by Ali Parker
The smell of garlic and herbs permeated the air, and the food looked divine. I couldn’t wait to eat. I only had to hope the boys from Destitute were hungry too. Too hungry to get up to any of their usual tricks that’d earned them something of a reputation around town.
A chandelier hung low overhead as I entered the bar, nodding my thanks to the hostess who scurried off back to her station. Soft chatter filled the room from people scattered around, some in sunken booths and others standing at the polished marble bar.
Lights lit up an array of alcohol on shelves mounted against the wall, and several skinny-tie wearing bartenders were hard at work refilling drinks that probably cost more a pop than those guys were making tonight. Taking a place at one end of the bar, I settled in to wait for Gerry and Destitute, ordering a glass of crisp white wine while I was at it.
“Alicia,” Gerry’s voice spoke up from behind me a few minutes after I sat down. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Got held up with a conference call. Boys not here yet?”
“Not yet.” I moved over, making space for him to stand beside me at the bar. He was wearing the inevitable suit I’d come to expect from him, but he’d changed since I last saw him earlier in the day and looked every bit the successful music executive he was.
Chuckling even as he shook his head, he signaled to the bartender and ordered some expensive vodka with a name I couldn’t pronounce. “I’m not surprised. I’ve seriously considered changing the time on all their watches to an hour ahead. That way, they might actually be on time for once.”
“Not a bad idea.” I smiled, taking a small sip of wine. “I’m glad I’m getting the chance to talk to you before they arrive. I’ve been watching some of their old live interview footage, and I’m not going to lie, I’m a bit concerned.”
I’d promised them shortly after starting in this job, I wouldn’t coach them in interview preparation if not necessary, told them I’d trust them as far as I could. But this interview in New York next week was live, a one-time shot. If they screwed it up, the repercussions would be far-reaching in breaking down what I was and had been building up for their new album since starting my job.
Giving me a tight smile, Gerry thanked the bartender for his vodka and took a long drink before answering me. “I know. Their language needs to be cleaned up. They’ve shown up drunk, tipsy, borderline paralytic, and everything in between. Caleb nearly got into a fistfight, and Dom took on that one presenter about not appreciating real music. Am I right about why you’re concerned?”
“Just about. Nick also hit on one presenter, and Matt ran off set once for no reason. Then there was the time Jared challenged a guy to a chugging contest, invited another to go streaking with him, and told yet another that his show was, and I quote, ‘a steaming pile of shit so boring that even drying paint would find it intolerable.’ ”
“That’s about the highlight reel, yeah,” Gerry agreed with a contrite expression. “Brad tried coaching them, but it never seemed to work. Think you’ll have better luck?”
“We can only hope.” Maybe throw in a couple of prayers for good measure. “I’ll take care of it before we leave for New York. We’ll just have to get through this dinner first with no incidents.”
“Highly unlikely.” Draining his drink, he sighed and ordered another. “I’ve tried these dinners with them before. Why do think I drank that one so fast? Liquid courage, Ms. Diamond. I suggest you drink up. You’re going to need it.”
“Why? What—” A loud commotion from the entrance to the bar cut off my question.
Nick was bent over, trying to help a waitress he’d crashed into clean up while swaying slightly and offering a slurred apology. “Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t see you there.”
Caleb stood behind him, cracking up as he mimed spanking his friend. Both of them were already drunk. Great.
Gerry sighed again and picked up his drink. “That’s why. Let’s get them to the table.”
Dom, Matt, and Jared stumbled in a few seconds later as we crossed the bar. Matt’s eyes were glassy, but the other two looked okay. Jared’s lips kicked up into that arrogant smirk I associated with his persona instead of his person and waved a silver-ringed hand at his bandmates as if to explain. “There was tequila at Dom’s.”
“I see,” Gerry said, lips pursed in disapproval.
A man wearing a dark suit appeared at his side, the disapproval on his features rivaling that on Gerry’s. His name tag identified him as Josh, the restaurant’s manager. “Excuse me, Mr. Thomas. Would you mind if we seated you at the back?”
“Away from the general public,” Gerry muttered quietly enough only I could hear him and then nodded to Josh. “Lead the way please.”
Josh motioned for Gerry to follow and led us to a large table half-hidden by alcoves cut into the walls of the restaurant on one side and greenery on the other. Dom and Nick caught up with him and started questioning him about New York while Caleb and Matt laughed at something and bounced off ahead.
Jared walked past me without a word, striding confidently through the room and ignoring the blatant stares from our fellow patrons. He looked good, and if his swagger was something to go by, he knew it too.
Of course, he did, though. Modesty wasn’t an affliction the man suffered from.
The band members were all in their on-again, off-again uniforms of leather pants, but only Jared’s really made me look twice. No matter how many times I saw him in them, or out of them once upon a time, they’d never lost the effect they had on me.
He hadn’t lost the effect he had on me.
A black V-neck T-shirt with a black formal jacket completed his attire, and both only enhanced the naturally gorgeous man. Few besides me knew, though, that he was so much more than just a pretty face with a sexy voice. He was funny, smart, surprisingly well-read, and an all-around great guy. When he wanted to be, which wasn’t often and not many people saw him that way. He didn’t allow them to. A pity, since the “Emperor” was a cheap imitation of the man himself.
“Excited for New York?” Dom asked.
I was so lost in thought about Jared, I didn’t notice Dom had broken away from Gerry and Caleb when we reached the table, pulling out my chair and motioning for me to take a seat.
His shoulder-length, light brown hair formed a halo around his head silhouetted by the light of the chandelier hanging behind him. It shielded the intensity of his gray eyes, but he was the kind of guy you could feel it from over a distance, whether you could see it or not.
“I am.” I smiled, taking in the seat he offered. “I’ve never been.”
“A virgin?” He wagged his brows and rubbed his hands together like he was planning something that could land him in trouble, his eyes crinkling as he grinned. “We’re honored to be the ones popping your cherry.”
“That sounds so bad.” I groaned playfully, burying my head in my hands as I shook it. Caleb laughed, and when I looked up, I noticed Jared glaring at both Dom and his brother.
Whatever.
I didn’t get to spend time with these guys outside of meetings often, and though I was skeptic about what they might get up to, I was curious to see them outside of a professional setting.
Our waitress came by to take our orders, and Gerry ordered a variety of appetizers for the table. He also didn’t look too happy when the guys ordered hard liquor and more tequila shots, but he didn’t say anything.
I was quiet at first, interested to observe the dynamic between the band members and listening to Gerry take part in their banter. Almost immediately, it became clear the guys knew each other really well and, contrary to some rumors I’d heard, were good friends.
They drew me into the conversation once I relaxed some, and while they got increasingly drunker, they were fun, entertaining and hell-bent on avoiding the topic of work.
Except for the trip to New York, which they all seemed really excited about. Even Jared eventually got involved in the discussion of all the places they wanted to visit again and all the
things they wanted to see.
Gerry steered the conversation to the interview and glanced at me, giving me a nod I assumed was to tell me to jump in and break the news. I cleared my throat and took my cue. “I’ve been talking to Gerry, and unfortunately, we’re going to have to do some live interview practice before you can go on air.”
As I expected, the band groaned as if they shared a hive mind and let out a chorus of boos. Nick pushed back in his chair, staggering when we stood up. “Fine, but if you want us to sit through interview coaching from tomorrow, you’re drinking with us tonight.”
“We’re getting more tequila.” Caleb declared, winking at me before standing up next to Nick. I didn’t bother to point out the shots they’d ordered already were probably on the way since the two practically ran away from the table and loped toward the bar.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Jared teased, looking at me without pure venom somewhere in his eyes for the first time since that morning we’d walked to his interview together. “You’ve unleashed the beasts. Hope you’re ready.”
“And that you don’t have anything super important planned for tomorrow morning,” Matt added, smirking in this secretive way he had that drove women across the world crazy for him.
He was an attractive man. They all were. But none of them held a candle to Jared, not to me anyway.
I laughed, giving him a pointed look. “Actually, I have a band to prep for a really important interview.”
“You know, practicing for the interview isn’t going to help us,” Jared told me, leaning in from across the table.
“I wasn’t asking for your permission.” I retorted, a challenge in my voice.
Jared opened his mouth to reply but abruptly stopped when a man yelled from across the restaurant. Whipping around in my seat, I watched a guy I didn’t know fall backward, crashing into the table nearest the entrance to the bar.
“What the …?” I heard Jared mutter, and then he was on his feet and just about flying across the restaurant when Caleb appeared, stumbling after the man, fist raised as if he was about to hit him.
“For fuck’s sake.” Dom slammed his hands down on the table in frustration and took off after them. Matt followed hot on his heels.
Gerry sat back in his chair and folded his napkin on the table before rising and buttoning up his jacket. “And that, my dear, is why I stopped taking them to dinner years ago. How about you deal with the manager, and I’ll get them in a car?”
We split up, and Gerry headed outside just as two burly men in black appeared and escorted Nick and Caleb out of the restaurant. The manager from before, Josh, was standing at the exit watching the band leave. I approached him quietly, tapping the scowling man on the shoulder to get his attention.
“You’re with them,” He remarked, jerking his head toward the door.
I nodded, giving him an apologetic smile. “I am. I wanted to apologize for their behavior. It’s no excuse, but they got some good news today, and they’re celebrating.”
“I love Destitute personally, but Caleb Larsen just punched a regular, and Nick Masters verbally assaulted him. Thanks for your apology, but I’m just not sure what you expect me to do here.” I didn’t expect it from him, but I was hoping I could calm him down enough not to call the cops. That would be a minor disaster that I was really hoping we could avoid.
In the end, it took me promising him four tickets to Destitute’s next show in Los Angeles, positive mentions of the restaurant from each member of the band on their social media, and a couple of other things, but Josh agreed to talk to the regular and not call the police.
Satisfied with a job well done, I gave myself a mental pat on the shoulder and left the restaurant to see Gerry loading the guys into a sleek black limo.
Jared hung back, walking over as soon as he saw me. “All set in there?”
“All set.”
“You think interview practice is going to change who we are?” He taunted, smirking and pointing at the restaurant. “This is who we are, babe. Practice isn’t going to change that. Nothing is.”
“It’s not about changing who you are.” I gritted my teeth, biting back a slew of curses. “You don’t have to act like a dick, Jared. We all have our jobs to do.”
“And you’re just doing yours. Yeah, I got that last week.” He replied, sarcasm and icicles dripping from his voice. “Don’t worry, love. If I need to do anything at all, I’ll be sure to ask for your permission.”
5
Jared
“This burger is fucking awesome,” Caleb told me, swallowing a huge bite of his lunch. We decided to hit up a burger joint at the beach. It was out of the way, quiet, and somewhere we could blend in with minimum effort.
I usually didn’t mind the fans. We’d worked our butts off to get to the point where people recognized us, so I wasn’t going to start complaining now that they did. Caleb wasn’t in the mood, though, and insisted we go somewhere we could just be us, no muss, no fuss.
The sky was robin’s egg blue with the sun sitting high over the umbrella above our heads. No one looked twice at us here, just two guys wearing dark sunglasses sitting at an outside table with our feet in the sand.
I dragged a fry through the ketchup in my takeout burger container and jabbed it at Caleb. “Told you this was a good idea.”
“You weren’t wrong.” He conceded, lifting his plastic cup and sipping his soda. A half smile crept onto the side of his mouth. “This time.”
“I’m never wrong.” Not true. I’d been dead wrong about Alicia and her understanding of our relationship, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. We' had two days to go until we left for New York, and it was our main point of focus, getting ready for that interview. “Speaking of which, what do you think about New York?”
“You were pretty against it. You feeling better about it yet?” He slammed the ball solidly back into my court, pausing to tilt his head at me before stuffing the rest of his burger into his mouth.
“It’s no big deal.” Lifting my shoulder in a shrug, I popped another fry into my mouth and washed it down with almost sickly sweet, ice-cold orange soda. “We go, do the interview, come back home, and put the finishing touches on the album. Wham bam, thank you, ma’am.”
Caleb laughed. “Glad you changed your mind. I thought you were gonna punch someone that day.”
“Wasn’t far off,” I admitted.
“Admirable self-control in that case.” He replied sarcastically. Pausing to finish his fries, he seemed to lose himself for a minute or two before pointing his last fry at me. “You want to spend some time up there after the interview? We’re taking a break anyway. Might as well make it worthwhile.”
“Not come back right after?” I hadn’t considered that, assuming the others were as eager as I was to get back to recording. Though, I was the only one throwing myself into the music as deeply as I ever had.
It was an escape for me now as much as it’d ever been.
Almost another whole week had passed, and while Alicia and I had managed some polite conversation at times, things were still strained between us. I wasn’t expecting that to change anytime soon. I also still couldn’t get the damn woman off my mind, and fucking someone else still wasn’t happening for me.
Thank the gods of music for giving me the talent. It was the only thing keeping me sane.
Churning out songs faster than I had in the years since we’d taken off, I was on fire. The guys didn’t know where my seemingly random newfound burst of energy and dedication came from, but they weren’t complaining about the material coming out of it.
Apparently, they weren’t as eager as I was to get back to recording it, though. Caleb pushed his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose, my own eyes only several shades darker staring out at me as he dropped his chin.
“We could come right back, but we’ll already be there. A break will be good for us, all of us. We’ve been going full steam practically since the second we came off our last tour
, and we’re already gearing up for the next one. We’re not machines, man. I know you’re on a roll, but you can keep writing while we’re away if you want.”
Two women walked past our table, slowing and whispering to one another as they glanced at us. Caleb sighed and pushed his sunglasses back up over his eyes, only continuing when the women were gone. “We need to take some time off. More than an afternoon. Why not combine a break with a trip we already gotta take?”
“I hear you.” A seagull cried out overhead, and I watched it dip and soar, thinking over what Caleb was saying. I didn’t want to stop now, not while lyrics were pouring out of me like blood from an open wound—not that I was hurt by Alicia leaving. It just seemed to have caused a musical hemorrhage of some kind.
There were only a few people on the beach, some kids running to and fro from the surf and some guys throwing around a football a little way down from where we were seated. Soft sand scrunched under my toes as I wiggled them, watching the beachgoers unwind.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been this close to the ocean, never mind the last time I relaxed on a beach. For a guy who prided myself on my ability to have fun with my chosen career and to enjoy the fruits of the years of labor we’d put in to get to where we were, it’d been too long since I’d actually relaxed and kicked back.
Midday binges and weekends scribbling in my notepad with my feet dangling in my pool didn’t count. It was time I got back to doing what I did, which was chill the fuck out about everything. I still didn’t understand the tailspin Alicia walking out had launched me into, or why it’d happened at all, but taking it out on the guys wasn’t going to work anymore.
Sighing, I tore my eyes away from an elderly couple taking a stroll along the shore and crushed my empty food containers, placing them on my tray to be thrown in the trash. “You’re right. We need a break. Maybe go sightseeing or something.”