SOON)

  CROSSING THE LINE

  DELAYED PENALTY

  DELAYED OFFSIDES

  THE TORQUED TRILOGY

  UNSTEADY

  UNBEARABLE

  UNBOUND

  She did not know that the wolf was a wicked sort of animal

  and she was not afraid of him.

  Little Red Riding Hood

  “Closer” – Nine Inch Nails

  “Dragon on My Back” – Queen

  “Without Me” – Halsey

  “Comedown” – Bush

  “Keep Me” – The Black Keys

  “Bad Liar” – Imagine Dragons

  “Lie to Me” – 5 Seconds of Summer

  “Woman” – Mumford & Sons

  “Table for One” – AWOLNATION

  “Tennessee Whiskey” – Chris Stapleton

  “Black Velvet” – Alannah Myles

  “Caught Out In the Rain” – Beth Hart

  “Such A Simple Thing” – Ray LaMontagne

  “You Say” – Lauren Daigle

  “Bird Set Free” – Sia

  Rolling Stone

  MUSIC NEWS

  Tension rises between the Princess of Pop and the King of Rock

  By RACHEL RUSHING

  “Taylan who?”

  Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last eighteen years since this little redhead graced Hollywood at the age of three, you know who Taylan Ash is.

  After having to be reminded of who won the majority of the awards, laughter breaks out among the band. “I’d f*** her,” Revved’s front man Revel Slade said of Taylan Ash at the Grammy Awards, “but her lyrics say absolutely nothing other than she clearly hasn’t had her cherry popped.” The venomous dig was prompted by Ash’s recent single, “Love Rewind,” but some wonder if Slade’s harboring a grudge against Ash because of the long-rumored on-again, off-again relationship between Ash’s father and record mogul, Jory Ash, and Slade’s now ex-girlfriend, Hensley Shaw. It’s been reported Slade and Shaw broke up over the latest scandal linking the CEO of Ash Records and Hensley. However, it hasn’t been confirmed.

  Whatever the cause of the rift, Slade didn’t hold back when asked his thoughts on “Love Rewind” after the twenty-year-old pop princess won her fourth Grammy of the night for Best Solo Performance.

  Ash had her own thoughts to offer. “The drugs and alcohol have clearly diminished his ability to identify good music. He’s pathetic. I have great respect for Revved and everything they’ve accomplished as a band, but they’d be better without Revel Slade. I just think he’s an asshole and I have for a long time.”

  Relations between the two icons, the king of rock and the princess of pop, have yet to thaw since their interaction at the Grammys, but in news leaked hours ago the pair are said to be headlining the One Vibe tour that includes seven rock, pop, and country bands on a worldwide tour over the fall/winter. Insiders are saying it’ll be quite the show with Slade’s frequent outbursts on stage.

  Music fans are in for a treat both on and off the stage.

  DRAGON ON MY BACK
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br />   REVEL

  It’s no secret that I have a massive dragon tattoo on my back.

  Truth be told, it’s the most talked about tattoo in the music industry.

  Why? Because they have nothing better to talk about? Could be that. More than likely it’s because of the meaning behind it, which I’ve never told anyone the truth about, but instead, I bury it deep within the lyrics I write. I’ve never directly told anyone the true meaning behind it, but it’s the number one question I’m asked. I’ve given some seriously bullshit answers.

  It’s what I do.

  I avoid.

  Deter.

  Distract.

  Lie.

  I’m brought from my thoughts with the order of, “Showtime, boys.”

  I hate being told what to do. I don’t know any man who enjoys it. Like it’ll make a goddamn bit of difference, I protest with, “I don’t want to do this.”

  Liz Barns, our manager, pushes me forward as if I have no choice. We both know I don’t, but I’ll be damned if I make it easy for her. “When you release a record, you do press. It’s what you signed up for being the biggest rock band in the country.”

  See? She’s right. All my decision-making was taken away a long time ago. When you’re the hottest band in the world, you have little to no say in what direction your life goes, let alone your day. If you’re in the music industry and you’re making money, there’s a good chance you sold your soul to the devil the moment you signed on the dotted line. Unless you work with a record label with your name on it, you’re fucked. If you’re lucky, it’ll be with a Grammy.

  When our band became a household name and I realized the consequences of being in the public eye, I tried my best for years to get out of it, but all that did was put everyone, including myself, in a bad mood. People who say rock stars are impossible to get along with are right. Trust me, I am one. I should know a thing or two about their likability and moodiness.

  When you think about being a rock star, you probably think of things like wild nights, life on the road, groupies, sex, drugs, and more money than you know what to do with. While there is certainly all the above, you never stop to think about the downside of all that. The cause and effect, if you will. The hard truth here? You can only withstand the glare of the spotlight for so long before you crave the relief of the shadows.

  Have you ever sat and counted your heartbeats?

  Bizarre question, sure, but have you done it?

  You’re probably thinking about doing it now, aren’t you?

  I’ve done it, a few times. I once got a rank joint from a dude in South America and then what I thought was ecstasy but now I’m not at all sure. To this day, I have no idea what the shit had been laced with. My memory is absolutely horrible and probably worse since smoking that shit, but whatever it had been, I spent the next twelve hours counting every heartbeat. Believe it or not, I still remember how many heartbeats. I got up to 74,160. Give or take a few. And then I blacked out, slept for three days and woke up hallucinating that I had a dragon on my back. To this day, it still feels like I have that fire-breathing monster with me. Lurking behind me at all times, waiting for me to wake up from this nightmare and singe the hell out of me, once and for all. From that moment on, I’ve been a completely different person. It’s the reason behind the tattoo.

  Or maybe it’s everything else that happened on that South America tour that changed me. Probably more the latter, but I don’t like to talk much about those three months when I was seventeen. To say it was life changing is an understatement. In those three months, I lost what little innocence I had left in me. One could justifiably argue I didn’t have much to begin with. But spending three months with a group of alcoholics and delinquents who became my best friends really changed my perspective. We spent our days high and our nights even higher, shielding emotions with anger and arrogance. Something I’m still very clever at displaying not so peacefully.

  My heart thuds, a knowing reminder that I’m where I don’t want to be. My heart has always been a pretty good judge of character.

  Looking around, I take in my surroundings. Dark walls, microphones, wires, boxes of equipment, and incredibly uncomfortable chairs. Annoyed, I blow out a heavy breath. It’s my automatic response anytime I’m stuck sitting in a studio and not making music. This time it’s a radio studio. I couldn’t tell you what city I’m in or even the names of the two people interviewing us. Radio interviews are so much worse than the standard promotional shit you do when an album drops. You would think that when new music is released, the interviews and press should be about the music, but that’s never the case. Ten times out of ten it always turns personal, and that’s where my problem lies.

  I don’t like talking about myself. Sure, I’m as arrogant as they come about my music because I know I’m one of the greats, but I draw the line at the music. Who the fuck wants to know anything about me anyway? Parents died when I was four, brother walked out on us, the man I looked up to was an alcoholic, and I was raised by a southern woman who beat me with a broom. I think I turned out great considering. To be fair, I deserved every beating Oma handed me. I was such a shit.

  That being said, I fucking hate interviews. Screw that bullshit. You want a story, come to a show, take in the lyrics, listen to the music and then write or talk up your take on what you think you heard. I don’t really care and probably won’t read it.

  Is that harsh? Probably so.

  “Revel. . . ” The man with a greedy smile and dirt under his fingernails directs a question my way. “ . . . you’ve had a rough year so far.”

  I stare at him. Is he asking me a question or just taking note of the fact that my year has been hell? Has it? Do I even remember the last year?

  I think back to what I do remember, and only one thing comes to mind.

  Hensley Shaw and Jory Ash. Adrenaline is a funny thing. It comes out of nowhere and should be considered a deadly sin. Or maybe even a deadly indulgence. Either way, it feeds the dragon I mentioned earlier. I’m not in the mood to deal with any shit today, but I’m especially not in the mood to be doing an interview.

  I don’t know this dude’s name, and frankly, it doesn’t matter. Do you notice the way my heart rate is elevated and that adrenaline I spoke about is taking over? It’s swimming in my veins, threatening to take over because in my head answering his questions is conforming to the bullshit that’s asked of me.

  I hate conforming. Rules and me don’t get along. Never have. I don’t like anyone telling me what I should or shouldn’t do. Which is why Oma beat the shit out of me. I was a disrespectable little asshole most of my life—probably still am. I’ve been that way since I was old enough to understand what it meant to conform and follow the code of conduct. My grandmother, Oma, used to tell me, “Rev, you’re going to be amazing, or you’re going to prison.” Technically, both came true. Well, sort of.

  I was warming the bench in a jail holding cell before my tenth birthday, and I certainly haven’t been on the straight and narrow since. In fact, it’s been more like a landslide to whatever this is I’m living now. In my twenty-four years, I’ve sold more than twenty million records, raised holy fucking hell, gained the hatred of parents by corrupting more than a few daddies’ girls, and drunk more liquor than I should have. I’ve snorted cocaine, crashed cars, fought with my bandmates, journalists, women, family, and through all of this, I’ve loved one woman who completely destroyed me.

  And in case I haven’t convinced you how incredibly intolerable I am, I also despise change. I know, you’re thinking I’m a total headcase. Just wait. By the end of this, you’ll hate me and then maybe understand me.

  Is a monster likable?

  But this part, my current situation, it’s a new level of hate with this DJ. I bet his name is Ted. I’ve never met a Ted I liked.

  The entire band is here, but as always, they want the story of the rebellious lead singer. I didn’t answer his previous question, so he’s trying another way around it to f
urther piss me off. I’ve learned if you really want to get under someone’s skin, you sit back and observe rather than react. Here’s some words of wisdom for you. Be afraid of the calmest person in the room.

  The DJ, probably Ted, turns to me, his smile vindictive. “Revel, there are rumors that you and the other members of Revved don’t get along.”

  The other members of Revved look to me, gauging my reaction. I don’t meet their questioning apprehension. I blow out a heavy breath. It’s my automatic response anytime questions are directed at me during these ass-kissing sessions where we basically beg radio stations to keep shoving our songs down your throat.

  Though there’s a sign above Ted’s head that clearly states No Smoking, I slide a cigarette between my lips and light it.

  “There’s no smoking in here,” someone reminds me.

  “I can read,” I mutter, taking a draw from it. I lean forward and blow the smoke in Ted’s face. My heart thumps wildly in my chest, not from nerves, not from annoyance, but from his attempt to get a salacious reaction out of me. Okay, it’s actually annoyance, and a little bit from the line I just snorted in the bathroom fifteen minutes ago. But whatever, look at this fuck at the mic. He’s sweatin’ and starin’ at me like I’m supposed to dish why Revved and I don’t get along. He expects me to bring him into the inner workings of my band. A band I started at sixteen and to this day, control.

  I wait, expecting another question, silently willing him to poke the beast. Me. And when it doesn’t come, I lose it. “Are they rumors? Is that what you’re asking? Or do you actually want to know why we don’t get along? And who’s saying we don’t get along?”

  “I guess I’m asking if it’s a rumor,” he clarifies, his words trembling.

  “Why?” My jaw snaps closed. A rush of adrenaline hits my stomach with a jolt.

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you asking?”

  Blinking rapidly, he stares at me, the space between his brows deepening in what I can only assume is his irritation with me. “Why do you avoid questions with a question?”