No Place to Hide (Rocking Racers Book 2)

by Megan Lowe

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Knley

  I hate these things, but, as I remind myself for what’s probably the seventy-second time, it’s a necessary evil.

  “So, McKinley,” the journo says.

  “It’s McKnley,” I correct. He stops and looks down at his notes, confused. I’m being a bitch but I don’t care.

  “Is that not what I said?” he says after a minute.

  “I could hear the i,” I tell him.

  “Oh, my apologies.”

  I cross my arms. “Whatever, just get it right when you publish.”

  “May I be frank?” he asks, putting his notes to the side.

  “You can be whoever you want to be.”

  “Right,” he says, giving me a patronising smile. “You know, McKnley,”—he emphasises the lack of i—“a few of my colleagues have talked about interviews with you. I was told to expect anger, impatience, and outright hostility.”

  “How am I doing?”

  “Three from three so far.” I nod. “But what I was trying to get at was that during your relationship with Cole Matthews, there was a marked change, a noticeable softening.”

  I tense at Cole’s name. It’s been a month since we broke up and the things he said to me still play on a loop in my head. “Maybe that’s why I’m single again.”

  “Your mother credits herself for the break-up. She says the relationship was an attempt at rebelling, that you were only with him so you could use him as leverage in your quest to take the Places we all know and love to new, um, places,” he finishes lamely.

  “Then it seems once again my mother gets her way.”

  “But don’t you as well? With the new sound I’m hearing rumours about?”

  “How did you hear about that?”

  “I know some people,” he says vaguely. “Plus, your mother mentioned something the other day about new friends filling your head with ideas that were never going to work. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what those ideas might be.”

  The list of people I told about the demos goes through my head. There are only a handful of people who knew I was working on new material and I’m pretty sure none of them would have said anything to the press. “Like whom?”

  “A journalist never gives up their source.”

  I sigh. “Look, Frank, I gotta tell ya, you’re not making things easy on yourself.”

  He laughs. “With you I’m not sure there is an easy way.”

  “I’m sure my mother would agree with you.”

  “But you don’t agree with her?”

  “I don’t think I ever did, even as a child.”

  “If you don’t mind me saying, this new sound isn’t a bad idea.”

  “I still don’t know how you heard about it.”

  “Let’s just say a mutual friend thought I might like to hear something new.”

  “Well it doesn’t matter. My mother won’t even consider the demos.”

  “But you’re no longer with Cole.”

  A pang goes through my chest at Cole’s name. “So?”

  “So, your mother is saying you were only with him because you couldn’t have this new sound. Now that you’re no longer together, doesn’t that mean you get the new material?”

  I realise he’s got a point. The thought swirls in my head. My mother has been ecstatic since she found out Cole and I are no longer together. Her happiness has been eating me up inside. I miss Cole. I’m angry about what he said, but with distance, I’m starting to see he has a point. Again. If he keeps this up it’s going to get annoying.

  Who am I kidding? It’s already annoying, and we’re not even together anymore so I may not have to put up with it ever again. My heart constricts painfully. I shake it off though. Frank may not have done so wittingly, but he’s just given me the excuse I was looking for in order to start doing things the way I want, for a change.

  “I’m McKnley fucking Rhodes,” I tell him. “I do what I want anyway.” With that, I get up and leave.

  After what seems an age, we’ve finally come to the end of our tour from hell. Tonight is our final show, at St. Kilda’s historic Palais Theatre. I’m so glad the local community fought to save it; it’s hands down one of my favourite venues to play. You can keep Madison Square Garden or Wembley, just give me the Palais. Tonight it’s an intimate crowd of 2,896, assuming everyone shows up. In some ways playing the smaller venues is more nerve-racking than playing the big stadiums. There’s nowhere to hide in a small show.

  Annnnd there’s that word again: hide. I’ve been thinking a lot about what Cole—and Quinn to an extent—said, and as much as I hate to admit it, he does have a point. For too long I’ve been content to let my mother have hold of the reins when it comes to the band and my career in general. It’s taken losing Cole for me to realise that. I’ve been in this game long enough to know the major players, the ins and outs. If I want to change things, I should be woman enough to do it. I’m McKnley fucking Rhodes, after all.

  We’re sitting in the green room when I happen to glance at the time. I’m shocked to see it’s 10:30 p.m. I’m aware of the criticism about our late performance times, but I never really got it until now.

  “What time did the support finish?” I ask.

  “The usual time,” my mother answers. So at around 8:40.

  “The punters have been waiting for two hours?”

  “And they’ll wait a little more.”

  “That’s insane,” I say, getting up. “Bones!” I call to our head roadie. “Can you get me an acoustic guitar and a stool?” I ask.

  He nods and hurries away.

  “And just what do you think you’re doing?” my mother asks as she tries to block my exit.

  “Not hiding.” I push past her.

  I make my way to the stage and see the requested stool on stage, with Bones waiting for me in the wings with an acoustic guitar.

  “Ta,” I say as I grab it, giving him a wink. The crowd goes wild when I appear. I take a seat and adjust my microphone.

  “Hey, Melbourne, how’re you doing?” I’m met with raucous cheers. “That’s good to hear. I know you’ve been waiting a while and I wanted to apologise for that. My sisters are still getting ready. It takes them a lot more time and effort than it does me.” The crowd roars with laughter, whistles and catcalls ringing out.

  “So anyway, while we’re waiting I thought I’d come out here and play some tunes, what do you think?” Again, more cheers. “Awesome. Look, I know tonight is all about the past and celebrating the start of Places, but recently I’ve been working on some new stuff that I’d like to play for you.” In the weeks since Cole and I have been apart, I’ve been working on the songs I wrote while we were in Europe. I may not be with him anymore, but the memories of our time away are inspiration enough.

  I adjust my guitar strap and squirm on the stool. “Yeah, so um,” I say, the realisation of what I’m about to do hitting me hard. “These songs are a little different to the kind of stuff you’re used to hearing from us, but I hope you like them. This is called ‘Where I’d Rather Be.’”

  I take a deep breath and start to sing.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cole

  The entire tram ride to the Palais I’m in a panic. My flight from Adelaide was delayed, then there were no taxis so I had to get the fucking bus from the airport, and now every hipster in Melbourne is on this tram and it’s stopping at every fucking stop. In the end I make it to the theatre a little after ten thirty, which gives me a bit of time before they come on. I don’t even know why I’m here. I haven’t heard from Knley since the day we broke up. I guess the masochist in me wants to see if maybe tonight will be the night she finally stands up to her mother, but I also just want to see her. The usher scans my ticket and I go in and am met with Knley perched on a stool talking candidly. She fidgets and plays with her guitar strap, and it hits me that she’s nervous. Seeing Knley nervous is like seeing a unicorn.

  “Yeah, so, um, the
se songs are a little different to the stuff you’re used to hearing from us, but I hope you like them. This is called ‘Where I’d Rather Be.’” She takes a deep breath and starts to play. I immediately recognise it as one of the songs she wrote while we were in Europe. It’s incredible, raw, honest, powerful. It’s like Knley herself. The audience is hooked, not a single person able to tear their eyes away from her—except me. I look to see what she can’t, blinded by the stage lights, which is the audience’s total attention. The song comes to an end and there’s a moment of silence before the roar goes up. Knley smiles a genuine smile. I know she would’ve been terrified of the reaction she’d get.

  “Thank you,” she says as the crowd continues to cheer.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” she says as the applause is still going a minute later. She laughs.

  “All right, all right, sit your arses down. If you keep going, my ego will get even bigger than it already is, and nobody wants that.” The crowd laughs and settles down.

  “Well thanks for that,” she says while tuning her guitar. “That was something I wrote while I was in Europe with a person very dear to me. He said some things to me recently and they stayed with me. I’m trying to prove him wrong. After all, there’s nothing a lady hates more than being wrong, is there?” The crowd roars again. “So I’m trying to do things a little differently, starting tonight.” She looks to the wings. “Apparently my sisters aren’t quite ready, so how about another song?” Once again the crowd’s answer is an overwhelming yes. “This is another new one,” she says, and launches into the song.

  By the time she’s joined by her sisters, she’s played three more, all to rapturous applause. She swaps the acoustic for Betty and takes her place to the right of Sloane. The familiar chords of their debut hit ring out, and I slip out the door. My girl isn’t hiding anymore, but that doesn’t mean she’s where she should be.

  New Rhodes for Places?

  When we suggested some Tayor Swift-esque break-up tunes, this was not what we were expecting. Going solo tonight at the Palais, McKnley Rhodes debuted five new songs, all with a significant shift away from the sound we know and expect to hear from Places. Talking to the crowd in between songs, McKnley explained she had been working on them while she was in Europe and wanted to prove something to a mysterious “he.” I don’t think I’m alone in assuming that ‘he’ is a certain ex-boyquaintance who is blowing up in the NRS, and not in a good way. What is blowing up is McKnley’s new songs. Audience-recorded clips uploaded to social media have garnered hundreds of thousands of views within hours of posting.

  The songs show a more mature sound for Places, focusing more on heartfelt lyrics rather than the hard rocking party anthems they’ve made their name with. Could this be a new leaf for McKnley and Places? What is yet to be seen is Mama Rhodes’s opinion on the new material. It’s a well-known fact Helen is the main drive behind the band, and it seemed tonight’s performance was anything but planned. Do we sense a power shift in the Rhodes family? An internal struggle for control?

  While we’re not totally sold on this new direction, we’re intrigued where McKnley will lead us next. Stay tuned, Mongers!

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Knley

  I’m met with vastly different reactions once we finish the show. I’m high-fived by the roadies, who all give me massive grins. It means a lot coming from them. They’ve all been around this industry forever, they’ve seen and heard it all, so when they react like they are, I know I’m onto something.

  We reach the green room and Mum slams the door shut behind us.

  Quinn immediately hugs me. “That was amazing, Kn. Those songs are incredible!”

  “Incredibly idiotic,” my mother fumes. “Now everyone is going to expect we release those—” She pauses and turns up her nose. “—songs.”

  “I made it clear they were simply something I was working on,” I say. “They’re not associated with the band. They’re associated with me, so I can do with them what I want.”

  “You played them at our show to three thousand people, McKnley, plus God knows how many views they’re getting on YouTube,” Mum all but screeches.

  “The first song is up to 250,000 views already,” Sloane says, looking at her phone. “The others aren’t far behind that.” My mother tsks.

  “What are the comments?” I ask timidly, wedging my thumbnail between my teeth.

  “Mostly positive,” Sloane answers, a hint of surprise in her voice.

  “See, now we have no choice but to release them. You’ve painted us into a corner,” Mum fumes.

  “No I haven’t. I’ve moved us to a better place. We were stagnating where we were. Wouldn’t you rather be at the forefront, at the crest of the wave rather than following with the crowd?” I know I’m mixing metaphors, but I don’t care.

  “This isn’t our sound, Knley,” Mum says softly, trying to placate me.

  “Why can’t it be? Shit, even the Beatles evolved. Can you imagine if they didn’t? There’d be no Sgt. Pepper’s, no White Album.”

  “I don’t think they’re that bad,” Blake says.

  “Huh?” I ask, shocked to the core.

  “I don’t think they’re that bad,” she repeats. “I mean sure, they’re different to everything we’ve released before, but I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. Plus, you had a point about the Beatles.”

  I’m stunned; this is the end of the world as we know it. Blake Rhodes is agreeing with me. I thought if anyone had a problem with what I did, it’d be Blake for sure. Not counting Ashton, of course. I already know what her reaction is going to be. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “The usual response when given a compliment is ‘thank you,’” she tells me.

  I give her the finger and shoot her a smile. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Well, I think this whole night was bullshit. I shouldn’t be surprised, really. I mean, Knley’s always been the star. The rest of us are just stage dressing,” Ashton fumes. Her reaction is almost exactly word for word what I thought she’d say. Predictable and a touch dramatic, is our Ashton. “What were you thinking, going out there in the first place?” she asks.

  I shrug. “It was getting late, the crowd had been waiting for a while, and I felt bad. You guys weren’t in any hurry to come out, so I did my job. I entertained them.”

  “And plain old covers weren’t good enough for you?”

  “I was told my trade-off for breaking up with Cole was being able to debut new music.”

  “Who said that?” Mum demands.

  “The journo you sent to me the other day. He said you were taking credit for Cole and me breaking up, that according to you I was only with him as an act of rebellion, that our relationship was punishment for not letting me try a new sound, and since I’m no longer with Cole, I figured I had free rein to go ahead.”

  My mother is fuming. “What was the name of the reporter?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to things like that. I do remember him saying something about Frank, though?” She storms off, phone to her ear.

  “All of this was over a guy?” Ashton asks incredulously.

  “No, it was about me not hiding anymore. We’ve been doing this for five years, Ash, and not once have we had any input into the direction we’re going or how things are run. Doesn’t that bother you? We’re grown women and have no say into the way we live our lives. To me that’s batshit crazy.”

  She sighs and sits down. I grab her hand. “Don’t you want a life outside this, Ash? You had your twenty-ninth birthday on tour. Blake is thirty-two. Don’t you want a family? To settle down with someone?”

  “So this is about a guy.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s not about Cole or any other guy who may come along. It’s about us taking control of our lives.”

  “You know he can’t ever give you the life you want.”

  “How do you know what he can give me?”


  “Because I know guys like him.”

  It hits me. “You’re talking about Parker?” She looks away. “Cole isn’t Parker, and the Parker you knew isn’t who he is now.”

  “It doesn’t matter. At the heart of it no one ever really changes.”

  “I think you’re wrong, but if that’s what keeps you warm at night.”

  “It is.”

  “So do you really hate my songs?”

  She sighs. “Of course I don’t. They’re brilliant, Knley, like everything you write is.”

  “What do you think, Sloane?”

  She doesn’t even lift her eyes from her phone. “I think YouTube says they’re going to be hits. That’s good enough for me.”

  “All right then.”

  “I don’t know whom you were talking to,” my mother says as she storms back in, “but it wasn’t any reporter I approved of.”

  “Well,” I say, leaning back in my chair, “I suggest you find him, because he’s the only reporter I’ll be dealing with from now on.”

  Places Going Places?

  Places in the studio? That’s the goss that’s crossed our desk. It’s believed the band is recording the songs debuted by McKnley at the Palais a week ago. A post break-up project perhaps? Regardless, here at Rocking Rumours we’re glad to see McKnley back to her old self again. It was feared that during her seven-month relationship with Cole Matthews our girl had lost sight of her passions, blinded by the all-consuming influence of the former Supermoto champ. All seems well now, with the guitarist back to her biting remarks and tough girl attitude. Welcome back, McKnley, we’ve missed you!

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Knley

  In the end Frank found me. I’m at my favourite burger place in the CBD when he approaches me.

  “You’re a hard man to find, Frank,” I tell him through a mouthful of meat.