Piper: A Last Score Spin Off

by K. L. Shandwick

“Cutting an album? You mean CDs and downloads and shit?” she asked, bluntly to clarify.

  “Yeah, if you put it like that, I suppose I am. I’m recording my first album at Gravity Record Label. I hope to release in the summer.”

  “No shit? How many record execs did you have to blow to get that gig?” I was taken aback by her crude bitchy implication, but regardless of what she said, it was clear she had made up her mind she didn’t like me.

  Even though she had fired the most insulting accusation my way, I kept my body language relaxed and flashed her a warm smile.

  “You don’t have to blow anything when they think you have real talent,” I replied flatly. I owed those girls nothing. I had no problem in sounding smug because if she figured it was okay to suggest I’d stick some fat guy’s genitals in my face to cut an album she was very much mistaken.

  My estimate was that she was at least five years older than me and I guessed she thought she could intimidate me. I wasn’t afraid of any woman and being young didn’t mean I wasn’t equipped to deal with girls like her. If she wanted a bitch fight she'd picked on the wrong person.

  Miranda may have thought she was Queen of the Hill sitting there with all her girlfriends, but she was no match for the smart mouth I’d relied and survived on in my previous life. Girls like these knew nothing about girls like me.

  From what I saw of Miranda with Jeff, she appeared clingy and insecure. But how Jeff treated her was nothing to do with me, and I wasn’t about to shrink and roll over because she decided to vent her frustrations on me.

  It was obvious she saw me as a threat, but when I challenged her remark, her snarky attitude toward me was quickly retracted.

  “I’m only teasing,” she told me as she forced a fake smile. I saw through it in a heartbeat and suddenly Miranda looked as uncomfortable being at the party as I had felt.

  “Shall we start again?” I asked, offering an olive branch.

  “No point, honey. Miranda’s had her nose put out of joint. I’d say there are a lot of insanely jealous thoughts running through that pretty little head of hers because Doobie’s turned up here with you. He’s never taken her anywhere,” the girl closest to her replied.

  Cursing Jeff under my breath, I felt sick he’d brought me into this cesspool of hostility when it was billed as a place to make friends. There was no way I could ever be friends with people such as Miranda and her girlfriends.

  Feeling awkward and alone, I hugged myself, drawing Miranda’s eyes to what I was doing. I dropped my arms quickly by my sides and stared pointedly at her.

  “Piper, my frustrated friend here can’t fathom why she’s opening her legs to Doobie when he does his Booty Call routine, yet he’s only known you a day and you waltz right into his inner circle. Let me tell you girl, you may think your ‘new friend’ Jeff is being kind showing you around town, but I’d watch my back if I were you,” the same girl offered as a warning.

  “You’re supposed to be my friend, Gayle,” Miranda snapped, staring wide-eyed at her.

  “And I am. I’ve been telling you for weeks, he’s using you. Give it a week and you’ll be on the subs bench. Doobie’s not the kind of guy to offer anything to anyone unless there’s something in it for him.”

  Glancing from each to the other, I wondered whether they were trying to screw with me for arriving with Jeff. I bunched my brow, and Gayle tipped her chin in the direction of the door.

  “In the four years I’ve known Doobie, he has never brought anyone with him to his place of work, so she’s got something the rest of us don’t.”

  “Shut up, Gayle,” Miranda snapped again, her eyes widening; this time as if her friend had said too much.

  Gayle’s jaw dropped, and she covered it with her hand. When I saw her body slump, I knew instinctively she'd made a mistake and run off at the mouth about something I’d yet to learn.

  My radar for drama suddenly kicked in as I took in her body language and noted she toyed nervously with the string tie at one side of her bikini bottom.

  Suspicious of Miranda’s friend’s comments and subsequent reaction, a new feeling of unease crept over me and I knew I’d obviously missed something. Confused, I glanced from one girl to the other before the third of the three stopped filing a perfectly shaped nail and sighed.

  “Work? Doobie?” she questioned, holding her hand palm up as if a penny should drop with me at her hint. “My God, girl. You’re as green as the grass. Grass, get it?” She looked smug as she glanced to her friends.

  The others cackled with laughter and I took that as my cue to get the hell away from them. If Jeff thought for one minute I would have been friends with those bitches he was sadly mistaken.

  “Obviously, I am, but no matter. Excuse me, ladies.” Fuck. I turned my head and looked at the large patio doors leading into the house. There was no way I wanted to spend another minute in their company.

  “I’m going to look for Jeff. I didn’t intend on staying here long,” I offered as I spun on my heel and walked in the direction of the house.

  Relief washed through me the moment I made my escape and I inhaled a deep breath of fresh air to calm the irritation I felt about Jeff leaving me alone with them.

  Stepping inside the huge living room, I noticed a couple of separate seating areas with couches full of people deep in conversation.

  “Hello, baby,” I turned and eyed someone who looked familiar and wondered if I’d seen him with Gibson. My gaze returned to pan the room looking for Jeff. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

  Not even trying to hide the scoff that fell from my throat at the most clichéd pick-up-line in history, I rolled my eyes and snickered, then suddenly stopped.

  Electricity ran through my body with both shock and excitement when I came face to face with Ronnie Silvers, the lead singer of Scripted Letters, a well-known rock band.

  Shaking inside, I gave him a nervous smile as my mind froze at meeting one of my rock idols. Obviously, there was no one bigger than Gibson, but apart from being around the guys in M3rCy, Ronnie was the first bona fide rock star I had once followed.

  Inside my head I screamed and had a fangirl moment right there, but on the outside, I had tried to remain indifferent.

  “Uh, no. I mean… I’m new… here, in Santa Monica, I mean,” I could have kicked myself for the lack of confidence in my voice and mostly monosyllabic babble as I tried to speak to him.

  “New, huh?” he repeated, considering me for a moment as he checked me out more closely.

  My face flushed under his watchful eye. “I’m not a groupie,” I blurted and swallowed audibly as his eyes crawled back up from my feet to my face.

  Ignoring my response like I hadn’t spoken, he took a deep breath and tilted his head to one side. “So how did you find your way here… to Benton’s place?” he asked gesturing at the room.

  “Benton?” I was embarrassed to say I had no idea who he meant, and I earned another wide grin when he realized this.

  For a moment I lost my focus and allowed myself to scan his attire of white t-shirt, blue suit vest, and grey denim jeans. Then I did what no woman in her right mind would do and inhaled his addictive cologne.

  “What’s that you’re wearing?”

  “My clothing?” he asked and chuckled as he held his arms out to display his attire.

  “No, the cologne.”

  “Did you just smell me?” he asked, biting back a smile.

  “Um, I guess,” I admitted and blushed deeper.

  He chuckled lightly then hid a smirk with his hand. “Not sure, it was a gift. Why?”

  “I’d like to buy my dad some for Christmas,” I responded, and cringed slightly at my downright fabrication, but I had committed to asking the name of it and I had to say something.

  It was a lie; there’s no way I’d have ever bought something that smelled so alluring for Gibson. Chloe would have lynched me. He had enough trouble fighting women off without the use of another ‘babe magne
t’.

  Ronnie chuckled and threw his head back. “Ouch,” he joked, then flashed me another warm smile. I took another moment to take in this was really happening because I had sung along to his music on the radio, and now he was standing right there in front of me.

  I wanted to pinch myself because before we had escaped our life of purgatory, my only focus for every day had been to survive. The memories felt distant standing in the swanky house in California. With my life changing the way it has could it get any more dreamlike?

  “Hello. Are you in there?” Ronnie’s low mellow tone snapped me out of my trance.

  Shaking my head quickly I gave him an awkward smile, “Sorry, yes, I was fangirling for a second,” I replied truthfully, having been totally caught off guard.

  “Good. I was beginning to think my cologne had paralyzed you,” he said deadpan and took a slug of his drink.

  His playful response made me giggle, and he eyed me still smiling, “So, Benton?”

  “Who’s Benton?” I asked again and searched his gorgeous features for the answer.

  “You’ve heard of Drone Bird, right?” he quizzed, searching my face with a serious expression.

  “The band? Sure, who hasn’t? I’m not following,” I added with a creased brow.

  “Benton is the lead guitarist, Ton Mattison?”

  “Ton? Benton is his real name? I’m in Ton Mattison’s house?” My voice slid up an octave in shock. I wasn’t sure how many more surprises I could have taken in one evening.

  “Yep, and since you don’t know him and you’re new in town, I figure you haven’t come alone. So… let me ask you again. Who did you come here with?”

  “Jeff,” I replied. Realizing I didn’t know his surname, I felt stupid for mentioning him at all because I had already anticipated Ronnie’s next question. Why would someone like Ton Mattison know Jeff? Had he substituted for someone in his band before?

  “Jeff?” Ronnie asked, dragging me back to his question. The look he gave me told me he had no idea who I was talking about.

  “It doesn’t matter. He’s just a guy who’s one of the sessional musicians at my record label.”

  “Record label? You work at a record label? Doing what? Secretarial? Reception?”

  Tensing defensively at his assumption I felt more than a little aggrieved. In an industry where we as artists were supposed to challenge expectations, he had answered in the same way most men would have done. In that moment I figured Ronnie saw me as just another pretty face.

  “No. I’m recording an album.” I stared directly into his eyes and saw the weight of my challenge staring back at me when his eyes widened and his brows shot up.

  “Wow, really? Are you in a girl band?”

  “Please.” I pleaded, indignantly and saw my request register with him.

  “I’m sorry. Forgive me, I just assumed,”

  “Yeah, I guess I’ll have a fight on my hands to be taken seriously.” I shrugged.

  From the moment I said I was ready to face the prejudices of the music business, his attitude shifted and we had a long, interesting discussion about current music influencers.

  Ronnie even gave me some sound pointers about how to cut through some of the glass ceilings that still existed in the industry.

  The conversation turned when he asked who my manager was, and the moment I mentioned Thomas Lyndsey by name he looked very impressed.

  “Jesus, girl, what did you do to get him onside?”

  Inside I panicked, and I couldn’t think of a plausible story. It was the one thing I hadn’t really thought about. How stupid was I to have thought I could pass off a manager like Thomas? The man hadn’t taken on a new client in years.

  “Oh, you know, I lucked out. It was a case of that six degrees of separation thing, you know? A friend of a friend of someone else told him to check me out and when he heard me he agreed to manage me.”

  “But you’re with Gravity, you said? They’re not a big outfit like the labels Tom is used to dealing with.”

  “Ah, that was all me. I wanted a small label because I felt it may take me some time to hone my craft and I preferred to do it in a setting that didn’t pressure me to produce bubble-gum pop instead of quality.

  “Oh to be young. I was like you once, the idealist… and poor.”

  “Well, I’m neither of those things,” I replied. “I don’t have great material wealth, but I have self-belief in what I can do. If I make it in the music business, it will be because I have what it takes.”

  It occurred to me that I’d been there for almost an hour and Jeff hadn’t come back once to check up on me. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to find my friend because I need to get myself home. I’m due in the studio first thing. It was fabulous to meet you, Ronnie, and I hope we cross paths again someday. I love what you do and I’m a fan of your work.”

  “Tell you what, Piper. You make that album and I’ll buy it just to hear that talent you’ve been telling me about, then I’ll look you up.”

  His response made me smile, and he reached out and put his hand on my back. “Go get ‘em, girl, but stay away from these parties. They’re a cesspool for corruption and they’re full of predatory cocksuckers.”

  Hearing his description of his friend’s get-together made me laugh. I glanced around the room at the faces of the people he spoke about and noted a lot of them looked high or drunk, or both. Suddenly I recognized Jeff standing against a wall with a bottle of beer in his hand.

  “Ah there’s Jeff, got to run,” I reiterated and shrugged my shoulders then turned and wandered over to stand beside him.

  “Having fun? I see Ronnie Silvers was trying his luck with you.”

  “Not really. He was just keeping me company because the guy who brought me here dumped me on arrival.”

  “Sorry about that. I had a few things to take care of.”

  “Well, anyway, I need get going.” Truth be told I was pretty annoyed he’d invited me all the way across town and then dumped me with strangers. “I’ve got an early start tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out,” I informed him in a clipped tone and began to make my way back to the pool area to leave. Jeff made no attempt to follow me.

  As I reached the sliders, I saw Ronnie wander over toward Jeff who pushed himself lazily off the wall to meet him. Hmm, that’s weird, I thought Ronnie had said he didn’t know Jeff?

  I was glad I left when I did and arrived home just after 10pm. After following my evening routine, I slid into bed. The heat initially made me restless and my mind recapped the events of the party and how poorly Jeff had treated me until I eventually passed out.

  Chapter Five

  “Did you think you were clever dragging me along to that party?” I asked as I strode into the booth the following morning and interrupted Jeff tuning his guitar.

  “What are you five? No one expects a guy to stay by their side at a social occasion or are you that insecure you needed hand holding?” he retorted back.

  “What the fuck? Let me tell you if you had treated me the way you had treated that poor girl last night I’d have taken great delight in slapping you. I found you rude and ignorant and maybe I expected more of you than the way you behaved, but I’ll know better in future.”

  Jeff put his guitar back on the stand and turned to look directly at me. “Look, I’m sorry. I had some business to take care of and I got caught up. A man has got to eat you know. What would you say if I offered you pizza when we’re done to say sorry?”

  When his eyes engaged with mine I thought he looked and sounded sorry for what had happened and sighed because I knew we still had to work together and the more harmonious our relationship the better for the album. I nodded.

  “Fine, but I’ll still need some convincing what you did was a one off.”

  Jeff smiled, “Hard to please…got it. I’ll make it up to you.”

  Without replying I left the booth to grab some water before Otto took his seat to start our day.

  “
Come to spy on me?” I smiled affectionately at my manager, Thomas, when I stepped out of the recording room and stood by Otto at the mixing desk.

  It was a surprise when he showed up forty minutes before the end of my afternoon session. Several times I looked in his direction and almost burst out laughing at how enthralled he looked watching me.

  Eventually I had to sing with my eyes closed to prevent a fit of the giggles.

  “Absolutely, and I make no apologies for that. I like to keep an eye on my client’s progress to make sure you’re staying on track to make me my fortune,” he replied in a mock strict tone. “Seriously, I figured now you’ve had a couple of days to settle in, I’d make an effort and offer the poor struggling musician some dinner.”

  “Oh, I can always eat.” I nodded, smiling warmly at his thoughtful gesture.

  “Good, grab your shit and let’s get out of here. I know a great little seafood restaurant on the Boulevard,” he advised me as he picked up his heavy leather satchel and slung it over his shoulder.

  “Tomorrow then?” Jeff interjected, and I suddenly remembered he’d invited me to dinner.

  “Sorry,” I shrugged, “This is business,” I replied mimicking his excuse for leaving me hanging at the party. It felt good to put him back in his place.

  Thomas eyed Jeff with suspicion but didn’t say a word, then he placed his hand on my back and ushered me out toward his car. Again, I refused, telling Thomas I preferred to take my own and would follow him, because although I trusted Thomas, I needed my transport for the following day.

  The restaurant wasn’t fancy and with its kitsch decor it was perfectly in keeping with its beachside position.

  Large, brightly colored metallic starfish, turtles, and delicately painted creatures of the sea donned the walls over a background of aqua blues and turquoise greens painted in large sweeping swirls.

  Little silver metal buckets sat on the tables full of silverware and napkins, and the few other diners present were dressed mainly in casual shorts, swimmers and sarongs, or sundresses. It was the perfect place to lighten my mood and make me feel relaxed.