Lars stopped her up. “Two words. Kit James.”
Murphy stilled, chewed on her bottom lip, and nodded. “I’d have to special order that, and I don’t even know when we’d get it. I can maybe see about getting a mattress topper or something. Will that work?”
“My personal opinion? You should hire a company to come in and disinfect his entire bunk,” Licks said. “Dude hooked up with so many random vaginas with legs that the CDC should probably be called in. For reals.”
Murphy groaned as her head dropped into her hands. “Really, Licks? Really? Vaginas with legs? You’re one to talk, you know.”
“What? I only sleep with girls who are of the highest quality.”
Another round of laughter broke out, and Retro shouted, “Hookers, Licks—most people call them hookers.”
“Hey, I don’t pay for it. And you’re all just jealous ’cause they seek me out.”
“Bro, that’s not jealousy—that’s smarts. Why do you think you have a flock of them?” Retro cocked his head, waiting for Licks to answer.
“Whatever, bro. I’ve seen you do the same shit I do. Even Lars does it, so don’t even try to tell me those girls are your rejects.”
“Okay, well, if that’s all, I think I’m gonna go purge what coffee is left in my stomach and spray everything with disinfectant. Thank you, as always, for sharing your stories and making my skin crawl,” Murphy said, nudging Lars to move so she could get up.
Lars slid from the seat, letting Murphy out as she muttered about missing her truck and wishing Woody to an eternity of hell for leaving her stranded on a bus with a bunch of sexually frustrated men.
I could understand where Murphy came from. Not that I was innocent either, but the girls I’d slept with weren’t complete and total strangers. And they damn sure weren’t one city after another, leaving a trail of underwear like the broken dots on a road map. Was that what you had to become to be a musician on the road? Did the miles and endless faces harden you so much that you felt like you had no rules or boundaries—no morals?
“Yo, Bama!” I jerked my gaze to where Licks pointed to the open seat next to Lars. “We got shit to talk about.”
MY FINGERS RAPPED AGAINST THE table as I mulled over what they said. “Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You guys are bank-rolling a recording session because Woody won’t?”
Lars folded his hands on the table in front of him. “No, we’re funding our recording session so that when this band falls apart, and it will, we’ll have material ready to put out.”
What the hell was I supposed to say to that? “What exactly are you not telling me?”
Retro and Licks sat silent, which was odd for the two of them. They looked at Lars, waiting for him to answer.
“Our contracts are up soon, like a couple of months from now. We’ve put every damn dollar we’ve made into going out on our own. And before you ask, no, Woody doesn’t know about it.”
And there it was… Lars, Retro, and Licks would be walking the first chance they got. “So what does that mean for me?”
Licks spoke up. “You’ll have to renegotiate your contract with Woody. I mean, you’re good and all, but you can’t be a one-man band.”
“Hold up,” Lars said. “The offer’s there, Jared, but you’ll need to contribute too. None of this is free. We’ve put a lot of money aside. Enough to scrape by, but if you chip in, that would get us a lot further.”
“You’re asking me to come with you, but we’ve never played together before. Hell, you guys have only heard me jam out with you.”
Lars nodded his head. “Who do you think insisted we bring you in as the new lead singer? Because I can tell you, Jared, it wasn’t Woody.”
“What do you mean, it wasn’t Woody? Of course it was; he was the one who listened to my demo and offered me the contract.”
A smug smile tugged on the corners of Lars’ mouth. “Nope. On that, you’re wrong. Woody can’t be bothered to do anything but spend the money as fast as it comes in. Everything else is left to Murphy. She sorted through hundreds of demo tapes, listened to every single one, and gave me five to choose from. You were my choice. So technically, Murphy found you and I was the one who made the final decision.”
I hadn’t even been reviewed by the band manager? He hadn’t even seen my tape; he’d left it in the hands of others.
“But my parents…”
“…paid a man to hand deliver your tape to Murphy,” Lars interrupted.
I knew my parents had said they’d help me as much as they could, but paying someone to hand deliver a demo? Weird.
Retro kicked my foot under the table. “Seriously, Bama, what’s there to think about? This would be a fresh start. We’d have our own material and play concert venues instead of music festivals.” He sighed with a shrug, “That’s all we’ve ever wanted and, for a while, in the beginning with Kit, it’s what we had. I want it back, minus Woody.”
“So what happened? With Kit James, I mean.” There had to be more to the story about Kit’s sudden departure.
Retro shook his head. “After our first record took off, Woody took over the books from Murphy. For a while, we were kickin’ ass on the charts and traveling everywhere. We thought we’d finally done it. But records only stay at the top for so long, and you need new material to keep you in the spotlight. Woody burned through the money so fast, or so he says, that there wasn’t enough to record again until next year.”
I struggled to understand the waiting part. They could have worked on new music and had it ready when the money started rolling back in. “So why not wait until next year? I mean, you already have the following. People still know who you are. Why start over?”
Retro went to speak, but Lars cut him off. “Because Woody’s greedy. We won’t see the money, only he will, and we’ll be stuck repeating the last two years all over again. He’s getting fat off us, Jared, and I’m not working my ass off show after show just to line his pockets.”
It made sense. Usually, when a band was doing well, everyone profited from it. By the sound of things, the guys were only getting the scrapes leftover that Woody tossed out every so often. “So how the hell am I going to break my contract with him?”
“Easy…” Lars answered. “Without a full band, the contract is null and void.
“No, it isn’t. I read the contract; there was nothing in it about the terms being any different if the band dissolved.”
“Ah, but this contract says that. Your ‘contract’ that you signed… did you keep a copy for your records?” Lars asked as he stood up and pulled a file folder from the cabinet above the dinette.
“Yeah, I made a copy… Why?” I could feel my eyebrows pulling together, confused at where he was going with it.
“Does it look like this one?” Lars opened the file and pulled out a copy of my contract. He flipped the pages over, stopping on a page I’d never seen before.
I slid the paper over in front of me so I could read it. “What the hell is that?”
“That,” Lars said, tapping the paper, “is your out.”
My signature was there. “This is an amendment stating that I can walk should two or more members leave the band at one time. This paper wasn’t in the contract I signed. How is my signature on it?”
Lars pulled the paper back to him and slid it inside the folder. “You’re right; you didn’t get that page. What you got was this one.” He pulled a single piece of paper out. It was the waiver regarding liability for any and all equipment I brought with me.
“I had Retro forge your signature so that the original would be on file with Woody.”
“You forged my signature?”
Retro bit into his lip as he shrugged, darting a nervous glance to Lars. “It was Lars’ idea.”
“He’s right, it was my idea, but it was because I knew the minute I saw your demo that we’d have this conversation. What I didn’t know then, but do now, is your ability to create music. When you played the other day and the gu
ys and I all had a ‘bet’ going? That was to see where you stood. Were you gonna be another Kit James, or someone we could trust? You passed, with flying colors, I might add.” Lars tore up the liability form and tapped the papers against the table. “So, are you in?”
A chance to break the contract with Woody? To be in a band that wanted more… and were willing to do anything to get it. Abso-fuckin’-lutely!
“So when exactly is this going down, and does Murphy know about it?” I asked.
“We’ve kept Murphy out of it. Woody’s an asshole who would use her any way he could against us. He’s done some really shitty things to her. The less she knows right now, the better. Once we leave, it’ll be up to Murphy to decide what she wants to do.” Lars paused to watch for my reaction. “I don’t have to tell you again that Murphy’s off-limits, do I?”
“No, you don’t. But I will say this, I’m not one to stand back and let her get hurt either. You can take that however you like,” I said, crossing my arms and meeting his gaze with a firm one of my own.
“Careful, Bama, your roots are showin’,” Lars said as his face broke into a half smile.
I let it go. There was no sense in fighting with Lars about Murphy. Besides, it wasn’t like we were interested in each other like that anyway. Even if the thought of her body pressed against mine made my blood simmer, and my heart raced just thinking of her hands clutched in my shirt…
Licks snapped his fingers in my face. “Wake up, dude.”
I jerked back and scowled at him. “I’m awake; I was just thinkin’.”
Licks shoved me and laughed. “Yeah, well, think about this… we only have a few months to get our shit together and we’re out!”
Lars reached across the table and smacked Licks. “Chill out, dumbass. Let’s just get through these next stops and rock those fuckers so they remember Jared. He’s gonna be the face of what’s to come. They need to want more from us—let’s give ’em all we got.”
I liked the sound of that. Center stage, rockin’ out to a crowd of screaming fans? Fuckin’ epic.
“WELCOME TO SHREVEPORT, BOYS. BEHAVE,” Murphy said as the bus rolled to a stop.
I moved back from Retro and Licks, waiting for them to do like they usually did, but they calmly got to their feet and walked to the back of the bus. I shot Lars a questioning look.
“They only do that shit when it involves junk food.” He waited for them to come out of the back and followed behind them. “Go grab your guitar so they can load it on the trailer.”
Outside, the bus was a flurry of activity. Buses were staggered in a line along the backside of the stage. Golf carts zipped by with security guards in bright yellow vests. Four-wheelers with trailers were parked next to buses while they were loaded with equipment.
Murphy instructed the bus driver to unlock the storage compartments and wait for the backstage hands to load up Lars’ drums and our guitars. I set my case down beside Retro’s and Licks.
A band I’d never heard before held the crowd captive. The audience, already primed and ready to go, would be exciting to play in front of. Nervous energy shot into my stomach, and I felt like I’d vibrate apart from the impact of what was coming.
Murphy walked over to us as we stood together, taking in the scene. “Alright, we’re not up for another couple of hours. Security seems pretty tight, so you should be okay to walk around back here without any issues. Here are your badges. Wear them until you take the stage, and then put them on when you get off stage. I don’t need to remind you that bail money is limited, do I?” she said as she handed us a lanyard with our name and band logo on it.
Retro slipped it over his head. “You worry too much, Murph!”
Licks tied his on his belt loop and pointed to a beer vendor on the other side of the security fence that blocked the crowd from going past the stage. “Beer at two o’clock!” He took off with Retro on his heels.
Murphy handed me my badge. “It gets a little crazier as the day goes on, Jared. Don’t go out there without someone with you.”
“What about them?” I jerked my head to where Licks and Retro were surrounded by the crowd in front of the beer vendor.
“They’ve played this game longer, and they know how to get themselves out of the situations they put themselves in. Watch.”
I turned my head and watched as they were handed a cup each. Licks shouted something and pointed towards the crowd. Those around him looked to where he pointed, giving them their escape. By the time the crowd around them realized they’d been duped, Retro and Licks were back behind the fence, chugging their beers.
“Idiots. One day that won’t work for them, and then they’ll really be screwed.” Murphy huffed.
“Excuse me.”
I swung around and saw a massive security guard behind me.
Murphy stepped forward. “Can I help you?”
He was huge, not overly tall, but ripped like a damn bodybuilder.
“I’m looking for Jared Jackson.” He looked down at my name tag, and then met my gaze. “Looks like I found him. I’m Oliver.” He stuck his hand out. Manners forced me to shake his hand, even if I had no idea what the hell he wanted.
“Who are you?” Murphy’s question came off sounding rude. A scowl pinched my brow, but inside, I laughed at her abruptness.
“If you’d excuse us for a minute, Miss? I’d like to speak with Jared in private.” I wasn’t sure how you could make a question seem more like a demand, but Oliver had done it.
Murphy gave him a ‘go fuck yourself’ look. “Whatever you have to say to Jared will be said in front of me.”
Oliver looked to me for confirmation.
I lifted a hand in Murphy’s direction. “You heard her. What can I help you with?”
“I’m your new security detail,” Oliver said as he planted his feet apart and crossed his massive arms over his bulking chest. He looked like he could crush a soda can in between his pecs. It made me wonder if he could crush a skull too.
“I didn’t hire any security.” Murphy sounded confused.
“No, ma’am, you didn’t,” Oliver tipped his head in my direction, “but his parents did.”
Instant anger flashed through me. “What?”
“The Jacksons hired me out from Cole Enterprise to travel with the band while you’re on tour,” Oliver explained.
“That’s just fuckin’ great.” I spun on Murphy. “You seriously didn’t know about this?”
Murphy marched up to Oliver and poked her finger in his chest. “I didn’t authorize this, and there’s no way in hell you’re traveling with the band.”
Oliver grinned down at her and uncrossed his arms. He never made a move at knocking Murphy’s hand away as he reached into his back pocket, pulling out a thick envelope. “I have ten Gs that say you’ll change your mind.”
Murphy’s cheeks blazed as her mouth opened. Ten grand would be a lot of money to put into starting the band over. I snatched the envelope from his fingers. “You think you can just buy your way in?”
Murphy turned on me. “What the hell are you doing, Jared?”
“Negotiating, Murphy.”
“You don’t get a say in this,” she fumed.
“Yes, I do. He’s here because of me, but I don’t need a babysitter, so he can sit around and sleep for all I care.”
“I can guarantee you I won’t be sleeping, not while I’m being paid to keep you safe,” Oliver said, leaning in closer.
“What the hell are you keeping me safe from? The air?” I waved my hand to keep him from answering.
Oliver smiled as he reached out and cuffed me on the shoulder, like we were friends or something. “Doesn’t matter… you took the cash, so the deal’s done.”
Murphy sputtered beside me. “I don’t think so. This, whatever this is, isn’t going to happen. Put your money back in your pocket and leave.” She reached for the envelope, but I moved it away from her.
“Is there a problem here?” Lars asked as he approache
d us.
“Where the hell were you?” Murphy scowled at him like it was his fault that Oliver had showed up and flashed his cash.
Lars scowled at Oliver. “I had to use the damn bathroom. Who the hell is he?”
Murphy slapped me in the chest. I caught her hand and held onto it. It startled her enough that she stared at me instead of going off like I knew she wanted to do. “He is Oliver, our new security guard, who will be sticking close to the bus and around Murphy should she need help,” I answered.
Murphy tugged to break my hold on her. “Bullshit, Jared!”
“And, he came bearing gifts to the band, since he’ll need room and board.” I tossed the envelope at Lars.
Lars opened the envelope and whistled. “That’s a lot of strings and sticks.”
I nodded. “I thought you’d see it that way.”
Lars tucked the envelope in his back pocket and stuck his hand out. “Welcome to the band, Oliver.”
Oliver shook his hand and winked at Murphy.
Lars and I spoke at the same time. “Murphy’s off-limits.”
When we said it, our heads whipped to look at one another. Lars’ fist came out, and I bumped mine into it.
“That’s nice. You guys are real assholes. Where the hell will he sleep, huh? And now I have another obnoxious man to deal with… What do you think Woody’s gonna say?”
“Fuck Woody,” Lars told her, “Did you bring any of your stuff with you, Oliver?”
“It’s already on the bus,” Oliver replied. A grin crossed his face when Murphy gasped.
“How the hell did you…?”
Oliver shrugged. “What can I say? I’m just that good.”
Murphy stormed off as she muttered. “Fucking men.”
I stepped in front of Oliver. “I don’t agree with this, and you damn sure aren’t going to dog my steps like I’m incapable of taking care of myself. As long as you understand that, we’ll be cool. My parents had no right overstepping their bounds.”
Oliver stuffed his hands in his front pockets and rocked back on his heels. “That’s between you and your parents. I’m only here to do my job. I won’t interfere unless I’m needed.” He looked out to where the crowd was a sea of bodies. “None of you should be walking around without some sort of security on standby anyway.”
End Note Page 7