Speaking of that guy, CJ offered me the choice of his bed or the couch when I moved in. I took the bed, but I knew nothing had changed between us. I wasn’t moving in as his lover or his girlfriend. It was a temporary arrangement and I knew it. If we managed to fuck in his bed, so be it, but there was nothing permanent between us.
Less than two weeks later, Mollie called a meeting of the Vagabonds. I didn’t want to go. I had a sick feeling in my gut, and that told me that it was time for me to begin thinking seriously about other plans for my future, because whatever adventure the rest of my life held, this band could no longer be it. Yeah, I’d cut my teeth playing for this band, but I’d since outgrown it. I hated our music and I didn’t much care for the people I had to work with. I needed to come up with a new plan—one without this toxic group of vipers.
Okay, so they weren’t all vipers, but we’d all become bad for each other. There was no denying that.
We met in a small conference room in a hotel in downtown Colorado Springs. Mollie had come to us since this was our home base. She said she liked the excuse to do more traveling. Liz and Mollie were already there when I arrived, and Vicki came in the door right behind me. As I saw my own bandmates (even though Liz still wouldn’t look at me), I remembered all the good memories, all the good times we’d had, and I decided that, if I could have more creative say in what we became singles and got played at concerts, I’d be okay with staying. The problem I foresaw was the studio telling us no way. If we’d demanded it before going on the road with the last album, we might have had the leverage. But I saw our sales from the last album, and I knew that we’d have to kindly ask rather than demand.
I didn’t know that I could do that…and I sure as hell knew I couldn’t be relegated to playing music that didn’t nourish my soul.
Mollie asked what we wanted to drink but there was already a pitcher of cold water on the table. She called and requested coffee since Vicki had asked and then sat at the table again. “We’re going to wait a few more minutes…because I’ve invited Barbie to sit with us today.”
I felt my heart start to race in seconds as adrenaline began coursing through my body. Just her name put me in fight stance. I stood. “What the fuck, Mollie?”
“Sit down, please, Kyle.” I felt myself breathing harder than I should but I decided to hear her out. The fact that Liz was calm and unmoved meant nothing, although I suspected she already knew Barbie was coming. “I know she said some awful things about you and the band but—believe it or not—they were great publicity. You actually sold more albums during that part of the tour than any other.”
I sat down. “You ever think maybe that’s because the fans liked Liz’s singing better?”
I saw Vicki’s lips quirk but she pursed them together quickly so that no one could see her amusement.
“I don’t know that that’s the reason, because Liz didn’t sing on the album.” She sighed—I was already irritating the shit out of her. Good. “They say that P.T. Barnum said, ‘There’s no such thing as bad publicity.’ Like it or not, Barbie’s ranting and raving and bitching on every radio station she could get her hands on, as well as talking to every music magazine who would listen, earned you all some pretty pennies. I know you don’t want to give her any credit, Kyle. I get that there’s bad blood between you two, but Barbie’s a showman. She knows how to draw a crowd, and once she’s got them, she knows how to keep them entertained. Truth is, I’d guess most people who listened to her suspected that half of what she said was bullshit, but they didn’t care. Why would they? She was keeping them entertained—and so people were curious about the music and bought the album.”
I frowned and clenched my fists in my lap out of sight. I was pissed but also knew that Mollie could have been right. Barbie entered then, almost as if on cue, and only five minutes late. “What’ve I missed?” she asked.
“Nothing. We just started.” Mollie waited for Barbie to settle in, sitting in the empty chair between Liz and me, and then she said, “So where do we go from here, ladies? We know this last album was not as successful as the first two, so what do we change to fix that?”
I kept my lips shut tight. Anything I had to say would be negative as hell. Barbie began talking. “I think we need to go a lot more mainstream. That’s why we don’t have the fans we should. Our shit’s too alternative, too heavy.” I personally thought our music wasn’t heavy enough.
Liz spoke, her tone tight and strained. “No way. We’re not selling out.”
“That’s not selling out, Liz. It’s moving up.”
Her voice was low, almost like a mother bear defending her cub—and, in essence, she was. “We’re not doing it. I’d rather wash dishes in a greasy spoon.”
Barbie cocked one of her eyebrows. “That can be arranged.”
That was it. I was sick and tired of Barbie trying to run the show—and, once again, she was trying…and Mollie was fucking letting her. I stood, the wheels on my chair making more noise than they should have as I pushed it away from the table. “This isn’t going to work.” I looked at Molly. “I can’t work with her anymore,” I said, cocking my head at Barbie.
“Fuck you, bitch.”
Vicki stood. “If Kyle goes, I go.”
I drew in a deep breath, ignoring Mollie’s pleas for me to sit down and consider what I was saying. I steamrolled over her. “It’s more than that, though. Liz hasn’t talked to me in months. She’s holding some kind of fucking grudge over the fact that I told her I didn’t like the music we were playing on tour. She’s taking it personally. I mean…I kind of get that, because those songs are her babies, but I’ve been playing this goddamned music for years now, and it ain’t gettin’ any better. I feel like I’m withering up inside and dying. I want to live. I want to create. And I can’t do it with the Vagabonds anymore.” The words having flown out of my mouth helped me realize that I’d meant every word. Somehow I must have already known that I was done, but it didn’t become a conscious thought until I’d given it validity in words. Suddenly, I felt a huge relief knowing I had just quit my band. I wasn’t under obligation anymore—in fact, hadn’t been since Liz’s lawyers had pulled us out from under Peter’s wings. I knew there was a contract and that I’d have to formally put my intent in writing, but that was a piece of cake. I could get that done later that afternoon.
I turned on my heel and heard Vicki say, “Wait up, Kyle!”
Mollie was still talking but her words weren’t registering with me at all. All I could hear was Barbie’s cursing and screaming and Liz’s ringing silence.
The air felt crisp and clean when I finally made it outside, Vicki next to me, sharing my sunbeam. At that moment, I felt like anything was possible, and I knew I could conquer the world. I just had to take the first step.
So I did.
Quick Note from Jade
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DON’T MISS THE FINAL BOOK IN THE VAGABONDS TRILOGY!
On the Rocks
After playing second fiddle in part of the all-girl rock band the Vagabonds, lead guitarist Kyle Summers decides to break out on her own. Following several shaky starts, Kyle finally puts together a band that helps her shine as a solo act.
But the road is still uphill and, while she has achieved some fame, success seems elusive and she begins to question herself and her talent. She wonders if she should sell out to win the adoration of her old fans or stubbornly follow her heart and continue to languish in relative obscurity.
On-again off-again love interest CJ Slavin helps Kyle get her new band off the ground but refuses to commit to their relationship, once more leaving Kyle feeling alone, unloved, and unimportant, and those emotions lead her to do rash, irrevocable things on the road, things that could drive CJ away for good. Will they finally admit their feelings to one another and forsake all others or split for good and will Kyle finally find the fame she’s been working her ass off for or will she leave it all behind, a broken woman?
Find out in the final tale of the Vagabonds trilogy!
Chapter One of On the Rocks:
If you’re a new fan and you—like the DJ I told you about at the beginning of my story—thought I was new to the scene, you’ve had quite an education thus far. But you’re probably wondering how I went from being the former lead guitarist of the girl band the Vagabonds to landing a song on the Billboard 200.
I’m telling you it wasn’t easy. There were times I wanted to quit. There were times I almost did quit.
But I didn’t.
I’m not a quitter. I’m stubborn as hell, and because I’m a rebel, I will usually do things to prove people wrong. Barbie wanted me to fail. I’m pretty sure Liz would have been okay with that too.
That wasn’t gonna happen.
Whatever my decision would be, Vicki had told me she was with me one-hundred percent. I knew she missed the Vagabonds, but I didn’t know if it was because she missed the touring and the parties or if she missed the music and the energy, creating something from nothing and then sharing it every night with a group of new amazing people.
That didn’t matter. What did matter is I finally knew that I had music I wanted to write and share, and I didn’t want it watered down. I wanted it loud and I wanted it hard.
I decided I had to start over. I could do one of two things—I could find a band that needed a guitarist (and maybe a drummer) and try to blend in…or I could start a new band. Considering it was Vicki and me—and also considering I wanted a new sound—the most viable option seemed to start my own damn band.
So we started out by brainstorming one night—it was her and me around her mom’s kitchen table drinking beers and smoking cigarettes. Vicki wanted to come up with a cool name. I agreed that a name was important but, more than that, I wanted to settle on a sound. Vicki kept saying, “You write the music and I’ll drum out a beat.” That was when I realized that our new band would only move if I did the work.
I began writing again—first, the music, and I focused on making it heavier. Second came the lyrics, but it was hard to focus because CJ and I were inseparable whenever he was around…which was constant while Death Crunch was on break. The guys refused to call their time apart a hiatus. “A hiatus is what bands do when they’re breaking up but haven’t made it official yet. We’re just on fuckin’ vacation.”
So CJ and I had a fire that burned for each other, and being together just made it hotter…but a huge chunk of me was sad beyond belief, because I knew he wasn’t mine. As much as it felt that way when we were together, I knew he was only mine while he was at home. Once he was on the road again, he belonged to the road, to the women of the road…and that was where his heart was anyway. Just like me, he was alive when he was touring and sharing his musical genius with the fans—and home was just a break.
I tried not to pay attention to the lyrics he was writing, because they merely underscored what I knew. He was writing songs about strippers and backstage blowjobs, porn stars and partying. Their lead singer, also a good-looking guy, had a huge thing for porn actresses, and he’d been dating a semi-famous one for six months or so. I wondered if she was introducing my boy to her friends.
I couldn’t think about it.
Thinking about it would drive me crazy.
Instead, I tried to think about the shit my own professional life had devolved into. Aside from when CJ and I were tied in knots around each other, my life sucked. I was ready to move my music to the next level, but it seemed impossible to get Vicki to commit to rehearsal sessions. I’d already accepted the fact that I would be the sole songwriter—and that was fine—but I needed to rehearse. Playing the songs over and over, just me and my guitar, was a bit like masturbating. It was good, but it got lonely, and it was never as satisfying as doing it the way it was meant to be done.
I was lying in bed with my head on CJ’s chest one night after we’d made love, and I was in that state of limbo—super sleepy but unable to nod off because too much was on my mind. One of my new songs was circulating in my head. I didn’t realize until CJ asked, “What is that?” that I was humming.
“Oh. That’s one of the songs I’m writing.”
I felt his hand stroking my arm. “What’s it called?”
I smiled. “‘Gonna Get Ya’.”
“Sing it for me.”
“I’m not gonna sing it for you.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not a vocalist.”
He was quiet for a few moments before he said, “Have you hired a new one?”
I inhaled. “No. I need a bassist and probably someone on rhythm guitar too. But first, I gotta get Vicki’s ass over here to practice. I need to hear what she does with this shit before I start thinking of pulling in new people.”
CJ shifted and so I opened my eyes and looked up. “I could play bass for you—for now. Not permanently…but just till you got someone for that position.”
I nodded and grinned. “Oh, I get it. Too good for my band, eh?”
He shook his head. “Too heavy.”
I gave him what I hoped was a miffed look. “Don’t think so. I’m moving away from the light sounds of the Vagabonds. I want heavier.”
“Still…I already got my own band, babe. This is your chance to really break out.”
I was overdue, actually. It had been close to two years since the Vagabonds’ last album had come out, and rumor had it that Liz was going to be releasing an album any day. Until I’d been told about Liz’s imminent success, I never would have guessed I was a competitive soul. But hell, yes, I was, and I was pissed that my project was nowhere near getting off the ground. As much as I wanted to blame Vicki, it wasn’t all the girl’s fault. After all, I’d struggled for months with writing, whereas Liz had already been doing it for years. It was natural for her.
But CJ had brought up an important point. I needed bodies to fill those positions.
For now, I’d settle for his temporary presence until I could get Vicki up to speed. Having CJ along for a few sessions would give me a great idea of the songs’ potential. “You free this weekend?”
“Yeah.”
“Then, if your offer stands, I’ll have Vicki come over and we’ll get some serious practicing done.”
“All right, but amps down low. I got neighbors, remember?”
I rolled my eyes and kissed him. “Yeah, I’m no dummy.” But I was beginning to wonder what the hell was holding me back.
* * *
It might have been fear. The Vagabonds had been successful�
��particularly at the beginning—but, with each successive album, it was like our fans were dropping like flies. I was afraid that I’d release an album that no one would buy or want to listen to. That was a very real fear based on what I’d already seen happening with my previous band.
And if I couldn’t make it on my own, what the hell would I do with my life?
But I pushed past my anxiety anyway, knowing that being frozen by my questions about what might happen was counterproductive. I talked with Vicki and scheduled several practice times that she said would work for her and CJ planned to be part of them as well.
The first one was on a Wednesday, and CJ and I sat in his kitchen drinking coffee while waiting for her to arrive. When it was clear that she was either really late or just not coming, I texted her and then called but got no response to either.
“Let’s go do it anyway,” CJ said. I shrugged, feeling supremely disappointed. “C’mon, Kyle. I have a drum machine.”
On the Road: (Vagabonds Book 2) (New Adult Rock Star Romance) Page 30