“Ferica.”
“Hey, John, it’s Dred Zander. How’re you doing?”
“Dred Zander,” he said in a long drawn-out drawl. “Gimme a minute, will ya?”
He heard John mumbling instructions to someone else in the room.
“Sorry about that, Dred, I’m back. Can I say we’re all thrilled with how well the box set did over the holidays? Worked out great. Got us some great momentum in the first quarter that’s carried through into this one. How’s the album coming along?”
Either the guy was dumb or was playing him. “Well, I think you know, right? You spoke to Sam this morning.”
“No. Haven’t spoken to Sam in a while. In fact, it’s been so long, I was thinking of giving you guys a shout. I’m interested in hearing where this album’s taking you.”
Dred ran his hand through his hair. “What do you mean you haven’t heard from Sam in a while? We had a list of issues we asked him to bring to you and he told us you blew them off.” Dred opened the window to let in some air. He was suddenly uncomfortable.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I don’t know about Sam, man. I always said you needed someone with a shit-load more experience. What’s on your mind?”
“The timing of the European leg of tour and the album is really tight, but we can just about pull it off if we didn’t have to do all that other stuff you ask for. Like the festivals and all the publicity events.”
“Look, Dred, we asked Sam if you guys thought you could manage the timing of the tour and album and he told me you all agreed,” John replied.
Dred tugged on his anchor. “Sam told us it was non-negotiable. It’s been a fucking shit-show trying to get it done.”
“We didn’t ask for you to do Brazil. I mean, it’s all good publicity, but the album and tour have always been our priority.”
“So the tour? Did you say I couldn’t bring my family along?”
“No, Dred. I had no clue you had a family. Congrats, man. Listen. I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but sounds like Sam isn’t on the up. Talk with the guy. Fire him if you have to. Let me help you find a new agent. Send me a list of what you need to make the tour happen. Sales from you guys over the past two years have kept us all in jobs. You’re one of our best earners. If you’ll forgive the pun, you’re fucking rock stars.”
Dred’s chest tightened. Sam had been their friend for nearly a decade. Either Sam or John was lying. His sense of loyalty told him to defend his friend, but he sensed no deception from John. And he was relieved by not having to confront the label about Petal and Pixie joining him on tour.
He pulled up outside a redbrick building. “John, I just got to the recording studio, can I get the rest of the guys together and call you back in five?”
“Sure, but it’ll have to be later. I got meetings from nine until one, but gimme a ring back then.”
“Thanks, John.”
He ended the call, then thanked the driver before stepping out of the car.
His next call was to the head of security at the American Airlines Arena.
Perhaps they could help him figure out who was telling the truth.
* * *
Pixie’s heart skipped a beat as she turned the corner and walked toward Second Circle. Petal was wide awake and looking at the world around her. But even the sight of her cute dark eyes that looked like Dred’s couldn’t calm the turmoil inside. It wasn’t unusual for her to swing by on her day off, but she’d chosen today because she knew Trent and Cujo were both on the opening shift, which was a rare occurrence. And she had something to discuss with them.
She knocked on the window. Cujo waved and headed to the front door to open it for her.
“Morning, Pix. Here, let me get that,” he said, reaching for the stroller.
“I know it’s early, but I wondered if I could talk with you and Trent for a minute,” she said nervously.
“Sure. He’s in the office.”
Petal started to cry, and Pixie stepped toward the stroller to get her out, but Cujo stopped her. “I got this. Did it enough with Amaya and Zeph. Go ahead, I’ll catch up.”
The door to the office was open and Trent was at the large table, sketching what looked like an image of the Hindu goddess Kali.
“Hey, Pix,” he said, finishing off the curve of an arm. “I left Dred at the TV studio if you’re looking for him.”
She took the seat next to him. “No. He knows I was coming here. I wanted to talk to you and Cujo.”
Trent put his pen down and rolled up the sketch, before sliding it into a brown tube.
“Hey,” Cujo said in a high-pitched voice as he walked into the room, wiggling Petal’s arm as he spoke. “I want my first tattoo done by Cujo, just sayin’.”
Pixie could have sworn Petal smiled. It appeared that no females, not even baby ones, could resist Cujo when he turned on the charm.
“So, what’s up?” Trent asked her, leaning back in his chair.
“I’m ready to tell you. I want you to know,” she said.
Cujo reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “You know it doesn’t change anything, right? What you say?” He took a seat on the other side of her.
“Yeah. I know. It’s taken me a while to get ready to talk about it. You see, when you met me, I had just run away from my mom’s trailer in Pahokee because I was abused by my stepfather.”
Dred had made her say it. The night he’d forgotten and held her hands above her head again. The look of sheer desperation on his face was heartbreaking. He was furious with himself for forgetting. Pixie had started to apologize, but he wouldn’t hear of it. You were abused by your stepfather, Pixie. You never have to apologize. When she’d argued that she did, he’d made her say it.
Say it, Pixie. Tell me you know he abused you.
“Oh, Pix,” Trent said, reaching for her hand.
Cujo cursed under his breath.
She explained what he did to her, and watched the faces and actions of the two men who mattered most to her in the world, beside Dred. Cujo got up and paced. Sure, it was under the guise of Petal being fractious, but the truth was, she’d barely murmured since he got her out of the stroller.
Trent leaned forward and gripped her hand.
“Arnie rushed back into the trailer and started yelling, asking me what I had done over and over. I wanted to call an ambulance, but Arnie told me not to. He said he’d make it go away. And I assumed that for once, we were on the same side. That he felt some kind of responsibility for setting it up. So once I realized he was going to take care of it, I ran to my room, grabbed my bag, and left.”
“That was a ballsy move, Pix,” Cujo said as he let Petal grip his finger.
“Yeah, but I didn’t realize then that he had taken a photograph of me standing there. I mean, who the fuck can think about taking a picture at a time like that? But the rest you know. I was mugged as soon as I got here. All the money I had been saving from my diner job was gone. I had a twenty in my pocket and can’t even remember why I kept it out of my wallet. I’d come to Miami Beach thinking that if worst came to worst, I could use the public showers to get cleaned up while I tried to find a job. But you saw the state I was in. I had no idea how addicted I’d become.”
Cujo sat back down next to her and propped Petal against his chest, patting her back softly. “So when did Arnie come back around?”
“About a week after the end of Dred’s tour. He saw the photograph taken at the concert in that magazine. Said his girlfriend showed him. At first, I didn’t know what he wanted. Then one time he took fifty dollars from my purse. He asked for more money to go away. I thought it was worth it to buy some time while I figured out what to do. But he got greedy. He kept coming back, telling me how easy it would be to get the money from you,” she said, looking at Trent. “Or Dred.”
“You could have come to us, you know,” Cujo said.
She faced him. “I know, but to what end? We would have been paying him off forever. I
f I had gone to the police about the blackmail, he would have made sure they saw the photograph.”
“So what did you and Dred do in Pahokee?”
“We found my mom and followed the trail until we found out that Brewster is alive and well and living in Hollywood.”
“Son of a bitch,” Trent exclaimed. “So he was alive all this time?”
“Yeah, well, maybe not so much once Dred beat the living crap out of him.”
“Wish I could have helped,” Cujo said gruffly.
Pixie nodded. “Dred has found me an amazing lawyer. We’re going to see her next week. I’m not even sure what the statute of limitations is on stuff like this. And he didn’t actually rape me, so at best it’s some kind of assault charge or something about me still being a minor. I feel sick at the thought that he is married and might have kids. What if he . . . well, I can’t live with the idea that someone else suffers because I didn’t speak up.”
“Well, we’ll be with you every step of the way. We’ll do whatever you need, right, Cuj?”
“Of course, we’ve got your back, Pix.”
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Over and over in front of the mirror this morning, she’d said to herself, You will keep your shit together.
Pixie took a deep breath before she answered. “Thanks, both of you. For this. For saving me all those years ago. You’ve been the best family I could have wished for.”
“Speaking of family,” Cujo said, looking down at Petal, then back to her, “you want to tell us what else is on your mind?”
“I wanted to ask if there was a way for me to drop to part time,” she said bravely, despite the way she was shaking all the way down to her knees.
“You don’t want to leave?” Trent asked. “Perhaps move somewhere colder?”
Pixie shook her head. “No, not yet. I’ve only known Dred for what, seven months, and we’ve been together a lot less. And there’s all this with Arnie, and Dred has a tour coming up. No. I’m going to stay where I am for now, but going down to part time will enable me to start up my business and give me a little more flexibility to fly out and see Dred while he’s on the road.”
“Yes,” Cujo said.
“Yep,” Trent agreed.
“It’s that simple?” she asked.
“Of course it is,” Cujo said, making a funny face at Petal. “Look, she’s smiling at me.”
“She’s got gas,” Trent added with a laugh. “Yeah, it’s that simple, Pix. We’ve been thinking about expanding. We’re constantly turning away people right now. So Cujo and I have been chatting about adding two more artists and a body-mod expert. Perhaps the body-mod expert doubles as a part-time office manager too while they build their client list. By the time they do that, you’ll have a better idea of where you want to be.”
Pixie shook her head. “I don’t know what to say, guys. I love you both.”
There was a knock at the door, and Drea walked in wearing her work uniform. “Here’s your gym bag as instructed, Mr. Bossy—whoa!”
Pixie could see the exact moment Drea realized the man she was madly in love with was holding a baby.
Cujo waved Petal’s hand. “Hey, Drea,” he said in a baby voice. Drea sighed.
Trent laughed. “Oh my God. Harper was the same. Ga-ga over a baby.”
Drea put her hand over her heart.
“Put that look away,” Cujo laughed. “None of these until there’s a ring on your finger and your university degree certificate is nailed to our wall.”
Pixie could feel the love between Cujo and Drea. She felt the comfort from Trent holding her hand in his, and looked at Petal blowing bubbles.
Sometimes, it really was that simple.
* * *
Dred wandered into the studio, his mind drifting in a thousand different directions. He owed it to Sam to speak to him before he fired his ass for the misery he’d created. But first he needed to explain to the band what was going on.
Their producer, Stu, was sitting at his desk. “Morning, Dred. Ready to get those lyrics wrapped up from yesterday?”
“Hey, Stu. Can I get five with the guys first?”
“Yeah, I’ll go get caffeine. Long day today, right?”
Dred focused on the guys. Lennon was sitting behind his kit with one headphone on as he warmed up to play. Nikan was bouncing around as he played a series of notes for a song they hadn’t recorded yet. Jordan sat quietly on a stool in the corner, and Elliott had his back against the wall, mindlessly sipping on coffee. It was going to hurt them all to find out what he’d learned.
Putting his feelings aside, he walked into the studio.
“Glad one of us is getting some,” Elliott said with a grin. “Wish I had a good reason to be late.”
“Fuck off, dude. I had that TV thing this morning. Anyway, I need to talk to you guys.”
Nikan pulled his strap over his shoulder and put the guitar back on its stand. Lennon slotted his sticks into their holder on the side of his drum.
“What’s up?” Jordan asked.
“I just got off the phone with John Ferica. I think Sam is screwing us over.”
“You serious?” Lennon stepped out from behind his kit.
“Yeah. Ferica said he knew nothing about the concerns we had. Said he’d not heard from Sam in a while and was wondering what we were up to.”
“Any reason why Ferica might lie to us?” Elliott asked.
Dred walked over to a stool and sat down. “I don’t know, El. Possibly. But I honestly didn’t get that vibe from John. He seemed genuinely surprised. He didn’t know about Petal, or our concerns. Said he didn’t give a shit about the festival stuff as long as we nail the album and tour.”
Nikan leaned against the studio wall. “What made you call him?”
“I got a message from Sam this morning saying he’d spoken to John about our requests, and that they wanted us to just keep going. I was pissed, so I called him.” Dred switched his phone from hand to hand.
“Fuck. So you definitely caught him in a lie,” Jordan added. “So what do we do?”
“Well, I placed a couple of calls. You remember how pissed I was when the photograph of me and Pix at the Miami gig hit that trash mag?”
The guys nodded.
“Yeah,” Lennon said. “It was early days for you and her, right?”
“It was. Well, I asked Sam to help us figure out who it was. He said he called the arena and security had told him there was no camera coverage of where we were standing.”
“It feels like there’s going to be a but in there somewhere,” Lennon said.
“There is. I called the head of security at the arena,” Dred replied. “He was very obliging once I convinced him who I was.”
Jordan cracked his knuckles. “Let me guess. Sam never called.”
“Not according to security. He’s reviewing the footage now.”
Nikan pushed away from the wall. “Shit.”
Dred’s phone buzzed in his hand. John Ferica.
“Hey, John. What’s up?”
“Your call bothered me. I wanted to know what the deal is with Sam. One of my guys found out he is doing the rounds with publishers, touting a book about you guys.”
He didn’t want to know. Really didn’t want to confirm what he was already suspecting. “What kind of book?” Expectant eyes were on him.
“A tell-all exposé. You guys got some big secrets we need to know about?”
Dred looked around the room. Secrets. They had more secrets than the Catholic Church, the CIA, and every episode of The X-Files combined. They were fucked. He looked at Jordan and Lennon, who’d had the biggest psychological issues to overcome; he looked at Elliott, who at some level or another had to fight his compulsions every day. Then at Nikan, who was never more than a step away from his next drink. His own secrets were nothing compared to those. They’d been broken. Unwanted. For all that to be printed on a page was unfathomable.
“It’ll get messy,” was all Dred could think
of.
“Okay. Call me back at one. I’ll get the full team in. PR and legal, especially. See if we can figure this out. You need to cease all contact with Sam. Want us to do that for you?”
“No. We got it.”
Dred hung up. All eyes were on him. It was up to him to get them through this. “Whatever I say after this,” he told them, “just remember we have made it through worse.”
Something like this wasn’t going to break them apart. “We need to fire Sam. He’s trying to sell a book about us. An exposé.”
If he’d had to predict their responses to the news, he would have been correct. Lennon got up and kicked the stool across the studio. Jordan didn’t move. Nikan cursed and paced. Elliott looked him straight in the eye.
“We need to think about what we’ve told him over the years. Like what does he actually know?” Dred explained. “We have to assume he knows everything about the last decade, but before that?”
They spent the next couple of hours going through what Sam knew. It was a helpful exercise. And while Sam didn’t know as much as they feared, he still knew enough to lay them wide open and bleeding to their fans. But Dred was more concerned with the personal cost. It sickened him that people might find out their personal histories. The effects could be destructive.
Dred’s phone pinged.
Easy to find. Four minutes past midnight. Let me know if you need anything else.
The head of security had attached a short video clip. There in the shadows of the arena, pointing his phone directly toward where Pixie and Dred were kissing, was Sam.
While they geared up for the one o’clock conference call with John, Dred excused himself to call Pix. She needed to know what was going on. As much as he hated dumping more shit on her, they’d promised to always share the good and the bad. He stepped outside the studio for some privacy and fresh air. He considered quickly running over to the condo. The studio they’d rented was only a block away, but he wasn’t sure if she was out for one of her walks with Petal. There was a message on his phone from her.
Hey Daddy, it’s Pixie and Petal. Can you say hi to Daddy?
He smiled as Petal started to join in on the call with her favorite ooh-ooh sound. She’d found her voice over the last week.
The Purest Hook (Second Circle Tattoos) Page 26