“What? Why?”
“Because hell is freezing over.”
“I know, right?” Mallory shook her head. “After watching him treat every girlfriend he had like absolute shit, I wasn’t happy about it being your turn. In fact, I started plotting his death that night I came home to you two kissing on the futon.” She actually shuddered at the memory.
“That’s when you started wanting him dead?” I figured it was safe to pick the curling iron back up. “No way. I thought that was your Devon baseline operating level all along.”
“Actually not, because I didn’t think it was ever going to happen,” Mallory said. “You were so freaking oblivious to any time he tried anything more, he’d ask me what I thought—“
“Ow!” The curling iron burned the side of my neck. “He asked you for advice?” Suddenly it was like everything I’d based my life on wasn’t even true anymore.
“Yeah.” Mallory folded her arms, looking satisfied. “He was that desperate. And he still had to try a couple times before it actually worked.”
Mind officially blown that Devon turned to Mallory of all people for help. “What did you tell him?”
“That he just had to come out and tell you what he wanted.” And that was exactly what worked. “I only hated him because he was making you miserable. There wasn’t any harm in helping him out. If you two hooked up, one of two things was going to happen: you guys were going to crash and burn or it was going to work out. Either way, you’d finally know and everyone else in the world would be able to breathe around you two. It looks like it’s working out. However, you know I did threaten him within an inch of his life to make sure he got it right.”
I hugged Mallory, and it felt good. Never in a million years did I see this conversation coming, but I was so thankful that maybe now we wouldn’t be filled with rage every time we saw each other. Maybe everyone else had a hard time breathing around me and Devon, but she’d been stealing my oxygen for a long time, too. She was my sister, and her opinion mattered. Because even though she had a funny way of showing it, she wanted the best for me. “Thank you.”
“I’m just glad to see you happy, Abby.” She kept hugging me. Maybe she needed this as much as I did. “And that you got what you wanted.”
“Now I just need a job.”
Mallory pulled back, but she still didn’t let me go. “You’ll get there. Because you never give up.”
Dumbfounded and running late after Mallory’s big reveal, I met Devon at The Oak Tree. They liked him here. Not only did he make a mean drink, but he actually helped them break an attendance record at his very first show. Mo and Frankie sat at the table I’d shared with Caleb and Nikki before, it was going to be a while before they went back out. I hesitated before I sat down, because Frankie and I had been weird since Oklahoma. It hurt my heart. He loved Devon like a brother, and he blamed me that he wasn’t in the band anymore. The worst part of it was that we all wanted the same thing.
“How’s the band doing?” I asked the guys.
They looked at each other before answering me. “Release day is coming up soon.” Mo took the lead. “I’m anxious to see what people think.”
“Me, too.” Things were going so well for everyone, it was just so stupid we weren’t a team anymore. “Let me know if I can do anything to help.”
Frankie rolled his eyes.
Mo watched my face fall. “Don’t be like that, Frank.”
“I know.” His quiet words almost got swallowed by the roar of the crowd. “Sad part is that we really need her.”
My eyes grew wide but neither of them said any more. Devon told me the Chicago show had been a complete clusterfuck, and it didn’t sound like things had improved much since then. As much as I wanted to help, I couldn’t go back to the band. All the ugly things were still there.
I still got butterflies in my stomach when Devon took the stage, and I never wanted to lose that feeling. He was really mixing things up tonight, starting with Bad Company’s Shooting Star and then Bowie’s Heroes. He slowed the song down, and gave it a completely new meaning. I didn’t know it was possible to love it even more.
Devon didn’t go right into another song, instead he smiled in response to the crowd and strummed some chords I didn’t recognize. “I just can’t wait any longer,” he finally declared. “I’ve got some new stuff for you.”
I closed my eyes as he began the song. No matter how many times I asked, he’d refused to tell me anything about it. Clearly he was trying to make me crazy. So now, in this crowded room, I needed to take it all in.
“Damn, that’s tight,” Mo said to no one in particular. The song surprised me, I’d expected something soft and gentle, but Devon knew that’s not what people expected from him. He’d created something with power, using the guitar to help tell his story. Halfway through the song, he stood up and kicked the stool away, and the crowd went wild.
When he finished, Devon looked over the crowd, maybe breathing for the first time since the song started. The relief and appreciation was clear to see as a smile spread across his face.
“Too Many Reasons!” someone hollered from the crowd, and Devon stiffened.
“I’m not allowed to do that anymore.” Devon shook his head sadly while a few people booed. If looks could kill, I would have been responsible for a few murders. “I’ll have more new stuff for you soon.”
Frankie leaned over to Mo, and I couldn’t hear what he said to him. They both got up from the table to head for the stage. Once the audience realized Devon had company, they went crazy.
Devon was as confused as I was.
Frankie grabbed the microphone. “We can play it though.”
“You don’t have your stuff.” Devon still didn’t have the microphone, but I was close enough to the stage to hear him.
“Gimme that.” Frankie motioned to the guitar. Mo had picked up the stool. Devon raised an eyebrow and looked back to him, and Mo drummed his hands on his thighs and winked before Frankie played the first few notes of the song. Devon caught my eye and shrugged, then gave the crowd what they were looking for.
The internet had exploded with videos of that impromptu Sinister Riot show at The Oak Tree. The reunion didn’t stop after Too Many Reasons; the guys played a half dozen more songs, even one that no one had heard yet. All the bars that Sinister Riot played at before the record deal blew up my phone, trying to book a show just like it.
But American Original hadn’t contacted me. Yet, I was sure. I wondered how much attention the new manager and label were actually paying to the band. They should be checking this stuff every day. It pissed me off.
“What do you want me to tell them?” I asked Devon. Everything had had to wait until the movie wrapped, and now I had a lot of people waiting for answers.
Right after the show, Devon was walking on air, but like all highs, he crashed. Hard. Now that I wasn’t working on the movie, it was so obvious. Shoulders slumped forward, too quiet, too much time to think. “They want Sinister Riot shows. You can’t make that happen.”
Kneeling down beside him, I wrapped my fingers around his hand that hung over his bent knee. When he didn’t close his fingers over mine, I pushed his leg. “What’s wrong?”
“Playing with the guys made me realize it’s really over.” He shook his head. “And the worst part is that everyone wants something they can’t have.”
“Have you talked to any of them since the show?”
“No.” Devon’s voice was soft.
I’d never seen him like this before. He’d been in such denial when the label told him he was out, and even when the lawyer confirmed it. Now the reality had sunk in. “What if you played covers with the guys, like a special shows every so often?”
Devon sighed. “Abby, covers aren’t the answer to everything.” My face fell. “I know you’re trying to fix things. And I appreciate that. The shows have been going really good. I didn’t think one person would show up to see me sing other people’s shit. Believe me, I’m thankful. Bu
t playing with Mo and Frank, man, it was a tease.”
I put my head on his shoulder. Tease was the perfect word for it. Sinister Riot was on the verge of something big, just waiting to open the door, and we could already hear the pandemonium behind it. But Devon had to sit on the sidelines and cheer with the crowds. He was doing all the right things to get back on his feet, but they took time, and there were no guarantees.
The bars were disappointed to find out the acoustic Sinister Riot show was a one shot deal, but most of them still booked Devon. While I was outside returning phone calls, I’d texted Mo, asking him to call me when he got home from work.
“Have you guys heard the news?” Mo asked when he called.
There was news? “No. What are you talking about?” I whacked Devon to get his attention. I had to get him out of the house, and out of his own head, so we’d gone down to the French Quarter to walk around. I’d pulled over out of the crowd and leaned against a building, a finger in my free ear so I could hear Mo over the jazz band that played in the middle of the street.
“Where are you? Does Dev have a show tonight?”
“No, we’re just hanging out in the Quarter.” I tried to motion to Devon to fill him in on what he couldn’t hear.
“Come to practice.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order.
We did as we were told. “God, I hope this isn’t another intervention with the label.” Devon was in a place where he couldn’t accept this news might be good. “What are they going to do, kick everyone out of the band?”
“I called Mo.” And didn’t tell Devon. “Because I was trying to figure out a way to cheer you up.”
Devon squeezed my hand but didn’t reply. Practice was in full swing when we arrived, the music greeted us halfway up the driveway. Even though we had nothing left to lose, this was still scary. Thankfully just the band was there, and no sign of anyone from the record label.
Eli sang a song that Devon wrote, and it was just wrong. Not only because he had no real business doing it, but his voice didn’t suit it at all. Devon’s voice was raspy, and you knew he was from the South as soon as the song began. Eli’s voice was crisper, not bad at all. The guy was talented, but a good replacement for Devon he was not.
On so many levels.
Devon didn’t know what to do with himself. Thank God they were halfway through the song, because I automatically went to sit on the amp that I always watched practice from. Devon stood next to me, fidgeting, his blank expression saying so much.
The guys put down their instruments when they finished the song and pulled the stools away from the wall. Caleb passed one over to Devon.
“How’s the baby?” I asked.
His face lit up. “She’s amazing.”
“I can’t wait to play with her now that I’m not working a million hours a week.” I didn’t go as far as offering to babysit.
“You’re not working on the movie anymore?” Frankie asked.
“No, it ended yesterday.” Were they avoiding whatever they called us here for? “So what’s going on?”
Everyone looked at Eli. I wasn’t totally surprised it had something to do with him. “There’s a scandal about to break at The Spotlight.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know if you saw the news about Ashley Meyers killing a pregnant woman?”
Both Devon and I jumped back in horror. “No. I don’t even know who she is. I don’t have a TV.” And I was glad I’d never heard of her. Who the hell could do something like that? I turned to Devon. “Do you?” He shook his head.
“She’s got a reality show on cable. It’s pretty awful. Anyway, the girl that she killed had some connection to Cam Hunter, this country guy who won the show a couple years back. And Ashley’s dad is one of the producers of The Spotlight.”
“So what does this crazy bitch have to do with us?” Devon was as confused as I was.
“I know, it’s complicated,” Eli continued. “Ashley and Cam were married, they aren’t anymore. After she was arrested for murder, she started insisting that The Spotlight was fixed, and that she made sure Cam won even though he didn’t get the most votes.”
It was starting to come together. “It seems like the question is more like, what does this have to do with you.” I frowned at Eli, not angry, but sad. This story was awful and something told me the mess was about to topple down around him.
“Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “If anything happened during my season, I had nothing to do with it. But that’s what Cam is saying, too.”
“What do you think is going to happen?” Devon asked. The rest of the guys had been silent. They’d probably already heard this story and asked all these questions.
Eli shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked different to me now, older. “The investigation is open. You guys know that American Original is the label that signs the winner of The Spotlight every year. So how this is going to affect Sinister Riot, time will tell.”
“Has anything changed already?” I asked. God, what a mess. Some poor woman was dead and here we were discussing a record contract.
The guys looked at each other, not sure how to answer. “We haven’t really heard anything, because their concern is Ashley’s accusations. But the chick is nuts, obviously. So it might all be bullshit.”
“I hope it is all bullshit.” There wasn’t anything we could do for the dead girl, but something told me the domino effect of this scandal would not be pretty.
It wasn’t bullshit.
Ashley Meyers, despite being batshit crazy enough to knowingly run down a pregnant woman in the parking lot of her ex-husband’s bar, was able to provide a pretty detailed account of what she had done to make sure certain contestants didn’t get eliminated. She also described production meetings in detail where the top three contestants were decided every season before the show even went to the live voting stage. Every season, even Eli’s. Convenient, since his dad was one of American Original’s lawyers.
There was a chance that Eli did actually win a best of three, but we’d never know if he would have got that far without a push.
The fact that a reality show wasn’t real didn’t surprise any of us. But we weren’t prepared to deal with the repercussions.
“I wonder if this was why American Original was so desperate to push Eli on Sinister Riot,” I said to Devon as we researched the reports on the story.
“Maybe.” Devon lay on his stomach on his air mattress, looking at his computer for information, and I worked beside him, doing the very same thing. “It looks like Cam Hunter got dropped from American Original before the scandal broke.”
“I wonder why.”
“Let’s listen to him.” Devon clicked on a song sample on Cam’s website. Neither of us knew much about country music, but the song wasn’t bad at all. Devon turned his head to me, questioning, then chose another song. Nothing wrong with that one, either. “I don’t get it.”
I tapped my screen. “Some of the stories concerning Cam getting dropped from the label cite him being ‘inauthentic’ and ‘not a good fit in the current Nashville climate.’ These articles are from last year. So it sounds like people might have been on to the fix before the story broke.”
Devon rolled on to his back and rubbed his face with his hands. “At this point, even if Eli won fair and square, the show’s reputation is shit. What do you think this is going to mean for the band? The record is out in two weeks.” The single wasn’t number one anymore, but it was still performing well.
I headed to Sinister Riot’s site. Nothing had been updated in weeks. The last thing on their blog was the stuff I’d posted about Devon. My heart sank, looking at this. The guys had played shows in the meantime, and there was no mention of them, no future tour dates listed. “Holy shit.” I sighed.
“They don’t give a shit about the band, they just want the money. And now Eli’s going to make a joke out of them.” Devon shook his head.
All week I’d asked Mo what he’d heard. He never had
any information. So I swallowed my pride and talked to Eli. He dismissed me, telling me that management had bigger things to deal with than updating a website. That just told me there were bigger problems brewing behind the scenes than he knew about. Now I was just sick of everyone’s shit.
“Who are you calling?” Devon asked.
I gave him a quick peck before I got an answer. “Hi Andrew, this is Abby Gauthier.” I was going to lay it on thick, giving him all the Southern girl charm I could muster.
I thought Devon’s eyes were going to fall out of his head. He pretended to grab for the phone, but I swatted him away. Andrew didn’t answer me right away, probably just as shocked as Devon. I pretty much expected him to hang up on me.
“Abby,” he finally replied. “What a nice surprise. How are you?”
He was willing to play ball. “I’m doing well. Listen, I know you’re dealing with some controversy at the label, but I couldn’t help but notice that Sinister Riot’s website hasn’t been updated since I stopped doing it, and the guys are all wondering what this recent news means for them. I know it seems a bit insensitive, in light of what happened, but from a business perspective, they need to know.”
“Management will be dealing with that, Abby.” Andrew’s voice was flat. “We have many artists on our roster.”
“I’m sure you do.” And I didn’t give a fuck about the rest of them. “But it seems like my position hasn’t been filled.” Devon rolled away from me, mouthing oh my God. It was hard not to giggle.
“This is a strange time for you to ask for your job back.” Andrew sighed. “All hiring decisions are on hold indefinitely until the accusations are sorted out.”
“I’m not asking for my job back.” Would they have really taken me back, if not for the implosion at the label? “But I am calling on behalf of the band. They didn’t ask me to do this. So if I’ve overstepped my bounds, it’s all on me. But this is a talented group of people who worked their asses off recording this album. They’ve done everything the label has wanted them to do. You know as well as I do that Sinister Riot is the best thing that American Original could ask for right now. They deserve answers.”
Too Many Reasons Page 19