by Ivy Harper
I wasn’t sure why it mattered what I called him. It wasn’t like I was unprofessional. “Because you’re my employer.”
“Kole’s your employer. I want you to call me Tak. It’s weird hearing my last name all the time. I’ve already told you I hate being called that.”
I thought over his words for a second. I called him Tak in my head, but it would be weird to call him by his name out loud. It would imply a closeness we didn’t have. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jensei, but that would be rude.”
“It’s rude to ignore your employer’s orders.”
“Didn’t you just say Kole is my employer?”
He glared at me. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood. I decided to annoy him a little more. After all, he deserved it for trying to cause a scene earlier.
Let’s not forget he had his goons throw me in a pool with all my belongings. And made me get up at dawn to run. I’d tease him a little more before I gave in to his request.
“I don’t think it would be right. I think of you as my boss or a client I work for. I would prefer to call you by your last name.”
I offered him my famed Mona Lisa smile. It worked on dignitaries, CEO’s, and senators. My own subtle sign of death.
“No, call me by my first name, otherwise...” He gave a sexy smile.
He grabbed my hands and lifted them above my head, my back and hands were pressed against the wall with the move. I felt the surrealness of having Tak, lead singer of Rejected One so close. My heart raced and I could feel my cheeks heating. I had been wall slammed by Tak Jensei.
I closed my eyes and puckered my lips. I would write in my diary tonight that I got kissed by Tak Jensei. In big bold letters.
Then it hit me. If I gave in, then he’d treat me like the other bimbo’s who threw themselves at him all the time. I didn’t hate the idea of kissing Tak, but I despised the idea I’d be another notch in his belt.
I wasn’t there for romance. I was there to save his life. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me. A wave of dizziness hit me, but I refused to lose to the fangirl within.
“I’ll do it,” I shouted.
“Do what?”
My words tumbled over each other as they rushed out. “I’ll call you Tak from now on.”
He released my hands. “The one time I wish you’d been more stubborn.” He flicked my nose gently, a cocky smile decorating his face. “Next time, I won’t stop.”
The elevator released a loud ding before the doors opened. I watched him go, feeling overwhelmed.
“I don’t think I can survive this,” I muttered as I sagged forward, dropping my arms. Scrubbing a hand down the side of my face, I wished desperately to go back to being only a fan of Rejected One. Instead, my eyes watered in regret as I thought about my missed opportunity to get a kiss from the Tak.
Sniffling, I straightened and chased after him.
Chapter 18
Ol’ Bull
Tak
* * *
I replayed the moment over and over in my head. Jazz closing her eyes and puckering her lips, more than ready for my kiss. I almost chuckled in amusement.
She had recovered fast. I had expected a sharp slap, and a few choice words. Instead, she’d conceded to calling me by my first name.
She’d given in a lot faster than I’d expected. I didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed. Kissing her would be nothing, but the fact she’d rather call me my name then kiss me rankled.
Even as the interviewer droned on, I watched her beneath my lashes. Her expression had changed from excitement to sympathy when Jay spoke about his youth. She had given several sympathetic nods.
She acted like a fan, her reactions so animated and eye catching. I wondered if she really thought no one could see her in the corner she stood in. I immediately didn’t like the idea of anyone else seeing the multitude of different expressions she made.
“Tak?”
Startled, I looked away from her to the guy who sat across from us. Haines, he was well known for having critiqued other bands in the past, like Linkin Park and Avenged Sevenfold. He tapped his pen against his notebook. “It looks like we’ve been boring you.”
I smirked. “Somewhat, but I’m often bored at interviews.”
“Tak,” Jay warned, but he knew I wasn’t one to lie about how I felt. Most of the time I didn’t lie, other times lies kept me together.
Haines eyes flashed with irritation. He glanced at Jazz before those beady eyes met mine. A slow carnivorous smile coming to his lips.
“After the scandal, it looks like your label was quick to shut down any inquiries into you’re failed suicide. Tell me, are you still suffering depression, or have you recovered as your CEO has said to several news outlets?”
I hated Kole for that fucking press release he held. I told him I didn’t do it. He just threw flames on the fire of that fucked-up rumor.
This fucker wanted to play games. Okay, I’d bite. I shifted in the chair.
“Depression doesn’t go away, so it’s weird to ask that question. Feelings of loneliness and lack of emotional connection is something many people suffer from. Shouldn’t you be more sensitive with your wording?”
The silence after my words was the sound of sweet victory. The producer who sat nearby, wriggled in his seat nervously. Obviously wishing Haines hadn’t asked the single question that had been on the do not ask list.
“Yes, you are right of course, but one would think you’d want to share your experience with the media in order to help others suffering with it as well. It’s always good for the public to feel like they aren’t alone in their struggle.”
Haines wanted me to put a period in his career. I uncrossed my legs and leaned forward, pausing when I felt a hand settle on both sides of my shoulders. I glanced to my right to see it was Jay and looking on the other side of me I found Omar.
Both of them weren’t sure what I would do. I would have told the two wussies I wasn’t going to do anything but that would have been a waste of breath.
So instead, I released a heavy sigh and smiled. Yeah, I fucking smiled because smiling when someone was trying to piss you the fuck off, pissed the person off more. Asshole Move 101.
“Haines, I’ll answer this question since you seem like a prostitute looking for a dollar about it.”
He narrowed his eyes. That’s right bitch. I had his number.
“I don’t share my problems with the media because instead of it getting to those who need help and those who’d gain strength from my story, it would be used as sensational news by publications similar to your own. The idea that my mental illness would be turned into a story about me trying to gain attention from the public sickens me. Depression, loneliness, and self-hate are not emotions to be used for other’s amusement.”
The hands atop my shoulders slipped away and I continued. “And people like you, who use it as a petty way to trigger me because I won’t suck your dick for clout are the worse because you don’t really give two shits about my mental state, you want a story. Well, here’s one.”
I stood, shoving my hands in my pocket. “In two months’ time, Rejected One will be doing a concert at the bar that started it all and the money will go to charity for those fucked-up people who are like me. Now, go fuck yourself and have a pleasant day.”
With that, I made my way out. I wasn’t surprised my bandmates followed me. We were a lot of things, friends, enemies, but we weren’t disloyal.
“Fuck, Tak, that was fucking wow,” Ark exclaimed as we entered the elevator. “But you really want to do a concert at the Ol’ Bull?”
I was too busy questioning that myself. Shit, what was I thinking? I had completely dropped my persona. Let’s not forget, it’d been half a year since we’d all rehearsed together, and I had just fucking announced a concert. The only upside to this entire shit show was that Kole was going to be pissed.
“You really just do what you want,” Jay said from the back of the elevator. “Are you even going to ask us if w
e want to do the concert?”
“Don’t you all need the money? A concert would bring in major commercials,” I jeered.
“Pfft, all the deals you don’t take, we do,” Omar said. “And before you call us vultures, we’re not going to ignore a deal worth millions.”
Jazz hesitantly asked, “So how do you think Chelsea will react?”
I didn’t groan like the other pussies behind me. I wasn’t scared of that witch and I didn’t feel a sense of relief that she’d gone back to the office after she’d made sure I’d arrived at the interview. I’d handle my business and she’d get it done.
* * *
***
* * *
I looked out at Vander City with my back to everyone. Music on a low hum as the traffic below zipped by, creating visual notes, like black sheet paper and colorful ink. I’m almost lost to the growing sound in my head when Chelsea’s voice yanked me back.
“Are you fucking stupid?” Chelsea nearly screamed. She had made us come to her office right after she heard from Jay what I’d said. “Do you think I’m fucking Houdini?” She finished.
I wasn’t avoiding her stare because I was afraid. No, I was looking at the pleasing view of Vander City because I appreciated it.
“Tak?”
“Hm?”
“Didn’t we say not to do anything reckless?” she said. “This is considered reckless. And you.” She turned on Jay, who immediately lifted his hands as if to fend her off. “Aren’t you supposed to control him?”
He offered her a sheepish smile. “I mean, Haines was rude. He asked Tak a question that was on the don’t ask list. What did you think Tak would do? Honestly, it’s better this way. At least he didn’t hit him, right?”
“Shouldn’t you be happy I’m finally getting back to work?” I asked, thinking about all the times she’d complained to me over the last few months about not committing to talking about a new tour.
Chelsea glowered at me.
“This isn’t exactly the way I saw it happening. Not only did you say you wanted to make it a charity event, this event won’t even make any money for us.”
“Then take the money from the next job we do, and… let’s do it in memory of Mira, this was the kind of stuff she’d dreamed of doing once she made it big.”
“Tak.” The fire that had been in Chelsea’s voice diminished.
I ignored the sympathy in her words. Mira had been a young talent I’d personally discovered. I’d love watching her on stage.
She’d been completely different from me when I was young. I swore she’d be the next big thing, but just when she’d gotten her big chance. A snake I’d never given the time of day came along and ruined her life.
Three years later, people still hesitated before mentioning her name in my presence. Chelsea groaned and turned her back on us. She lowered her head, settling her hands on her hips before she suddenly turned around giving us a confused look.
“Where’s that damn bodyguard? She should have stop this.”
Jazz
* * *
I’d been told by the band members to stay below in the lobby as they followed an obviously pissed Chelsea upstairs. I was sitting in the café, holding a cup of hot cider. I couldn’t believe the words Tak had said.
It was hard to remember he wasn’t a complete idiot, despite being a grade A asshole. Hearing my phone buzz, I looked down at my smart watch, seeing a message from Chelsea. I stood and tossed my drink into the trash.
It looked like she wanted to see me. Heading toward the elevator, I spotted someone familiar waiting for it.
Why is he so fucking heavy?
The memory came back like a flash from the past. I quickly moved to hide behind a large pillar. The man was tall and wearing a beige suit.
I zeroed my gaze in on the name tag that swung from his neck, Bradley Jones. I dodged back behind the pillar when he glanced over his shoulder. Breathing heavy, I leaned forward to see him entering the elevator.
The door began to close, I ran past, spotting the button that was lit in the reflection of the car’s mirror.
“Fourth floor.”
I took the entrance to the stairwell. Seeing the amount of stairs I had to run up, I smacked my cheeks. “Let’s go, Jazz.”
Racing up the steps, I didn’t let myself think about what floor I was on until I saw the sign with the big red four. I shoved the exit door open in time to see him walk around the corner away from me. Chasing after him, I barely avoided a random worker who stepped out into the hallway.
My sneakers squeaked against the floor as I came to a stop at the end of the hallway. Searching, I looked right and left. Nothing.
Taking a chance, I turned right and ran down the corridor, looking through the glass walls of the many offices. Not seeing him, I felt a wave of disappointment. Shit, I shouldn’t have hesitated.
I should have walked toward him boldly. It wasn’t like he’d seen me that night. I stopped, searching for what else I could do to find him.
“Ms. Ryland?” I turned around to see the man who had shown up at Tak’s house with Mr. Kole this morning. He walked toward me. “Are you okay? I spotted you running.”
“Sorry, Mr. Danny.” I rested a hand sheepishly on the back of my head. “I was sort of lost. I was told to report to Ms. Chelsea’s office ASAP.”
He nodded. “I can show you the way. This building can be confusing to new people.”
I laughed. “I’m definitely confused.”
He stepped aside and motioned forward. “This way.”
With little choice, I was forced to follow him. As we walked in silence, I thought over what I’d seen. One of the culprits worked here at the label.
That’s not surprising. I could think of at least five people that worked with him who wanted to place Tak’s head in a meat cutter. However, what was Bradley Jones’s motive?
“How is it working out with our favorite singer?”
Confused by the sudden question from Danny, I eyed him. The tone he used had been filled with sarcasm. I didn’t like it.
Tak maybe a jerk but he wasn’t that cruel. Half the stuff he said could be ignored. No matter how I felt about his annoying focus on getting on my nerves, I wasn’t going to talk behind his back.
“Well, it’s been pretty boring.”
He chuckled, side-eyeing me. Clearly not getting that I wasn’t going to talk about Tak.
“You don’t have to watch your words with me, Ms. Ryland. I’m sure it’s been difficult. Tak’s always done whatever he wants and there’s little that’s done because he’s the moneymaker.”
“Mr. Danny, I’d prefer it if we didn’t discuss my VIP.”
At my words, he immediately lost his smile. He remained silent until we reached Chelsea.
“Here we are. Enjoy the rest of your day, Ms. Ryland,” he said as he walked away. I watched him go, my suspicion stirring before my thoughts were rudely cut short by the door bursting open.
“Jazz, get in here,” Chelsea yelled, her face red.
She grabbed my arm and tugged me inside. I was greeted by the weary expressions of the band’s members. Tak winked at me, though he looked just as haggard.
I caught myself before I made a catching gesture and pulled it to my chest. I was getting better at this. Releasing my arm, Chelsea closed the space between us to an uncomfortable degree.
“Explain to me why I’m organizing a benefit concert in a small ass bar, hmm?”
I warily looked from her to the others, but they all looked away. I returned my gaze to her angry face and swallowed. “Because Tak announced one.”
“Why?” I flinched. She released a heavy sigh, before inhaling deeply. “Why didn’t you stop him?”
“I… I sort of wanted it to happen,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” She turned her head, so her left ear was facing me. “You what?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I wanted the concert to happen after all that Haines guy said.�
��
“Wow, and you said you weren’t a fan,” she exclaimed cynically, giving me some space. “I’m surrounded by nothing but troublemakers and traitors. Fine.”
She threw her hands up. She focused her next response on Tak. “I’ll do it. I’ll sell it to Kole and get the marketing on it, but you are going to put Nakamura out of their misery. You’re going to sign that damn contract Kole brought you this morning or I’ll let this shit fall on its face.”
Tak’s face turned dark. For a beat, I was sure he’d tell Chelsea to fuck off, but instead he gave a bob of his head. “Fine, but on one condition.”
Crossing her arms, Chelsea exhaled slowly. “And what’s that?”
“No one with the last name Nakamura is there,” he said, his voice brokering no disagreement. “The minute I see anyone from that family, I’m out.”
Chelsea seemed to weigh his words before she gave a quick nod. “Usually, those people like to take photos with the celebrities, but I’ll send Kole to kiss ass.” She clapped her hands together. “Then we have a deal. You get a concert, and we get a percentage of four million. Life’s good,” she crooned.
Chapter 19
Nakamura
Tak
* * *
The minute I was able to pull myself away from that damn Chelsea and get back in my car, I was on edge. Shit, I’d agreed to do the commercial with Nakamura. I felt the pressure building in my chest. I pressed a hand against it, rubbing as if I could physically alleviate it.
The Nakamuras were one thing, but that one thing was adding to the overwhelming feeling of drowning I was experiencing. Chelsea still hadn’t brought me any information about that night in Vegas. I’d gone to her because I knew she’d look into it quietly, but now I wished I’d gone to Pit. At least he’d have already brought me something, anything to look at.
No, the same reason I couldn’t go to Pit was the same reason I hadn’t gone to the other four or Skittles. I didn’t want them to look at me with pity or disappointment.