Love Rock'ollection: The Brutal Strength Rock Star Trilogy, books 1-3

by Michelle Mankin

  Marcus had been tired of the pressure they’d put on him and had finally built up enough professional clout to call his own shots, for the most part. That’s why these auditions pissed him off. With Black Cat, a much smaller independent label, he had final veto power over decisions directly affecting his group. It had been one of the terms he had insisted upon when he signed with them. He just hoped he wouldn’t be forced to play that card right from the start.

  STEPHEN CALLED TREVOR early the next morning. “Hey man, you guys get in ok last night?”

  “Yeah, thanks. I always love visiting Vancouver. How are you?”

  “Not so great. Listen, I want to give you a heads up before you guys get over to Kitsilano this morning. Marcus had a full day of it yesterday. Mary, being who she is, sent him only women to audition. By the end of the day, he was livid, calling them and I quote, ‘no talent eye candy.’ He refuses to even consider a female replacement. Anyway, I’m hoping he will be in a better mood today. I’m sure he will be thrilled to have a talented guy like Avery try out. I’ll see you guys in a couple of hours.”

  After Stephen hung up, Trevor dropped down onto his hotel bed and stared listlessly at the phone. He took off his glasses and started rubbing his forehead with both hands. Crap, crap, crap. He couldn’t believe his luck. In his mind he went back over the cell phone call with Stephen, remembering the spotty connection. No telling what Stephen had or hadn’t heard. It didn’t matter now anyway. Poor Avery. He’d brought the kid all the way out here to Vancouver, and now she wouldn’t even get a chance to try out.

  Trevor sat in his hotel room in a daze. What was he going to do? On a good day the job pool for a female guitarist was limited. Equal opportunity did not apply in the music business. He didn’t have anything else lined up for Avery and knew Justin’s death had left her in a financial bind.

  It was so disappointing because he knew deep down this was a good match. Years in the industry had given Trevor confidence in his instincts. Stephen had a reputation of running a tight ship. That had been a factor in Marcus choosing him to be Brutal Strength’s general manager. The fact that he was Marcus’ cousin probably helped, too. It was a real family affair. Given the band’s bassist was Marcus’ older brother. It was a perfect environment in which Avery could thrive.

  He closed his eyes and gave it some more thought. Giving up wasn’t an option. So Stephen thought Avery was a he instead of a she? Why should they feel obligated to correct him?

  A crazy idea started to evolve inside his head. What if they disguised Avery as a guy? Hey, it worked for the women in movies like Mulan and Yentl. Well, sort of...

  Trevor put his glasses back on, got up, and walked down the hall to Avery’s room, hoping he’d be able to convince her to go along with his plan. They didn’t have much time. The audition was less than two hours away.

  “Sit down, Avery,” he told her after she let him in. “We’ve got a bit of a problem. There was a mix up when I spoke to Stephen on the cell last week. He got the impression that you are a guy.”

  “Really? Ok.” She looked puzzled. “But what difference does that make?”

  “A lot. Mainly because of Brutal Strength’s lead singer. Marcus has rejected every single woman who’s auditioned so far. Stephen said he’s really on the warpath refusing to even consider having a female replacement for his ex-guitarist.”

  Avery closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands, her long hair forming a flame colored curtain around her shoulders. “What am I going to do now, Trevor? Things are really tight for me.”

  “I know that. But listen, Avery. This is such a great opportunity for you. It would be a crime to waste it. Chances like this are a once in a lifetime deal, you know?”

  She raised her head. “I realize that. So what? It’s not like I can magically change into a guy, Trevor.”

  He fiddled with the nosepiece on his glasses. “Yeah, well, maybe you can. I know this might sound a little crazy, but what if we go ahead with the tryout… only with you dressed up like a guy?”

  “What?” She looked at him incredulously. “That would never work. Are you nuts?”

  “Possibly. There’s a rumor that insanity runs in my family.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “No, please.” He held up his hand. “Just hear me out. I really believe in you, kid. Once they realize how talented you are, I don’t think they’ll really care if you’re a dude or a dudette. You’ll get the gig, and you can tell them the truth after…when the time is right.” When she didn’t stop him immediately, he seemed to take that as an encouraging sign and continued, “It could work Avery. It works in the movies.”

  She shook her head. “This isn’t a movie, Trevor. This is real life.”

  “Yeah, I know kid. But just say you’ll try, and then we’ll see. Ok? What do we have to lose?”

  Avery sat down on the edge of the bed and put her hand over her mouth as thoughts ran through her head. What would be the worst that could happen? They might laugh at her and say, “Nice try, but no.” At least they would know how desperate she was for the chance. They might find some other work for her to do. It was unlikely she’d be forever blacklisted for the deception, and anyway, Trevor was right. She had no real alternative.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose, sighed heavily, and eyed her manager. “Ok, Trevor. I don’t think it will work, but at this point I’m willing to give anything a try.”

  “Good. It’s settled then,” he declared, relief evident in his tone.

  Avery still felt uncertain, but she let him push her toward the bathroom. He instructed her to wash off all her makeup and pull back her hair. When she came back out, he held out his Yankee’s ball cap and one of Justin’s plaid shirts for her to wear.

  “Try these on.”

  Avery stuffed her hair up inside the cap and buttoned up the shirt over the one she had on. “How do I look?”

  Making an undecided sound, Trevor crossed his arms and studied her.

  Avery glanced down, saw that though the shirt was long enough to hide the curve of her hips, it didn’t disguise the shape of her breasts. She frowned.

  Apparently reaching the same conclusion, Trevor motioned toward her chest. “We’ve got a slight problem up top.”

  Avery felt her cheeks flush.

  Trevor tapped his chin. “I’m trying to remember how they did it in the movies.” Suddenly, his eyes brightened. “I know. I’m going to run over to the Rexall drug store across the street. I’ll be right back.”

  Doubts assailed Avery as she paced the room waiting for Trevor to return. When he came back he withdrew a wide ace bandage from a plastic sack, removed the outer packaging, and handed it to her. “Wrap this tightly around your chest,” he instructed. “To flatten out, you know…”

  As embarrassed as her agent, Avery turned completely crimson and hurried into the bathroom to give it a try. It was itchy and uncomfortable, but seemed to do the trick. When she came back out again, Trevor stared at her and went completely still. He swallowed several times but didn’t speak.

  Wondering why Trevor seemed so spooked, Avery moved to the dresser and looked in the mirror above it. She gasped. She couldn’t believe it. The resemblance was unsettling. She blinked back tears.

  “Oh Avery, you look just like Justin,” Trevor whispered.

  WHEN THEY ARRIVED at Black Cat Records, Trevor checked in with the receptionist. She stayed behind her elegant desk, but gave them a warm smile and directed them to the appropriate recording room.

  Silent since the cab ride, Avery stuck close to Trevor, carrying her guitar case in one hand as they walked down the narrow hall lined with numbered doors. He stopped in front of one, pushed it open, and motioned her inside. She immediately unpacked her Ibanez electric guitar and started to warm up.

  Stepping back out into the hall, Trevor studied the framed records on the wall and let out a nervous breath. Surely it’ll be alright, he told himself. What they were doing was probably only slightly
illegal, and anyway wasn’t everything fair in love and rock ‘n roll?

  “Hey man, how’s it going?” The familiar voice of his former associate sliced through his thoughts. Trevor turned to see Stephen striding down the hall toward him.

  “Really great.” Tall and blond with a lumbering gait and an appealing manner, Stephen hadn’t changed much since the last time Trevor had seen him. But he frowned when he noticed Stephen was alone. “Where’s Marcus?”

  “He’s getting a soda,” Stephen explained and glanced back over his shoulder as if fearing the temperamental lead singer might be right behind him. “I gotta tell you, he’s still in a lousy mood.”

  “Oh well.” Trevor shrugged feigning nonchalance. “We were prepared for that, thanks to you. Appreciate your call this morning.”

  “No problem.” The sound of Avery’s guitar blazed out of the recording room. Stephen peeked in and raised an inquiring brow. “That Avery?”

  “Yeah.” Trevor answered, pausing to mentally edit to the right gender. "He wanted to warm up a little bit before we got started.”

  “Great.” Stephen entered the control booth of the recording room, reaching back to hold the door open for Trevor to follow. “We can listen to them in here.” He gave Avery another cursory glance without commenting as they sat down.

  Trevor exhaled with relief. So far their plan appeared to be working. “What did Marcus think of Avery’s demo?” he asked.

  “He hasn’t heard it yet. He was swamped yesterday. It blew me away, though. Sounded like it might be all original material. Who wrote the lyrics? Avery?”

  Trevor nodded. “He’s a solid songwriter. A big asset for any group as you know.” He took off his glasses and wiped them on the hem of his shirt before putting them back on. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me Marcus agreed to Avery’s audition without even listening to the demo? He must have a lot of trust in you, Stephen.”

  “I guess he does.” He shrugged. “Mostly. As much as he trusts anyone. This business tends to make cynics of us all. We’re family, though, cousins on our mother’s side. We grew up practically next door to each other.”

  “Yeah, I remember that…” Trevor suddenly stopped midsentence as Marcus came barreling through the door of the recording room like a runaway freight train, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Startled, Avery stopped playing and backed off her stool. Her eyes widened as she stared at the tall, dark haired, agitated man in front of her. I am so dead, she thought becoming even more nervous than before.

  She wanted to slide between the cracks of the wooden floorboards as he studied her with icy blue eyes that seemed only seconds away from discovering her secret. His dark brows forming a frown, he ran a hand through his already disheveled mop while she quaked in her Converse sneakers.

  “Marcus Anthony.” He held out his hand.

  Avery sucked in a tentative breath afraid to clasp it. Her smaller feminine hand would be a dead giveaway in his masculine grasp. She cast a nervous glance at Trevor, silently begging for his direction.

  Marcus solved the problem for her. He withdrew his hand, his gaze dropping to her guitar. “You look nervous. Let’s just do this.”

  Exhaling with relief, Avery nodded.

  “Alright, then.” Looking more than a little skeptical, Marcus turned to the booth. “You guys ready?”

  Stephen leaned into the mic that allowed for seamless communication between the glass booth and the recording room. “All set, Marcus. Go ahead and show us what you got, Avery.”

  “Ok,” Avery replied, lowering her voice as she spoke for the first time, remembering that she was supposed to be a guy. Underneath the bandage and multiple clothing layers, Avery’s skin heated up. A bead of sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades.

  “How about ‘Anthem?’” Avery proposed, taking a deep breath, balancing her pick over the strings, hoping she wouldn’t lose her grip on it because of her sweaty palms.

  “That works for me.” Marcus nodded his approval. For the first time since he’d walked into the room, he felt a glimmer of interest. Anthem was a song off Brutal Strength’s first album. Maybe the kid had actually done some homework. Might make up for some of the deficits in other areas.

  At least this one wasn’t a girl. But he was definitely young. Marcus had taken one look at him and figured the audition was going to be a big waste of time, just like all the rest. This guy had a baby face if he’d ever seen one. With those big green eyes, he must’ve gotten picked on all the time growing up. He was way too pretty.

  At twenty-nine, Marcus realized that he was more burned out and cynical than some guys twice his age. Somewhere along the long road to success, he’d lost his passion. He’d reached the pinnacle of the music business. Fame and fortune were his. But inside he felt unfulfilled.

  He’d been ready to walk away from it all when Mary Timmons had showed up. The carrot she dangled was complete control of the process, something he’d sacrificed to his old label after Brutal Strength’s debut album.

  The chance to stoke his creativity had drawn him back to the studio for one last try. This time, he was determined to do things his way. He was going to regain his artistic integrity if it killed him. And if the album wasn’t a commercial success? Well, so be it.

  Still feeling tentative, Avery held her guitar neck out, away from her body, and hesitated. When she and Justin played, she often started this song with a dramatic windmill motion a la Pete Townshend, but she didn’t think Marcus would be impressed with that. So without any fanfare, she launched directly into the dizzying rock intro for “Anthem.” She liked it a lot because it reminded her of Van Halen’s “I’m the One”. It started out with combinations of similar swirling riffs, then segued into a series of high pitched notes that she pinched off with lightning speed.

  Head down, Avery effortlessly executed the demanding passages, her fingers flying over the fretboard.

  Marcus let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The guy has skill, he thought. Not many people he knew could pull that off. Keith their ex-guitarist being one of only a few. It didn’t slip his notice that Avery had added in some improvised guitar slides. Very ballsy, very creative.

  Avery lost herself in the moment. She and Justin had often covered “Anthem” as an encore to their act. At the spot where the lyrics came in, she automatically stepped up, putting her lips to the studio microphone to sing, but Marcus surprised her when he beat her there. For a moment, she let the smooth sound of his voice wash over her. His vocal range was as accessible and appealing as Dave Grohl from the Foo Fighters.

  Feeling compelled to join him, Avery followed his lead, harmonizing to blend perfectly with his, her bluesy breathy voice recalling Christine McVie of Fleetwood Mac. Together their melded voices filled the sound room.

  Marcus’ previous scowl disappeared, his entire demeanor radiating the pleasure he felt performing with someone with whom he was in total sync. He stared at Avery long after they both had faded out on vocals and the final notes on the guitar had ended.

  He smiled. This was what he had been looking for. This was the reason he had wanted a male guitarist all along. He wondered where they had they found this guy and why they hadn’t brought him in the day before. It would have saved everyone a lot of grief.

  Seeing Marcus’ smile, the flash of brilliant white against at least a days’ worth of dark stubble along the angular line of his jaw, Avery relaxed for the first time. She felt as exhilarated by their rare and instant musical connection as he apparently did. But however sweet the moment, however much she appreciated and knew she should savor it, overwhelming longing for Justin turned it bitter. Her loss was a gaping wound in the center of her chest that would never heal. Tears began to brim in her eyes.

  Marcus noticed the abrupt switch in the guitarist’s mood. He made a mental note to grill Stephen for answers later. The last thing the band needed, given his own recent history, was to bring someone else into the group who was emoti
onally unstable.

  Up in the booth, Stephen and Trevor were oblivious to the awkward moment in the studio. They swiveled their chairs around to face each other and tapped knuckles together in celebration.

  “Where have you been hiding this guy, Trevor? I can’t believe I’ve never heard of him.” Stephen shook his head in disbelief. “He’s a real talent.”

  “I agree.” Trevor muttered softly. “Nothing personal against Keith. He’s a great guitarist and all, but he doesn’t play with half the passion my client does, and he has nowhere near the vocal capability, either. Not that I’m biased, Trevor thought drily.

  “Hey.” Marcus approached Avery cautiously. He cleared his throat.

  Avery swiped the tears away and glanced up at him.

  “That kicked ass, kid.”

  Avery smiled timidly, and was surprised when he smiled gently back. He was extremely good looking, and she felt incredibly drawn to him when he wasn’t angry.

  “Can you hold on just a sec? Let me get my Gibson. I want you to show me that thing you did with the intro. I really liked it a lot.”

  Trevor felt vindicated for instigating the deception as he watched Avery and Marcus huddled together going over chords. Musically they were a perfect fit, and it seemed like they were getting along even better than he had expected. “So what do you think?” he asked Stephen.

  “Your guy’s off to a good start. I don’t have to tell you that Marcus is usually a hard ass. We have a couple more auditions we are obligated to do, but my money’s on Avery. Marcus has the final say, though. But I promise that I’ll get back to you as soon as I can and let you know what he decides.”

  “That sounds great,” Trevor replied, then leaned over to speak into the mic, “Hey, Avery.” At the sound of his voice, Marcus and Avery both startled, apparently so absorbed in what they were doing that they had completely forgotten they had an audience. “We need to get going.”