“Stay here. I’m going to grab Darren to help me unload.”
I’m fiddling with the radio, not paying attention to my surroundings when someone knocks on my window. I jump so high, I smoosh my poofy ponytail against the roof.
Boobs. As I turn to roll down my window, all I see are boobs and long blonde hair. I recognize both. We did after all spend all day filming together. “Pamela, what are you doing? You scared the crap out of me.”
She leans down until her face finally takes the place of her boobs. “Why didn’t you tell me Kickstart was playing tonight?”
“I didn’t know until I got home.”
“Oh.” She sinks her perfect white teeth into her plump, glossy bottom lip. “Well, I kind of—”
I unlock the passenger side. “Get in before someone runs you over.”
She sashays her way around the front of my car. Damn, for a last-minute outfit, she didn’t hold back. Her skintight black vinyl minidress and spike heels put my hastily thrown together outfit to shame. She executes a ladylike sit-and-turn into my car and slams the door shut.
“I needed to get out. Since Andrew…I haven’t been anywhere. Or had any fun at all.”
“I’m glad you’re here, then.”
“Then I thought.” She stares straight ahead and gnaws on her bottom lip again. “I don’t want stories to get back to Andrew that I was out all by myself like some pathetic loser.”
“So,” I shrug, “hang out with us tonight.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” We haven’t spoken much about what went down in New York. It didn’t seem polite to bring it up unless she wanted to discuss the situation.
“Have you seen him?”
“Who? Andrew? I haven’t. Things have been too hectic. Chaser’s getting ready to head up to Vancouver to record their album.”
“Has Chaser seen him?”
“I think they’ve hung out and played a few times. Why?”
“Is he,” she takes a long, dramatic inhale and exhale, “seeing anyone?”
“I don’t know.”
She keeps drilling me with her big blue eyes and I finally hold up my hands in surrender. “I swear, I don’t know. Chaser hasn’t mentioned it if he is.”
“Good.” She folds her arms over her chest. “I hope his balls explode.”
I burst out laughing and she joins in. We’re interrupted by the hatch lifting. “Hey, Pamela,” Chaser calls out. “What’re you doing here?”
She twists and wiggles her fingers at him. “I came to see my favorite band play, of course.”
I barely hold back a gag and an eye-roll.
He chuckles for a second, then he and Darren start moving the equipment out.
“Guess it’s time to go inside.” I grab my keys from the ignition, stuffing them in my pocket and we follow the guys to the backstage loading area.
“Wait.” She grabs my arm and stops me before we enter the club. “Andrew’s not coming tonight, is he?”
Somehow, I get the impression, she’s hoping he will show up. I take in her outfit again—definitely an eat-your-heart-out ensemble. “I really don’t know. Like I said, Chaser sprung it on me when I got home.”
“Well, I’ll stick with you just in case.” She pulls away. “Although, you are like an Andrew magnet sometimes.”
“He likes hanging out and playing with Chaser. That doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
She stares at me for a few seconds, then shrugs. “If you say so.”
“Babe,” Chaser holds out his hand. “You coming?”
“Yup.” He pulls me to his side, and I lean up to whisper in his ear, “She’s worried Andrew might show up tonight. You didn’t tell him about the show, did you?”
“Never had a chance to. Doesn’t mean he won’t hear about it from someone else and decide to show up.” He turns to Pamela. “Come hang with us in the green room. Jacob will be ecstatic to see you.”
I appreciate his attempt to ease her worries and make her feel included.
He wraps one arm around my waist and slings the other over Pamela’s shoulders—all right, Chaser, no reason to make her feel that included—and steers us down the hallway.
It’s almost comical how quick Jacob jumps up when he sees her. “Am I dead? I’m seeing angels. This must be heaven.” He clutches his hands over his chest.
Pamela squeals and rushes over to say hi.
Alvin catches me gagging and winks at me. “Glad you came.”
“Chaser made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
Pamela nestles on the couch right in between Garrett and Jacob.
“G, you gonna come watch the first band with us?” Alvin asks.
“No, I trust you,” he answers without looking away from Pamela.
Jacob’s also not interested in leaving.
I don’t even bother asking Pamela if she wants to join us. She looks way too content being the ham in the Jacob/Garrett sandwich. After what Andrew did to her, I’m happy they can cheer her up. Then again, I don’t trust them not to do something even worse.
Chaser
I wasn’t kidding about playing better when Mallory’s here. Maybe it’s all in my head and no one else can tell the difference. I still prefer it when she comes to our shows. Unfair, since I know she has to be up early.
The disappointment on her face when I told her I had a show tonight stirred up my knee-jerk, asshole reaction. I hate disappointing her so much. Thank fuck I reined it in long enough to convince her to come to the show with me.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” I squeeze Mallory to me and kiss her temple.
She wraps her arms around me and tips her head toward the couch. “Sorry about that.”
“Why? He’s been asking about her constantly. Maybe they’ll be good for each other.”
Mallory wrinkles her nose.
“I know. I heard it when it came out of my mouth.” I tap my lip. “Sounded more reasonable in my head.”
Next to us, Alvin snickers. “Can we please stop worrying about who’s sticking their dick where and go watch this band that we might have to be on the road with for a couple of months?”
Outside our dressing room, we run into Thom. At least he showed up tonight. After springing this on us last minute, it would’ve been a dick move not to be here.
I scan the crowd of people clustered backstage. Looks like someone from our record label also made an appearance. I can’t decide if that’s good or bad.
“Is he from the label?” I ask, nudging Thom’s arm.
“Yes. He wanted to get a feel for the chemistry between the bands tonight.”
“We barely know each other.”
He shrugs. “Then make a good impression.”
Make a good impression. I’m about five seconds away from making an impression of Thom’s skull in the drywall.
Alvin must not appreciate the remark either. He snarls at Thom as he marches by. We both ignore the suit and find our way to the entrance of the stage. Three members of Iron Kiss are clustered around, fretting like little chickens. Their nervous behavior pulls at whatever remaining sympathy strings I still possess after all this time in Hollywood.
I stick my hand out to their lead singer. “Sergio, right?”
His eyes go wide and he grabs my hand with both of his, shaking vigorously. “Shit, Chaser Adams. So stoked to finally meet you in person.”
The guitar player butts in, pushing Sergio out of the way. “Fuck, you’re such an inspiration, Chaser. Thanks so much for this opportunity. I’m Hector. We’re really looking forward to touring with you.”
Taken aback by their enthusiasm, I simply nod and introduce them to Alvin. They greet him with the same fervor.
I lean down and whisper in Mallory’s ear, “Was I that—”
“Yes,” Mallory answers before I even squeeze out the question.
My eyebrows knit together in a skeptical frown and she chuckles softly.
“Andrew Lane, I saw y
ou at the Troubadour the second I moved out here. You’re my favorite drummer ever!” she teases in a whisper not meant for anyone else.
“You’re exaggerating.”
She pinches two fingers together. “Maybe a little.”
I tune back into the conversation in front of us. “We’re excited to see you play.”
Poor Nick rocks back on his heels like he’s going to keel over at any moment.
Thom slithers over and rests one arm on my shoulder and one on Alvin’s. “How’s everyone doing over here?”
“Easy breezy,” Alvin says.
“We’ll let you get ready,” Thom says, steering us away.
“We’re cool, Thom. What’s the problem?” Alvin asks.
“Nothing, I want to talk to you for a second. Short set tonight. Just want to give people a taste. Work out some of the new stuff you’re planning to record.”
“Uh, yeah. We know how this works,” I answer.
He pushes open our dressing room door. Pamela and Jacob are busy talking. Huh, didn’t realize he knew how to talk to women. Garrett’s moved over to a table by himself and appears to be using his Walkman to tune them out.
“Mallory, will you go with me to the ladies’ room?” Pamela asks, standing and fixing her dress.
“Sure.”
I lean down and kiss Mallory’s cheek. “Don’t let anyone hassle you.”
“We’ll be fine.”
Jacob watches them leave, then scrubs his hands over his face. “She is the hottest fucking chick I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“God help us,” Alvin mutters.
“She’s so sweet once you get past all that fake Barbie bullshit, too.” Jacob waves his hand at the door.
“Can you all discuss your love lives some other time?” Thom snaps his fingers in front of Jacob’s face. “Business mode, please.”
“This is his business mode.” Garrett slips off his headphones. “All the blood rushing to his cock, helps him think better.”
“It’s true,” Jacob confirms.
Thom groans.
Normally, I would’ve told Jacob and Garrett to knock it off by now, but I fully support them in antagonizing our manager, so I kick back and laugh while Jacob mimes jerking off and ejaculating all over the place.
“How the fuck you guys manage to accomplish anything is beyond me,” Thom fumes.
“This is our process.” Garrett blows him a kiss. “Deal with it.”
Jacob finally settles down and focuses his attention on me. “How do you feel about working some of the new song—'In Your Hands’ into the middle of ‘Queen of the Road’?” Jacob asks.
“Yeah, that was dope when you tried it at practice the other day,” Garrett chimes in.
“I was just messing around but I can make it work.”
“Is that new stuff?” Thom asks.
“Yeah,” Jacob answers. “Thought it might be fun to slip it in there. Shake things up a bit.”
“I like that,” Thom says, as if we asked for his blessing. I slide a look Alvin’s way and he lifts his gaze to the ceiling.
“How do you feel about Iron Kiss opening for you?” Thom asks, getting down to business whether we’re ready to or not.
“They seem cool,” Alvin says. “Still like to see them play before we make a final decision.”
“Do they reel in the fine, young snappers?” Jacob asks. “If so, they get my vote.” He waves his hand at me. “Chaser settling down with Mallory seems to be scaring all our hot groupies away.”
Garrett and Alvin both frown at him.
“Were you not just trying to dip your wick in Pamela’s inkwell?” Garrett asks.
“Dip my what, where?” Jacob grabs his crotch. “I’m at least a jumbo-size Sharpie.”
Alvin picks up a black marker from the table and studies it for a second before throwing it at Jacob. “I wouldn’t brag about that, bro.”
Thom’s face isn’t getting any less beet-red. “How have you not seen them play live yet?”
Kudos to Thom for side-stepping that whole dick-size detour. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve been a little busy on the road and writing material for the new album.”
“I don’t see the fire lately, guys.” Thom presses his fist against his gut. “I was always impressed with how hungry you were. You need that recapture that raw, gutter-punk edge that got you here.”
“Told ya.” Jacob points at me.
“There’s nothing wrong with growing artistically,” Alvin says.
“I’m talking about knowing your competition too.” Thom points to the door. “You knew every band on the strip back in the day. I know you did.”
“You’ve been managing us for ten minutes. Don’t lecture us on how we got here,” Garrett growls.
“It’s a big deal for us to headline, Thom,” I say as diplomatically as possible, since I’d rather punch him a few times instead. “We want to make a thoughtful decision.”
Alvin ducks his head and laughs.
I look over each of the guys. “We’ve worked hard to get to where we are right now—artistically, physically, and mentally. I’m not willing to jeopardize that by taking some random punks out on the road with us.”
“I’m glad everyone’s kicked their bad…habits.” Thom might as well be a hippo in a tutu dancing through a mind field while he tries to tiptoe around the word heroin. “But your…health is your responsibility. Every band…parties to some degree.”
Garrett lifts his arms and slow claps. “Ten points for not calling us drug addicts. Bravo, Thom.”
“Why are you guys busting my balls about this?”
I slap Thom’s shoulder. “We can’t afford any slip-ups. We’re being cautious.”
I catch Jacob’s eye and he stares back. While he’s stayed clean since Texas, I keep getting the impression he feels sobriety is a diet he can go off of once he hits a magic number, instead of a permanent lifestyle change. To say I’m worried about what the next few months will bring is a massive understatement.
Our worst nightmare would be him diving back into the junk while we’re on the road. I’ll do whatever I can to stop that from happening.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Mallory
The day I’ve been dreading is finally here.
“I’m going to miss you so much.” Chaser leans in and kisses my forehead. “Can’t wait for you to come visit.”
“Me too.”
“I’ll try to scope out a few places so we can do some sight-seeing. Eat some good food.”
“As long as I’m with you, I don’t care.”
“Thom says the house they rented for us is pretty big.”
“You sure you can tolerate living with the guys again?” I tease.
“No.”
Alvin comes up behind Chaser and jumps on his back, hugging him around the neck. “You’re excited. I can tell.”
“You miss us. Admit it, ya fucker!” Garrett shouts.
Chaser coughs and pulls Alvin off him. “I really don’t.”
“We miss you,” I whisper and wink at Alvin.
He walks over and gives me a gentler hug. “I’ll take good care of him, Mallory.”
“Take care of each other.” I tap his chest. “I expect sonic awesomeness from you guys.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Alvin salutes me and walks off.
“Still stuck on that sonic awesomeness, huh?” Chaser’s lips twitch in amusement.
“Yup, so if you use it in a song, I want credit.”
“Fuck, I’m going to miss you.” He picks me up and spins me around in a brief circle before setting me down in the grass. “Nail your auditions. Don’t take any shit from anyone. And if you get that callback from Ocean Ave. I want to know right away.”
“I will.” I swallow hard and force a smile on my face. This is it. They’re leaving. We decided last night I wouldn’t go to the airport with them. Chaser didn’t want to risk any paparazzi bothering me when he couldn’t be there to keep them awa
y.
He cups my face and tips my head back. “I’ll call you every night at eleven, okay? I’ll get you the numbers for the studio and the house. Call me whenever you need to. For any reason.”
“I will.” I reach up and squeeze him tight one last time. “Sonic awesomeness, Chaser.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chaser
Adapt or die. My dad tosses that saying around the clubhouse when brothers bitch about trying something new. Such as “the government’s coming down hard on drug selling of any kind, maybe it’s time the club look into selling weapons.” Adapt or die in prison, in that case.
My situation is less dire. Turns out, when everyone told us Mark Cutter was a demanding producer, I should’ve listened.
Talk about regimented. We’re not in the studio for a few hours a day and then left to run wild through the streets of Vancouver like Jacob had hoped. No, Mark puts us on a schedule that includes bed times and wake times.
Jacob didn’t take it well. Hell, none of us were thrilled. But Mark wasn’t cheap and we’ve produced some quality material the last couple weeks, so we adapted.
Adapt or languish in obscurity. We need to get this album out before people forget who we are.
The shower spray I’m currently under suddenly turns ice-cold. “What the fuck!” I yell, slapping the water off.
What I haven’t adapted to yet—living with these three clowns again.
Yup. Mark Cutter insisted we all rent a house together. It’s a big house, plenty of room to get away from each other but close enough for Jacob to wander into my room at all hours every single time a lyric pops into his head.
I snap a towel off the hook, wrap it around my waist, and storm out of the bathroom in search of someone to strangle. At least when the hot water runs out at home, it’s because Mallory and I were busy fucking in the shower. “Why the fuck is there no hot water?”
“Sorry, bro!” I only get a glimpse of Jacob’s naked ass scampering up the steps with two equally wet and naked females, but it’s enough to put the pieces together.
“Fucker,” I grumble.
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