Forbidden Ballad - Rock My World

by Reese Summers

  I see Quinn before she sees me, and I can’t believe how cosmopolitan she looks. She’s effortlessly chic, with her bright blonde hair cut into a sleek bob. She’s wearing white skinny jeans and a rouched royal blue top. Her bright green eyes search for me in the crowd and when she sees me, she lets out a little squeal and comes running.

  We hug tightly, and I feel some of my stress melt away. I’ve missed Quinn. I have friends in Nashville, but no one as close to me as Quinn. There’s something about your best friend from childhood. They understand you in ways that others can’t. Quinn was there for sleepovers, puberty, first loves and heartbreaks. That kind of history can’t be ignored.

  “You look like crap,” she jokes, brushing at her tears.

  “I know. You look fabulous,” I say wryly.

  She lets out a laugh. “You’ll look fabulous soon enough.”

  She takes in my black sweat suit and flip-flops. “Well, at least you’re not in cowboy boots,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

  “Don’t worry. I left them at home, along with anything else remotely country-looking.”

  Quinn beams. “Excellent! Maybe we’ll start with a shopping trip!”

  “I brought other clothes,” I protest.

  “Hmm. Well let’s go home and check them out, but I’m pretty certain we’re still going to need to buy you a few things.”

  I roll my eyes, but don’t argue.

  An hour and a half later, Quinn and I are nestled into her small but well-decorated apartment in Tribeca. Quinn runs an art gallery and does exceptionally well. The art gallery belonged to a wealthy uncle of Quinn’s who passed away from cancer a few years ago. He left Quinn the gallery, along with a hefty inheritance. He had had no children, and Quinn had been the closest thing to a daughter.

  “So, what is your plan while you’re here?” Quinn asks carefully.

  I sigh, and stretch out my legs. “I’m not sure, really. I know that I need to look for work, but I also want to relax and not think about things.”

  Quinn nods and then opens her mouth to speak but closes it quickly.

  I knew that look.

  “What?” I demand. There is something she isn’t telling me.

  “Well, it’s just that I have a friend that works at one of the record labels here.”

  I narrow my eyes.

  Quinn twists at her shirt, not meeting my eyes.

  “I may have mentioned that I had a friend who was looking for some work.”

  “May have mentioned?”

  “Okay, I did mention.”

  “Quinn!” I moan. “I don’t want any handouts! And I still don’t know what I want to do!”

  “It’s not a handout, just a connection. You know how much the business works on connections! And don’t act like you’re giving up music, Carly! You’re too talented! What are you going to do? Go back to school and become a nurse? A teacher?”

  I shake my head and look away. Quinn is right, of course. So much of the music industry is based on connections, and I wasn’t going back to embark on a new career. I was meant to be a singer. I had been given a headlining tour, after all.

  “Fine,” I say grudgingly, “I will follow up with anything your friend might find.”

  “Perfect! I’ll call Jake tomorrow!”

  “Jake?”

  Quinn shakes her head. “It’s not like that. I wish it were though. He’s gorgeous, but he’s taken. His sister, Beth, is one of my close friends.”

  Hmm, now I’m definitely more interested in meeting this Jake person. Quinn is one of the pickiest people I know, so it’s unlike her to say that a guy is gorgeous. Jake must be supermodel material.

  “No rush on calling him, though. I want a few days to decompress.”

  “Strike while the iron is hot,” she teases. “I’ll call tomorrow,” she confirms. “I’m sure it will take a few days for things to get rolling anyway.”

  I give up, knowing that Quinn will do whatever she wants and it would be in my best interest to go along. It’s not like I have any other leads at this point. Just incase, I had packed a handful of Sideroad’s latest CD in my luggage.

  “Alright, enough work talk. Let’s talk about where we’re going for dinner tonight!”

  I look blankly at Quinn.

  “I was counting on you to pick a place. I wouldn’t know where to go.”

  “Great!” she said her eyes lighting up. “I know the perfect place!”

  With that, I was caught up in the tornado that is Quinn, getting dressed and coiffed by my friend, before I was following her to the “world’s best” Mexican restaurant. As long as they had good margaritas, I would be happy.

  ~~~

  I pause outside the impressive building, tilting my head back so I can look all the way up the sleek exterior. I take a deep breath, and steady myself before walking into the cool, marble lobby. I pat my bag for the one-millionth time, making sure that I feel the flat, plastic CD case which hold Sideroad’s latest CD.

  Woodenly, I walk towards the elevator bank, and press the button. An elevator opens almost instantly, and I step inside and press the number fourteen. As the elevator moves swiftly upwards, I think back on the past four days that I’ve spent in New York.

  True to her word, Quinn took me shopping, and I hated to admit that she was right about me needing new clothes. My clothes were all right, but slightly outdated, especially for New York. While Quinn went to work, I wandered around the city in my new clothes, checking out cool shops and eateries. So far, I don’t think I’ve been recognized, but I wasn’t able to resist glancing at a few gossip magazines. Walker and I weren’t the headline, but there was a good-sized blurb about the rumored break up of Sideroad.

  There hasn’t been an official announcement stating that our tour has been cancelled, which I think is strange. The tour is supposed to start in a week, and I can’t imagine why Stanley would be dragging things out. At least there was no mention of Willow Green. It was bad enough that Walker and I were through, both romantically and musically. I don’t know if I could handle the embarrassment of why we broke up.

  The phone call to my parents had been a painful one. I didn’t want to tell them why Walker and I broke up, but they couldn’t understand why I would throw away my entire career over it. I finally had to admit the reason why, and I cringed the entire time. It was humiliating.

  My mother had warned me years ago not to get involved with Walker if we were going to work together. I wish I had listened, but I had been too foolish. Of course, my parents wanted to know if I could go back and apologize, if I could try to make things up so I could at least have my career.

  Needless to say, I wouldn’t be going down to Baltimore to visit my family during my stay in New York. They weren’t happy with me, and I was upset by their reaction. Plus, I had just spent two weeks with them, so I didn’t feel guilty.

  So here I was, about to meet Quinn’s gorgeous friend and music producer, Jake. I was dressed in black pants and a scalloped gray blouse. My hair was shiny and straight, and Quinn had finished my ensemble with silver heels. I wasn’t sure if this departure from my normal look was a good thing or a bad thing.

  The metal doors slide open, and I walk through them, straightening my shoulders and holding my head high. There’s a long, marble black desk and a pretty woman sits behind it. I walk towards her and smile.

  “Hi, my name is Carly Michaels. I have an appointment with Jake Ryder.”

  The young woman surveys me, and I know that she knows who I am.

  “Yes, of course,” she murmurs, her manicured hands picking up her phone.

  She speaks quietly into it, and then hangs up.

  “Jake will be right with you.”

  “Thanks.”

  I take a seat, and look around. There are album posters, and signed records along the wall, and copies of industry magazines stacked in neat piles on nearby tables. I don’t have to wait long, and I see a man emerge from an office down the hall. As he nears, I can tell
that he is unbelievably handsome. His brown hair is perfectly styled, and he has bright green eyes that reflect the light. His entire face looks like it’s been perfectly chiseled, and I wonder why he isn’t a model. He’s much too pretty for my taste, but I can see what Quinn sees in him. I feel a little tongue-tied myself as he introduces himself.

  “Hi, Carly,” he says warmly, “I’m Jake.”

  I rise and shake his hand. “So nice to meet you. Thanks for making time for me.”

  “Of course,” he leads the way to his office and I follow him down the hall.

  “You look different than I expected,” he muses.

  I blush and take a seat. “Yes, I know.”

  I look around his office, which is furnished, in sleek silver and grays. Floor to ceiling windows take up the back wall behind his desk, and I have a bird’s eye view of the city.

  “So, Quinn tells me you’re her best friend, and looking for a break in New York.”

  I swallow, and twist my hands in my lap. I’m going to have to be brutally honest. I can hear the skeptical tone in his voice.

  “Yes, that’s correct. I left my band mate, Walker Stevens, and now I’m trying to pursue a solo career.”

  “But weren’t you going on tour this month?”

  “Yes. Yes, we were. But,” I hesitate, “there was a change in plans.”

  Jake brushes at some papers on his desk. “I haven’t seen that the tour was cancelled.”

  “No,” I say furrowing my brow, “I’m not sure why because we are definitely no longer a group.”

  “You were also romantically involved, correct? I believe you were engaged.”

  Damn. Jake Ryder has done his research.

  I take a deep breath. “Yes, Walker and I were engaged. Last week, I walked in on him and another woman,” I flounder, feeling heat flood my face, as I try to explain the worst moment of my life. “So, as you can see, I couldn’t imagine going on tour with him, or working with him after he cheated on me.”

  Jake leans back in his chair, and surveys me shrewdly, templing his hands.

  “I see.”

  Does he? I squirm in my seat.

  He sighs, and leans forward. “I’m going to be honest, Carly. It’s going to be hard for you to find work. There is nothing country-related here in New York. And you weren’t big enough yet in the industry to stand alone, and labels are going to wonder why you walked away at the brink of your success. It looks bad.”

  “I know. I know it looks bad. But I just couldn’t work with him!”

  I’ve gotten emotional now, and I take a deep breath, and close my eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologize.

  “Please, don’t tell me you’re sorry. I’m sure you’re going through hell right now. Look, I know you’re a great singer. I listened to your new CD this morning, and you’ve got a set of pipes. But right now, everyone knows you as a country star, and you can’t just go changing into someone new overnight.”

  I hang my head. “I know,” I say in a small voice.

  “That being said, I do have something small I could offer you, but I’m not even sure you would be interested.”

  I snap my head up. “I’m interested,” I say a little too quickly. This visit has been a reality check for me. Things are worse than I had originally anticipated, and I needed to be humble and take whatever I could get. Even if that meant singing in a bar in the city.

  “I have a rock band about to go on tour and they just lost one of their back up singers. They are currently in rehearsals, so it’s an immediate need.”

  I bite my lower lip. A back up singer for a rock band? That’s so far out of my league that it’s almost laughable. Almost.

  “What group?” I ask.

  Now, Jake shifts uncomfortably.

  “Cobalt.”

  Cobalt. Holy crap. They are one of the biggest rock bands, and their lead singer, Leo Nash, was known for being a complete sleaze ball when it came to women.

  “And why is it that they need a backup singer if they are already in rehearsals?”

  This didn’t sound good.

  Jake gives me a pointed look. “I’m not sure of the specifics.”

  Bull shit.

  “But, I do believe that Leo Nash may have been involved with the singer who quit.”

  There it is.

  And ironically, it sounded similar to my own situation.

  “So, I would be a back up singer for Cobalt? Singing their music?”

  I know how stupid that question sounded.

  “Yes, that’s the idea. If you’re interested, I’ll call them and tell them that you’ll be at tonight’s rehearsal. They’re working in a space downtown.”

  I wanted time to think about it, but I knew that time wasn’t a luxury I had right now. And Jake had told me that this was the only thing he had.

  I must be crazy.

  “Alright, I’ll take it.”

  “You will?” he asks incredulously.

  “As you just pointed out, I just left a successful music career back in Nashville. If I’m going to start over, I have to start somewhere, right?”

  “Yes,” he says, excitedly, rifling through his papers. “Sit tight. I’ll call right now.”

  Oh god, did I really just agree to this?

  Jake picks up the phone and dials.

  “Mark? It’s Jake Ryder. Yes, things are good. Great, even. I’ve got a singer here who agreed to fill your vacancy.”

  There is a pause.

  “Trust me, she can sing. She had a bit of a career out in Nashville, but she’s looking for a different scene now. Her name is Carly Michaels.”

  Another pause.

  “Great! That’s great! I’ll give her the address and send her over this evening.”

  He hangs up and smiles at me.

  “Well, he’s happy! And he’s heard of you.”

  Jake saw the look on my face. “Not to worry. He sounded ecstatic to have you on board. I’ll get all the paperwork together this afternoon, and message it over to their rehearsal space. You can take it home tonight to look it over, and then drop it back off here tomorrow. Does that work?”

  “Sure, that’s great.”

  Jake stands up, and I follow his lead.

  “Thanks for helping us out, Carly. I’m sorry that it’s probably not what you had in mind, but I’m glad we were able to offer you something. And who knows? Once this tour ends, maybe we can look into some bigger things at the label.”

  I nod and shake his hand. I still can’t comprehend what I’ve just agreed to. I’m going to be going on tour with Cobalt. I must be insane.

  “Thanks, Jake. I appreciate your help.”

  “No problem.”

  He walks me out into the lobby and presses the elevator for me. The last thing I see is his gorgeous, white smile before the doors close shut.

  Leo

  “That’s bullshit!” I yell angrily into my phone.

  “Leo, come on,” Mark, my manager, says quietly. “We all saw you two hanging all over each other. Are you going to deny that you slept with her?”

  “Of course not,” I scoff, “I slept with her and about twenty others!”

  “Okay,” Mark says, and I can hear the annoyance in his tone, “Well the other twenty aren’t coming forward and saying that they’re having your baby. And thank God for that!”

  I clench the phone tightly in my fist. “The bitch is lying!”

  “Why?” Mark demands. “She says you were the only guy she has been with in the past three months. You’re going to have to do the paternity test!”

  “Fuck!” I pace back and forth and look out at Manhattan. Skyler had been a great screw, and I had loved how she had been around all the time while we were recording our album. I was able to have a piece any time I wanted. And she seemed to ignore the fact that I was still bringing other girls around.

  “So what do I do?”

  Fuck! I swear she had told me she was on birth control! This was a first for me,
and something I always feared. And the media would have a field day if this leaked.

  “I think you comply. Agree to the paternity test next week. And if this is your baby, then you need to make right by it, Leo.”

  A kid. If this were my kid, I would have to support it forever.

  “Dammit!” I mutter, sinking onto my couch.

  “Try not to think about it, and I’ll find out when Skyler is setting up the appointment for the test. On another note, I just heard from Jake Ryder at the label, and they have a new singer starting tonight. She’s supposed to be good.”

  “Whatever,” I say. Right now, I could care less if they hired Big Bird as our backup singer.

  “Leo, you need to take this seriously,” Mark reprimands.

  “I fucking am, alright?”

  “Okay. I’ll see you at rehearsal.”

  “Yeah. See you then.”

  I hang up the phone and look around my condo. How the fuck could I have screwed up like that? Maybe I can talk Skyler out of having the kid. If she’ll agree to sit down and speak with me.

  Fuck.

  Rehearsal is in five hours, so I figure that gives me plenty of time to have a couple of drinks. I walk over to the wet bar and pour myself a scotch.

  I toss it back, letting the liquor burn my throat on the way down.

  The pain is good.

  I pour another one and toss that one back, too.

  And just for good measure, I pour one more and gulp it down.

  I head back to the couch and lay down, looking out at the city. I’m not sure how long I lay there, but suddenly the light in the condo is different and I glance at my phone to check the time.

  “Shit!”

  I leap off the couch and race to the bedroom. I’m supposed to be at rehearsal in twenty minutes. I throw on a fresh t-shirt and brush my teeth so I don’t smell like booze. I pull my sunglasses on and make my way out of the building. The doorman says hello to me, but I ignore him. The rehearsal space is only a few blocks from my condo, which is convenient. I’m going to be a few minutes later, but who gives a shit? It’s not like they can start without me.

  We’re rehearsing on the second floor of the building and when I walk in, I notice that my presence hasn’t even been missed. The band is on one side of the room talking to one of the producers. I see Mark in a corner talking to our remaining back up singer, Amber and a brunette who has her back turned to me.