by Erin Osborne
“What’s going on?” Diesel asks.
“There’s a new girl in the building. She has an amazing voice and I think it’s exactly what we’ve been looking for,” I tell my bandmates.
“So, this is about a bitch?” Memphis asks.
“No. It’s about the band and adding a missing quality to our sound. She’s shy and I don’t know what it’s going to take for her to sing in front of you, but she was singing Took My Heart and Broke It in the laundry room the other day and floored me,” I explain to the guys.
“So, you’re talking to us and don’t even know if she’s gonna be willing to sing in front of us?” Tyson questions.
“Yeah. I want this to happen,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders.
“If she can’t sing in front of us, how do you expect her to get on stage for thousands of people?” Damon asks.
“Look, I don’t know much about her. From what I can see, she’s shy and wants to hide from the world. She’s been hurt by someone. But, she’s never had voice lessons and I know this is what we need,” I tell them.
“I’ve seen her. She has been hurt. I think if we can convince her to sing in front of us, she’ll work on stage fright. Or, she’ll surprise us all and it won’t be an issue for her,” Diesel says, backing me up.
For a few minutes, we all sit lost in our own thoughts. Onyx is filling mine and trying to come up with a plan to get her to sing for us. Tyson, standing suddenly, heads for the door. The rest of us look at one another and try to figure out what crawled up his ass. Before I can spend too much time contemplating his actions, there’s a knock on the door and our dinner is here.
I pay for our dinner and bring it to the kitchen as the men surround me and fill their plates, grabbing another beer before taking their seats back on the couch. I sit back down as I hear someone knocking on Onyx’s door. Yeah, there’s no soundproofing in the walls here. I can hear all of her movements on the other side of the wall.
She’s been hammering away all afternoon. When we were at lunch, the only thing she said she was going to do the rest of the day is put her place together. I’d love to be there helping her. Instead I’m over here trying to figure out how to get her to sing for us and show the guys her voice and capabilities.
My thoughts are still consumed by her as the guys talk amongst themselves. I can’t even begin to tell you what, or who, they’re talking about. When they laugh, I don’t join in, I sit in my own little world, eating and drinking. I feel at peace when I think of Onyx and how much I want her in my life. That’s something I’ve never felt when thinking of a woman. As far as I’ve been concerned, they were only good for one thing and that’s to find release and move on to the next.
Chapter Seven
Onyx
I’M PUTTING THE finishing touches on my living room when there’s a knock at my door. Trepidation fills me once again at the thought of my dad being on the other side of the door. Or Knight. Instead I find another member of Wicked Angels standing there. This time it’s Tyson Sanford. What the hell have I done to the universe to cause these men to infiltrate my life.
Opening the door, I wait for the man before me to speak. I’m tongue-tied and not sure what to say as he takes in my appearance. I let my hair hang down over my face as he continues to look at me. I’m about to turn and shut the door when he holds out his hand to me.
“I’m Tyson Sanford,” he says. “Are you Onyx?”
“I am,” I mutter on a breathless voice.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You can,” I say.
“You can really sing? With natural talent?” he asks, never letting his gaze waver from me.
“I guess I can,” I tell him.
“Come sing for us?” he questions.
“W-w-who?” I ask him.
“The guys in the band. There’s no pressure, but Knight sees something in you and he’s not gonna give up,” Tyson tells me. “We’ve got pizza over there for dinner and I know there’s some beer in the fridge.”
“Oh, I can’t drink. I’m not old enough yet,” I tell him.
Tyson smirks at me and I’m not sure why. My innocence is on full display in this moment and I feel extremely vulnerable. This is why I’ve hidden from the outside world and never let anyone close to me. It’s why I’ve felt so alone and miserable my entire life.
“That’s okay. He’s got other things to drink too,” Tyson says, grabbing for my hand to lead me over to Knight’s apartment.
As I walk in the door, I take a look around. The layout in Knight’s apartment is the same as mine from what I can see. His kitchen wall is on the opposite side of my living room. No wonder I can hear his movements and the faint music he plays on the TV.
Paintings adorn the walls along with pictures of the band from the beginning of their career until now. I look at each one as Tyson moves me further into the room. The thing capturing my attention is the silence of the room when there was laughter and talking when we came in the door. Now, it’s deafening with how loud the silence is.
“What’s going on?” Knight asks as my eyes finally meet his.
“You wanted to come up with this elaborate plan to get Onyx to sing for us. All I did was walk over and ask her to,” Tyson answers his question.
“Are you okay with this?” Knight asks, walking to my side in a few steps.
Nodding my head, I face the room filled with band members of Wicked Angels. Each man is looking at me with anticipation in their eyes. I’m not sure what Knight told them, but it looks as if he’s built me up to them and I’m not sure if I’m going to live up to the hype he’s built. Only time will tell.
“You don’t have to do this, Onyx,” Knight says, trying to make me comfortable and realize the ball’s in my court now.
“I want to. It’s okay,” I say, offering him a small, weak smile.
The guys remain sitting on the couch while I turn my back to them all. I don’t want to face them while I sing the lyrics to their own song. It’s unnerving.
There’s no movement or anyone talking as I begin to sing the opening cords of Took My Heart and Broke It. My eyes remain close as I sing with every fiber of my being. I don’t need to look at anyone or see the looks on their faces to know how bad I’m doing.
When I get to the chorus of the song, I let loose and sing from deep in my soul. I use the pain of my mom leaving me and the pain of my dad only using me to sing the words I’ve associated with my life since the first time I ever heard the song. My voice trails off when I finish the chorus, not wanting to continue singing in front of an audience.
I keep my back to the men in the living area as I fiddle with the edge of the pizza box. A large, warm hand covers mine as I become nervous, more than I already was anyway. Looking up, I look directly into Knight’s bright blue eyes. There’s admiration, shock, and another look I can’t discern staring back at me along with my reflection.
“That’s natural talent?” one of the guys asks. “Sign her the fuck up.”
“That was fucking amazing,” another voice chimes in.
Still, I’m locked in Knight’s gaze and everything begins to fade away. I want nothing more than for Knight Wheeler to kiss me in this moment. It doesn’t even matter if it’s only one night from him. I’ll take what I can get as I get lost in his eyes.
A shudder runs through my body as one of the guys bumps into me accidently in his quest to get more pizza. Knight pulls me into his body and wraps his arms protectively around me as he steps further back from the island where the food sits.
“I have no words for what you just did in here,” Knight suddenly says. “I want you in the band, Onyx.”
“I don’t know about all that,” I tell him, letting a nervous laugh out. “But, I’ll get out of your way and let you boys have your night back.”
“Wait, where you going?” Tyson asks.
“I’m going home. I need to make dinner and finish working,” I tell him, stepping out of Knight’s embrace.
<
br /> “Stay and eat with us. Then you won’t have to worry about cleaning up after cooking. We can talk about the songs and you joining Wicked Angels,” Tyson says, grabbing a plate and handing it to me.
The rest of the guys surround me, all wanting to talk at once. I’m about to combust having this many people around me when I normally hide from everyone. This is what I want though, to live on my own and make my own choices, so I have to get used to it. Or go back to hiding and then I’m still not living my life.
Grabbing a few slices of pizza, I walk over to the couch and sit down. Knight doesn’t leave my side as the rest of the guys all continue to crowd around me. They all want to talk to me and I’m waiting for them to start, not saying a word. I don’t know what the hell to say. About any of this. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be sitting in Knight’s apartment eating dinner with the members of Wicked Angels.
“Onyx, please tell me you’ll consider joining the band?” Diesel asks.
“I don’t know about all that. I’ve never sung in front of anyone before and I’m not sure if I’d be able to sing in front of the crowds you do. That’s a lot of people when you’re used to hiding from everyone,” I answer.
Taking a bite of my pizza, I relish the hot cheese and sauce as it hits my tongue, the flavor exploding like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. This is the first time I’ve had the food and I know I’ll be ordering it on a regular basis now that I’ve had a sample.
While I continue eating, the guys all talk about the new album and what my sound can bring to it. They try to make sure I know they all want me in the band— it’s not just Knight wanting to bring me in. After telling them I’ll think about it, I make my way into the kitchen to throw my plate away and head home.
“Onyx, thank you,” Knight says, walking me to the door.
“I didn’t do anything,” I reply, softly closing my door behind me and locking it.
I take a minute to catch my breath and look around at the work I’ve managed to get done today. Seeing the progress, I decide to relax in a hot bath before heading to bed. Too much has happened, and I need to process it, not worry about the work I have to do. I’ve got time to do all that.
As I climb into bed in another short set, I let the warmth of the bath lull me to sleep. Images of Knight fill my head as sleep consumes me. His face leaning in for a kiss is the last thing I see before darkness claims me.
Chapter Eight
Knight
ISABELLA HAS BEEN blowing my phone up for two days. She wants us in the studio recording the next album and I refuse to go without Onyx agreeing to be on it, but I haven’t seen her since the night she came to my place and sang for the guys. I’m not sure if she’s busy or avoiding me.
Today, the guys have come over to drag my ass to the studio. The only reason I’m going is to ensure Isabella makes it happen for Onyx to sing with us. She won’t like me if I don’t get what I want. At the end of the day, Wicked Angels is our band and she’s nothing more than a manager. I can, and will, fire her ass and bring on someone new who won’t take advantage of us.
There’s no concrete proof of her using us for money or anything else, but the last few months, Isabella’s attitude has changed. If she wants something, we better jump to her demands or she gets pissed. Then she tells us the label isn’t going to be happy with us. Honestly, I don’t know how much of what she’s trying to get us to do is even coming from our label. I’ll have to look into it.
As soon as we enter the studio, Isabella begins fawning all over me. She’s touching me and trying to get me to talk to her. The only thing I want to do is record a few songs and go home. Onyx can’t hide forever, and I want to see her. No, I need to see her.
The guys and I head in to begin recording. I stop mid stride and look at Isabella. She plasters a fake as hell smile on her face.
“We need to talk,” I tell her, turning around and shutting the door to the soundproof room.
“About what?” she asks, getting nervous.
“I want to add a member to the band. Her name is Onyx and she’s exactly what this album needs to be amazing. Make it happen,” I tell her.
“I don’t think the label will let you add anyone now. Your band has been working for so long and they want to keep it as is,” she answers, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.
“I don’t care. We all want her in the band. Make it happen,” I repeat.
“Knight, they’re not going to let you add anyone. I don’t need to make the call to know that,” she tries again.
“Then I’ll make the call myself and see what else you’ve been lying about,” I tell her, pulling my phone from my pocket.
“You don’t need to call them. Knight, just go in and record the album. I’ll see what I can do in the next few days,” Isabella says.
“I’ll be back when you call them and make it happen. I’m not recording without her,” I tell our manager as her face pales and I leave the building.
Is it a dick move to walk out on a recording session? Yes. Do I care? Nope.
Wicked Angels has been signed to our label for years now . . . six to be exact. I’ve never asked for anything or wanted to add anyone to our sound. The second the band as a whole decides to make a change Isabella doesn’t like, she tries to railroad me. I’m not going to stand for it.
The guys will back me up, I don’t have an issue with them. And they’ll understand where I’m coming from. We’re all burnt out, we want to change things up, and someone will listen to us. If we have to get a new manager to make it happen, that’s what we’ll do. Isabella can work for a different band, one who won’t make her the money we make her.
She gets a percentage of our album sales, merchandise, ticket sales, and she gets to go on tour with us. The band is popular, and we sell out every venue we perform in. I don’t see that changing anytime soon, so if she wants to maintain her lifestyle, she’ll make it happen or she’ll be out on her ass. The decisions aren’t hers to make— they’re ours.
“What?” I bark into my phone, seeing Isabella’s name displayed.
“She can be added. The label loves the idea,” Isabella tells me, keeping her voice distant.
She’s pissed I got my way and I’m sure the label chewed her a new ass. They want her to make the big decisions, not call on them every time we want something. She usually lets us get what we want, so I’m not sure why this is any different.
“I’ll be back in a while,” I tell her hanging up.
Beginning to run, I make my way to the apartment complex. Onyx’s car is parked in her spot underground. She’s home. Now, it’s just a matter of getting her to answer the door. And convince her to come to the studio with me.
I take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator to get to the ground floor. Running up them two at a time, I fly as fast as I can to our floor. As soon as I get there, I run to her door and pound on it. It takes her a few minutes to answer the door as I stand there catching my breath.
“Knight, what are you doing here?” she asks, covering her body with her robe.
“I need you to get dressed in comfortable clothes and come with me,” I tell her, walking in her apartment when she steps to the side.
“Where am I going?” she asks, closing the door behind me.
“To the studio. I walked out when our manager didn’t want to talk about bringing you in. She’s agreed to it and we have to get there to start recording the next album,” I tell her.
“But . . . ” she trails off.
“No buts. I know you’ve been hiding from someone or something. That ends now. Start living your life, Onyx,” I tell her, wanting this more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Onyx heads to her room. I sit on her couch looking around the room to see the paintings and other decorations she’s hung since the day we went shopping. There’s even a bookshelf against the wall with books and figurines filling the shelves. It’s starting to look like a home in here.
While I’m wai
ting for her, my thoughts turn to what it would look like if my things were mingled in with hers. If we shared a home. Damn, where the hell did those thoughts come from?
Onyx comes back in the room wearing a tank top that’s molded to her torso, highlighting her curves. She’s got a baggy pair of sweatpants on and jealousy of who they might belong to instantly fills me. I’ve never been a jealous person in my life. Her hair is up and as she passes me, I get a hint of something floral coming from her. It’s not perfume, probably her shampoo. Something I see myself quickly becoming addicted to.
“Ready to go?” she asks, grabbing her bag and keys.
“Yeah. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can go out tonight,” I tell her.
Onyx almost shuts down before my eyes. That’s not what I wanted to happen. We usually all go out and celebrate after our first day of recording. Then again when we finish the album. If she’s going to be part of the band, she’ll be invited to go out with us. This isn’t something to shut down about.
“You guys have fun,” she says, pulling her door shut behind us.
“No, you’ll be coming too,” I tell her. “It’s our tradition to go out and celebrate the first day of recording.”
“No, I won’t be going,” she answers stiffly.
Something is going on here and I’m not sure what it is. I’m sure she’s gone out to a club before. There’s dancing, some drinking, and then we all go home and crash. It’s not anything bad. I’m not saying the guys won’t go home with someone, we’re all single. That’s their choice.
“You okay?” I ask as she unlocks her SUV.
“Yeah.”
Now I know something’s wrong. When a female utters one-word answers, it’s never good. I just have to figure out what’s wrong. Right now, isn’t the time though. Onyx won’t answer, I can tell by her posture and the tightness of her lips pressing together.
We’ve been at the studio for a few hours and have four songs recorded. Isabella has been in a pissy mood since I got back and introduced her to Onyx. The guys are all ecstatic she came back with me. They welcome her with hugs and help her get comfortable around all the equipment.