by M. A. Foster
Nikki was last year’s winner on America’s Voice and the song she performed during the finale was written by yours truly.
“Introduce me,” Cole mumbles under his breath as we make our way over. He’s been bugging me about Nikki since we left the house. I can’t blame him. Nikki has an edginess to her that draws people in. Her chestnut brown hair is now electric blue and curled around her heart-shaped face, falling in waves just below her shoulders. She reminds me of a sexy cartoon pinup girl “with lips made for sucking”—Cole’s words, not mine.
“Hi, Jayla,” Nikki says as she stands from the table to greet me with a hug. “It’s so good to see you again. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Of course.” Nikki and I have only met a few times. We’re not friends, but she seems nice enough.
Evangeline can’t stand her. Shocker.
Nikki’s first album, It Girl—which features three songs also written by me—comes out next month. She’ll be opening for LAW on the “Wet and Wild Tour.”
Sweeping my hand toward Cole, I say, “Nikki, this is my cousin Cole. He’s a fan.” The last part earns me a pinch to my side.
“I was wondering who this hottie was.” Her hungry eyes rake over Cole from head to toe. Well, okay then. “You’re always surrounded by gorgeous men, Jayla. I’m so jelly.”
Ugh! I hate that word.
And with that, I leave Cole to it and pull out a chair beside Chandler.
“COME ON, KIDDO.” Andrew appears beside the table and extends his hand. “Come dance with your Uncle Drew.”
“Okay.” I giggle. Taking his hand, I push back from the table and rise from my seat, before he leads me to the dance floor. “Where’s Lucas? I haven’t seen him much tonight.” Actually, I haven’t seen Lucas or Andrew much in the past week.
“He’s probably hiding somewhere, trying to catch up on sleep. The band has been rehearsing nonstop.”
“I feel like I never see or talk to him anymore.”
Andrew gives me a tight smile. “He’ll come around. Just give him some time to work through it.”
Leaning back, I look up at Andrew, confused. “What are you talking about? Is he mad at me?”
“No, sweetheart, he’s not mad. He’s just… upset.”
“Upset with me? Why?”
“No.” He sighs. “Sweetheart, you gave us all one hell of a scare. Losing Marcus shattered Luc and me. And then you….” He shakes his head and blows out a shaky breath. “We were just worried about you. That’s all.”
“I scared him,” I finish. “He’s been snippy with me lately, but I thought it was because he was mad at me for hanging out with Ace.”
“Well, he’s not happy about that either,” Drew adds with a laugh.
“I need to talk to him. I’m okay, Uncle Drew. You believe me, don’t you?”
“You never have to ask.”
When our dance comes to an end, Andrew leads me back to the table. Cole and Nikki have disappeared, but Chandler and Jack are now joined by the remaining band members of Royal Mayhem, Tommy Stone and Chaz Vargas. All of them are eyeing me cautiously as if they know something I don’t. Something that could possibly set me off.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Chandler gestures to the empty chair in front of me. “Have a seat, sweetheart. We just want to talk to you.”
I pull out the chair and sit with my hands clasped in my lap.
Chandler leans forward with his forearms resting on the table. “I hadn’t planned on bringing this up tonight, but with Andrew going on the road with Lucas, and Tommy’s baby boy due any minute, I’m not sure when we’ll all be together like this again, and we’re running short on time.” Now that my dad is gone and Drew is leaving to go on tour with Lucas, Chandler has taken over the reins at King Records.
“Oookay.”
“I’d like to set the release date for Jaybird next May with the first single, ‘Piece of Me,’ to release the second week of February.”
“Whatever you think. You’re the boss.” I smile.
Chandler smirks. “We both know that’s not true. But that’s a conversation for another day.” Another day, as in the day I turn eighteen. Chandler’s expression changes from serious to uncomfortable as he looks around the table before turning his attention back to me. “I know this is going to be difficult for you—for all of you—but we need to discuss filling the spot for lead vocals.”
I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach.
I’ve been preparing myself for this conversation for months, yet somehow, being prepared doesn’t soften the blow. The thought of a stranger’s face replacing Marcus King—my father—as the frontman for Royal Mayhem makes me physically ill. Dad and Andrew started Royal Mayhem when they were my age. Although my dad had always been the one in charge, Andrew should still have a say. I can’t just hand over his hard work, his blood, sweat, and tears—his heart—to a total stranger.
I can’t do it.
I won’t.
It can only be one person.
Chandler continues, “We could hold auditions in December. That should give us plenty of time to—”
“What about Alex?” I interrupt and every head swivels my way. Clearing my throat, I continue, “I think Alex would be a perfect fit. He’s been a part of our family for a few years now. He knows every Royal Mayhem song ever written and performed. He spent the last two summers interning at King Records and working with my dad. He’s already familiar with the new material on Jaybird. Other than the people sitting at this table, there’s no one more qualified or deserving than Alex. We can trust him. Besides, don’t you think he could pass for a young Marcus King? That alone will win over the die-hard fans. They’ll eat that shit up.”
I look around the table to see everyone smiling at me.
“What?”
“I’m impressed,” Chandler says with a small laugh. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
I shrug. “I had a lot of time to think while I was on ‘vacation.’”
I get nothing but blank stares.
Too soon?
Andrew drops his forehead to the table and groans. “You’re killing me, kiddo.”
Chandler chuckles at my offhanded joke, cutting through the awkwardness. “Does anyone object or have anything to add?”
Everyone sounds their agreement with my choice. Chandler will schedule a one-on-one meeting with Alex first and, if he accepts the offer, then we’ll have a group meeting.
“For the record, Alex was Marcus’s choice, too, for the same reasons. But he wanted the decision to be yours,” Andrew informs me.
That explains why Andrew hadn’t taken over the decision-making for the band. He agreed with Marcus’s decision; they were all just waiting for me to make the obvious choice. Huh. “It was the right decision.” Chandler grins and I preen. “You’re gonna make one hell of a CEO one day, sweetheart.”
My stomach sinks.
Suddenly, my dress feels too tight and I begin to squirm in my seat, feeling uncomfortable in my own skin.
Is that a hive?
TOWARD THE END of the night, I find Bass, my oldest cousin, Dylan, Lucas, Evangeline, and Alex sitting around a table watching the band on stage. “Hi, B,” I say, kissing his cheek before plopping down on his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck. After that intense conversation with Chandler and the guys, I need Bass. He’s my security blanket, if you will. I’ll never be too old for cuddles from B. The man practically raised me along with my parents. He’s the closest thing to a father I have now. Sure, I have Uncle Drew and the guys from the band for support, but Bass and I live under the same roof, so he’s with me twenty-four seven.
A moment later, Cole appears at the table with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on his face. The front of his shirt is rumpled and his hair is a mess.
It’s blatantly obvious that he’s been off somewhere doing the dirty, presumably with Nikki Fox. Not even semi famous pop stars can resist the Cole Mackenzie cha
rm.
I curl my lip and give him a disgusted look.
“What?” He smirks.
“You’re unbelievable.” I shake my head. “Do you ever keep it in your pants?”
“Sure, I do.” He winks.
I roll my eyes.
Alex and Dylan shake their heads. “Mom and Dad would be so proud,” Dylan says sarcastically.
“Shut up,” Cole says, scowling at his older brother.
“You’re lucky this is a private affair, Cole, or your face would be all over the Internet. My Little Pony is a superstar and the cameras love her,” Evangeline states.
“Who?”
Evangeline rolls her eyes. “Nikki Fox.”
Cole barks out a laugh. “Did you just call her My Little Pony?”
“Shhh, keep your voice down,” I say, looking around before pointing at Evangeline. “Weenie, knock it off. Your dad will be pissed if he hears you talking shit about her.”
Evangeline shrugs.
“I’m not talking shit about her,” Cole says. “That sexy little blue-haired freak knows how to work a microphone.” He wiggles his eyebrows before laughing at his own joke, slapping the table, prompting everyone at the whole table to guffaw and people at nearby tables to look our way. Even Bass’s big body is shaking under me.
“Nice one,” Evangeline approves, holding up her hand for a high five as Alex rests his head against her shoulder to mask his amusement.
“You’re both crazy,” I say, shaking my head.
Dylan is still not amused.
Cole says to Dylan, “Don’t worry, Dad. I was careful. It was a one-night, one-time special performance.”
“Enough, you two,” I chastise as I stand and hold out my hand. “Lucas, come with me for a minute.”
“Why?” he snaps.
“Because I’m asking you to.” I wiggle my fingers, urging him to take my hand. “Stop being a jerk face, Lucas, and come with me,” I demand in a harsher tone, letting him know I’m serious.
Lucas huffs like a child but gets up from the table, brushing past my extended hand and walking out of the ballroom to a private lounge area near the bathrooms. He stops short and I nearly slam into his back. Turning around with his brows raised, he questions, “What’s up?”
Fisting his shirt in my hand, I drag Lucas inside the lounge. Turning to face him, I cross my arms over my chest. It’s what I do when I’m gearing up for an argument. “I know you’re upset with me, so let’s do this.”
“Not really,” he says, shrugging and shoving his hands in his pockets, avoiding my eyes.
Cupping his face, I tilt his head, forcing him to look at me. “Lucas, yes, you are. I’m sorry if I hurt you, but you’re acting as if it was personal. I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, including myself. I was sad and depressed. I know you well enough, Lucas Wild, to know that if it were Andrew who’d died, you’d be exactly where I was.”
Lucas jerks forward and wraps his arms around me, burying his face in my hair. “I know,” he admits, his voice muffled. Pulling back, he stares down at me. “You scared the shit out of me, Jay. You didn’t see what I saw that day. I should’ve just stayed with you until you got better.”
“Don’t do that, Lucas. Don’t blame yourself. Everyone is blaming themselves. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s grief. You know I would never do anything to hurt myself on purpose. That’s not who I am.” I start to cry. “I promise you I’m okay now. But I’d be even better if you’d stop being so mean to me.”
“I’m not being mean.” He hugs me tighter. “You know I’m not good at expressing my feelings. I know I’m not around much, but you’re still my little sister and I love the hell out of you.”
“You should’ve talked to me. All this time, I thought you were pissed because I was hanging out with Ace.”
“You’re right.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “And I am pissed that you’ve been hanging out with Ace. He knows you’re off limits.” It’s a good thing Lucas wasn’t around earlier when Ace attempted to stick his tongue down my throat. Dick. I shut that shit down real quick.
“We’re just—” I’m about to tell Lucas that Ace and I are just friends when the bathroom door opens and Ace stumbles out, tucking in his shirt and sweeping a hand through his disheveled faux-hawk, followed by a familiar head of blue hair.
Oh.
My.
God.
Perfect example of why I’d never get involved with a rock star.
“See? You have nothing to worry about,” I say with a humorless laugh.
Ace turns his head at the sound of my voice. “Oh, heeeeey,” he drawls slowly, squinting. “Jayla, baby. What’s up?”
I bark out a laugh because really?
Nikki Fox is a big ol’ slut. Who knew?
Wonder what Cole would say about his one-time performance giving an encore in the bathroom.
“Looks like that’s going to make for an interesting tour. We’ll talk more later.”
“YOU READY TO go, Princess?” Bass’s large frame fills my bedroom doorway. He leans against the doorframe with his hands shoved in the front pockets of his jeans.
“No,” I reply honestly, shaking my head and fighting back the tears. “I’m not ready. I know he’s not physically here, but he is here. He’s everywhere in this house. This is where he died, B.” I cover my face with my hands to hide the unpreventable ugly cry. “I still feel him. I can’t leave him and all of the memories we made in this house behind.” Pulling my hands from my face, I wipe my damp palms down the front of my dress. “I’m sorry, B. I can’t do this.”
It’s only been six months since my dad passed and already everything is changing. I know I promised Dr. Ramos that I’d try, but I don’t think I’m ready to make this move.
Bass wipes away his own tears as he takes a step forward and pulls me into his arms. I thought I was ready for a fresh start and a chance to be a normal teenager for a while, but I can’t leave the only home I’ve ever known and all the memories it holds.
I can’t leave my dad.
Bass pulls back and cups my cheek. “Princess, we’re not leaving him. He lives in here now.” He taps my chest. “And the memories are in here.” He moves his finger to my temple. “We have to move forward. You have to trust Emerson to do what’s best for you and you have to trust me to take care of you.” He lifts my chin so I’m looking up at him. “Do you trust us?”
With a slight nod and a heavy sigh, I grab my oversized handbag and follow Bass to the door. Grabbing the handle, I glance over my shoulder one last time before closing the door on my past.
“GOOD AFTERNOON, MISS King,” George, our pilot, greets as I step inside the brand-new jet called The Jaybird, of course. A gift from my dad.
“Hi, George.” I return the greeting with a hug before scanning the interior of my new jet. Cream-colored leather sofa and bucket seats with a shiny wood-grain table between them. A small kitchen and a bedroom with a queen-sized bed and full-sized bathroom, complete with a bathtub and stand-up shower.
It’s beautiful.
A bit over the top, but I know his heart was in the right place.
I always had nice things growing up, but I’ve never thought of myself as spoiled. I knew my parents had money, but they weren’t the type to spend it on extravagant material things just to show off their wealth. Our garage wasn’t filled with expensive sports cars and toys. My dad had one car, a 2013 Range Rover Sport, which he gave to me when I turned sixteen. We lived in a beautiful house on Malibu Beach and had a couple of vacation homes—a villa in St. Thomas and an apartment in New York City—all of which they considered good investments. They were smart with their money.
My parents taught me early on not to take life or this lifestyle for granted because it could all be gone tomorrow. If I wanted nice things, I had to work for them.
So, I did.
I started earning my own money writing music. I built up a nice bank account for myself, too. I didn’t have the kind of money my pa
rents had, but I could get by for a while if I had to. The best part is that it’s mine. And I haven’t even started earning royalties from Jaybird yet.
Just a few days after the charity dinner, Mom and I met with my dad’s attorneys, including Jack Reynolds, for the reading of his will.
Yes, it took me three months to finally get there.
When all was said and done, I had more money than I could spend in a lifetime, most of it set up in a trust to be disbursed monthly. He also left me the villa in St. Thomas—which used to be my favorite place until a certain someone ruined it for me—as well as the apartment in New York City. Forty percent of King Records—once I turn eighteen—making me the majority shareholder. And my own private jet.
He left me everything.
According to my mom, those investments had always been meant for me.
And why would he buy me a jet, when King Records already had two? It’s not like I traveled all over the world. When I asked, Jack’s eyes shifted to my mom with a look that clearly said “This is where you jump in.”
She shifted in her seat beside me. I turned my head in time to see her blow out a breath before she said, “Jayla, we’re leaving California. Indefinitely.”
Turns out, my dad had this planned all along. Mom wasn’t exactly thrilled with his plan, considering it involved us moving back to her hometown, Heritage Bay, the one place she swore she’d never go back to. However, the rest of the family is ecstatic that we’re coming home. Mom told me that my dad built us a new home. All I know is that it’s in a private gated community only minutes away from my grandparents and the rest of the Mackenzies.
I’ll be attending Heritage Academy with my cousin Cole. Mom, along with the Mayhem Foundation, has been in contact with the principal of Heritage Academy, who was more than excited to be the first school to represent the Project Mayhem class. This year, the foundation gave out nine scholarships and, if things go well, the class will expand next year, meaning more scholarships and more teachers. I look forward to being a part of the first Project Mayhem class.