Broken Road (Limelight Series Book 1)

by Piper Davenport

  “What the fuck you doin’ out there, brother?” he asked jovially, as he stood aside.

  “Trying to change a woman’s mind.” I scurried in, welcoming the overheated air of the backstage area.

  “Shit, brother, that’s dangerous work. How’d it go?”

  “Well, I’ve only got the one black eye, so there’s that. Where’s the band?” I asked, as I started walking toward the party suite.

  “We’re almost packed up.” Winston’s pace quickened in order to match mine.

  “Chas got the band on the bus right after whatever the fuck that was that went on earlier. We didn’t know where you were. Chas is flipping out.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll take care of him.”

  Winston was the only member of our road crew that had been there from the beginning. He saw our very first bar show and said we “had something.” Until then, we were too young to play twenty-one and over venues, so we rehearsed a lot and only played the occasional all-ages show. We didn’t have much stage experience, but we were tight, and took the music very seriously. Winston was a retired roadie who had toured with The Black Crowes throughout the 90s. He said he saw something special in us, but that we were “green as a frog’s bare ass.” He became our Obi Wan Kenobi, and our most loyal friend.

  “I hate that limey prick,” Winston said, his raspy voice barely pushing through his thick whiskers. “I heard you hit him? ’Zat true?”

  “Yeah, but I shouldn’t have. I lost my cool.”

  “Well, good for you anyway. Things haven’t been as fun since he came on board… until tonight that is.”

  I could clearly hear in his voice that Winston was smiling from underneath his scraggly mess of a dirty blonde beard that covered most of his face.

  We reached the loading dock and could see the band van, and Chas’ car pulling away.

  I ran up to the van and banged on its side right as it started to accelerate.

  The van screeched to a halt, followed by Chas’ black Bentley. Chas flew out of his car, followed quickly by Zeke and then Jimmy. Edward stayed in the van. I knew the new guy was smart.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Chas demanded.

  “Before you say anything, I’m sorry and I’m going to fix this,” I said.

  “And how the hell are you planning on doing that, sunshine?” Chas growled.

  “Lucy Haddon has agreed to meet with me. We’re having coffee in the morning,” I explained.

  “What?” Zeke yelled. “You think we’re going to let you meet with her alone after what you just pulled with Sheila tonight?”

  “He’s right,” Chas said. “You aren’t doing a thing, and you’re not meeting with anyone. You’re gonna get your ass in that van and pray that I can fix this.”

  Who the hell did Chas think he was? This was my band, not his. I took a deep breath and stowed my anger for the moment.

  “I understand how you feel, Chas, but the meeting is set. I’ve smoothed things over for the moment and she’s agreed to meet me for coffee, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do. This is my band, and I don’t need your permission.”

  “But you will need a straw for that coffee after I knock all your teeth out.” Chas started toward me when Winston stepped in.

  “Hey there brother Chas,” he said in his signature slow, steady tone. “Let’s hold on for one second.”

  “Stay the fuck out of this you dirty hippie,” Chas snapped.

  They were now standing chest to chest, Chas towering over Winston’s straw-like frame. Winston may have been scrawny, but he’d been around the business as long as Chas and knew how to handle himself. He was also fiercely loyal to the band, hated Chas, and was certifiably insane.

  “Sure thing, brother,” he responded coolly. “I’m just gonna need you to go ahead and back away from my drummer first.”

  He took one step backward and slowly lifted the front of his “undershirt,” a ratty 2012 European tour t-shirt, revealing a revolver tucked into his jeans waste band.

  Just when I thought this night couldn’t get more interesting.

  Bam

  AFTER A FEW moments of the standoff between Winston and Chas, I started to get a little nervous. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen Winston pull his gun on someone. However, this was the first time I’d seen him do so to someone in our camp. Bar owners that didn’t want to pay the band, sure. Drunken, sexually frustrated frat boys that wanted to kick our asses, sure. This was the road after all, but this was new territory for our road manager. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who’d been on the road too long.

  “You pull a gun on me, you better use it.” Chas’ words were slow and cold.

  “I ain’t drawin’, just showin’ you, so you know I mean business,” Winston replied.

  “I’ll shove that piece up your arse—”

  “Back off, both of you,” I warned as I stepped between them. The last thing we needed was Winston in jail or a hole in Chas silk suit.

  “Don’t you tell me what to do, boy. I’ve been doin’ this job since before you discovered your dick,” Chas said.

  “I ain’t ’fraid to go back to prison!” Winston shouted.

  I bit back a laugh as I faced Winston. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, brother, but I think you can stand down now.” I turned back to Chas. “Chas, I’m trying to fix this, just calm down and we can figure this out. I don’t want to fight—I don’t want any more trouble.”

  “Trouble? Trouble? All you bring us is trouble these days!” Zeke shouted. “Melody Morgan, Sheila Roberts, and now Lucy fucking Haddon. You fuckin’ blew opening for RatHound...RatHound.”

  “I know, Zeke, and I’m telling you I’m going to fix this,” I said.

  “No, we are going to fix this,” Zeke countered. “There’s no way I’m letting you meet with her alone tomorrow. No way Chas is going to let you.”

  “Let me?” I snapped back. “What do you mean ‘let me?’ This is our band Zeke. Yours, mine, Jimmy’s, our band. And this sure as hell isn’t Chas’ band!”

  “That’s right Bam, it’s our band not your damned solo act, so we’re all going to meet with her tomorrow.”

  “Fine, Zeke.” I threw my hands up. “We’ll all go. One big happy fuckin’ family.”

  The cracks in my band were widening. Zeke and Chas were clearly vying for control of the band. Jimmy had always had my back, but I could even feel him pulling away. He seemed to be becoming more and more isolated these days. Who even knew what Edward was thinking?

  He had been the band’s third guitarist since our formation, and even though he seemed eager to join us eight months ago, his interest already seemed to be waning. I couldn’t understand why this rift was happening now when everything was going so great. The new album and single were doing well, and the tour was entirely sold out. Our first headlining theater tour and we were selling out. We should have been happy.

  “We’ll all go,” I continued. “We’ll talk, she’ll see we’re the right band for the tour, and everything will be okay.”

  “It’d better be Bam,” Zeke said, his eyes locked on me.

  Or what? I thought. It was moments like this that reminded me that I never really knew what Zeke thought of me. Not entirely.

  The ride to the hotel in the band van was dead silent. Winston and the road crew always rode in their own separate van and Chas and his long-suffering assistant Hadley Simon traveled in Chas’ prized Bentley. We didn’t even have a proper tour bus and that fat bastard drove around in a Bentley, with a personal assistant. I actually felt bad for Hadley. She seemed sweet and I couldn’t figure out why she’d put up with Chas, or us for that matter. She was in her early thirties, cute as hell and spent most of her time fighting off the advances of sleazy rock promoters. She seemed a bit too smart to stick around all this bullshit for too long.

  The band van was always reserved for only us—no fans, no business people, no girlfriends. This was our sacred space. Our place to write, our place to fight, and
tonight it was our place to sit and stew in silence. Typically, we’d be laughing, talking about the night’s show or listening to music. The drive after the show always served as a bonding time, but lately I felt more and more distant from the band.

  Zeke’s resentment of my recent high-profile relationship and the attention it brought on the band was growing. He hated that some people only knew of the band because of who I was, or more specifically, who I was dating.

  To make matters worse, I had written a song for Melody before we broke up. Roses for Anna served as her backup band for the recording. Even though Melody was known as a pop singer, she was actually a great rock singer. She had asked me to write a song for her in order to showcase this other side of her. The song ended up on a very popular movie soundtrack. The movie and the song, billed as a duet between Melody Morgan with Roses for Anna, were huge hits. This should have been good news for the band, but not everyone saw it this way. Some members felt it softened our image.

  Hadley checked us into the hotel and handed each of us our room keys. The sound of our roller bags on the hallway carpet was the only thing audible as we made our way to our rooms.

  * * *

  Lucy

  What the hell am I doing?

  I sat in the Town Car heading back to my apartment and verbally chastised myself. I was free. I had all the ammunition in the world to go back to my parents and let them know Roses for Anna would be a bad addition to the tour. But, no. What did I do? I fell for Bam and his southern charm, hook, line, and sinker. I was an idiot. A horny one. Which might be why I’d let him charm me.

  I lowered the glass between me and my driver. “Sully?”

  “Yes, Miss Haddon?”

  “I need a burger, please.”

  “Of course, Miss Haddon.”

  “And a shake,” I added. “And probably some onion rings.”

  He met my eyes in the rearview mirror. “Your usual?”

  “Yes, please.” I smiled. “Thanks, Sully.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Sullivan Wallace had been my bodyguard and driver since I was ten. He was kind of my best friend… to be honest, most days I felt like he was my only friend. He’d been hired by my parents when threats had been made against the family. Coincidentally, the threats started around about the same time Dad went into rehab. It was a shit time in my life and most days I wanted to forget it. My brother had his own driver, as did my parents. But Sully was all mine, and even after the threats had been eliminated, he’d stayed. He was my dad’s age, unmarried, which was weird since he was gorgeous. Tall and muscular, his dark hair was peppered with white and he kept a slight beard that gave him a Pierce Brosnan look.

  “Sully?”

  “Yes, Miss Haddon?”

  “Will you ever call me Lucy?”

  “Probably not, Miss Haddon.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I think that’s ridiculous, Mr. Wallace.”

  He chuckled. “I’m aware Miss Haddon.”

  We pulled up to the drive-thru and I ordered, then he drove around to the window and paid. He handed me my milkshake, but not the food. There were two rules for riding with Sully. No food or sex in his Town Car. The second rule was only verbalized when my first boyfriend and I made out in the back of the car when I was sixteen. He didn’t last long and I was pretty sure Sully did something to scare him away, but I was never able to prove it, nor was I ever sure it was over protecting me or his car… he was weird about his car.

  We arrived at my high-rise building and Sully walked me up to my apartment. “I’m not going out again tonight, Sully. You can take off for the evening.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  He smiled and took off, and I set my food on the counter, changed into yoga pants and a T-shirt, then dug into my food. Ohmigod, I loved a good burger. My butt wasn’t much of a fan, but as I took another bite, I couldn’t even give a modicum of shit about it.

  I shoved an onion ring into my mouth just as a knock at my door came. I checked the peephole and pulled open the door. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hey, baby girl.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek. “Hmm, onion rings. The meeting went that badly?”

  Okay, I had a choice to make here. Knowing my dad, he already knew exactly what happened… but do I gloss over that and make my case as to why I’m letting Bam meet with me tomorrow?

  “Come on in and I’ll give you the low-down,” I said.

  My dad was one of the sexiest men alive, according to People Magazine’s 1994 and 2001 editions. He was almost fifty-three years old, but still looked like he was in his thirties. Tall, dark-haired, blue eyed and one hell of a musician, he was a legend… and he was madly in love with my mother which was another reason women wanted him. Who wasn’t attracted to a man who would never stray? Even with his drug and alcohol issues of the past, he never once cheated on my mother.

  “Where’s Mom?” I asked, and shoved another onion ring in my mouth.

  “Home.”

  “She’s missing all the fun.”

  “She didn’t miss anything.” He grinned. “I wore her out.”

  I covered my ears. “Nope. No. Don’t want to know. Gross, Dad.”

  He chuckled and grabbed a ring. “Fill me in.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “Epic fight, Bam took Chas down… sort of. Possible concussion.”

  I gasped. “Bam has a concussion?”

  “Luce. Focus. Bam’s good.”

  I nodded. “Right.”

  I filled him in on the events of the evening, leaving nothing out except my attraction to the drummer. My dad did not need to be made aware of the reaction of my private parts when Bam Bam Nelson was around.

  “Wow,” Dad breathed out.

  “Did I screw it up?”

  “Why the hell would you think you screwed it up?”

  “Because you don’t need that kind of drama, Daddy. I should probably cancel the meeting tomorrow.”

  “Nope. You’re taking that meeting.”

  “I am?”

  “Baby girl, that’s the band I want. I can handle drama; I’ve been married to your mother for over thirty years—”

  I snorted out a laugh.

  He smiled. “What I need to know is if Roses for Anna can handle a dry tour.”

  “I will find out tomorrow morning, then.”

  He cocked his head and studied me.

  “What?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Do I need to warn you about him again?”

  “What? No. Why? That’s dumb, Dad.” I focused on my shake and took a couple of sips in an effort not to nervously rant.

  “Baby girl.”

  “Dad. I’m twenty-five years old, I’m running your tour, I’m an adult. You need to let me be one. I can handle Bam Bam Nelson. The man has the name of a cartoon caveman or cavebaby—whatever.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I’ve forgotten about the T-shirts and posters? You haven’t been out of this house for that long.”

  “Dad, you were the one that asked me to meet with them, remember?”

  “You’re right, I’m sorry and I trust you.” He smiled and threw his hands up in mock surrender.

  “Good.”

  “Okay, I’m gonna get back to your mom. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He kissed me again and then headed out the door.

  I finished my burger, grabbed a glass of wine, and flopped onto the sofa for a chick flick marathon, both excited and terrified to meet with Bam in the morning.

  Bam

  “CHICKS DIG SCARS.” That was all my dad said when I was eight years old and cut my right bicep open on a rusty nail sticking out from our back fence. The gash required four stitches and I was worried about being horribly disfigured for life. That was one of his better parenting moments.

  I stood in front of the hotel room mirror. The giant purple wound above my left eye wouldn’t leave a scar, but there was nothing I could imagine chicks diggi
ng about the current state my face. I looked like shit. To make matters worse, the headache express had arrived right on time, and just pulled into migraine station.

  My phone buzzed. It was a text from Hadley: Wheels up in five.

  I gently slid my sunglasses on, hoping to obscure my eye, and being extra careful not to provoke the angry volcano god currently residing on my face. Grabbing my bag, I headed down to the lobby.

  “Hey,” I quietly greeted the band who had all assembled, along with Chas, in the hotel lobby. Jimmy was texting on his phone, Edward was reading a book, and Zeke was laying flat on his back on the lobby couch with his hat over his eyes.

  Chas was the only one who responded. “We have a few minutes before we have to leave so let’s talk about the game plan for this meeting.”

  I nodded but was still pissed about the way Chas was suddenly telling me how things were going to be in my band.

  “I’m gonna do the talking and you lot are gonna sit there and smile like good lads. And you”―Chas looked directly at me―“Not a fucking finger, mate.”

  I said nothing.

  “I’ve worked too hard for you lot only to have you blow it when the big opportunities come knocking,” Chas said in a low voice.

  “What do you mean, you’ve worked hard?” I asked, my eyes meeting his. “This band has been busting its ass for years before we even knew your name.”

  “Look, mate, look at it however you want, but you don’t know everything that goes on regarding the business matters of this band,” Chas said.

  “I sure as hell should!” I snapped back. “We all should.”

  Zeke was laying still, his arms folded.

  “Chas, did you know something about this RatHound tour beforehand?” I demanded.

  Jimmy and Edward turned to stare at Chas now.

  “What’s your problem, Bam?” Zeke broke his silence and sat up suddenly. “Why don’t you let Chas do his damn job? You’re acting like this tour is a bad thing. Besides, you’re the one who fucked this thing up for us. Let him deal with it. He’s the band’s manager, not you.”