by Cole, Starla
What a nightmare. Maybe she should just go back now, trade in her ticket.
She was barely showered and dressed when someone knocked at her door.
An older guy was in the hall with a black Rage in Chains t-shirt a size too small stretched over a fairly tricked-out set of chest muscles.
“We roll out in half an hour,” he said. “Rage is eating breakfast. He wanted me to see if you wanted to come.”
Jewel wanted to turn him down, but her growling stomach gave her away. She glanced back at the room. “I need to pack up my things.”
“Just come down when you’re ready. Leave the stuff inside your door. We’ll get it.”
Jewel nodded. When he was gone, she raced around the room, stuffing things in her bag. She’d go downstairs, tell Rage this wasn’t a good idea, and then — what? She wasn’t familiar with Sacramento. If they all left, she wouldn’t even have a ride to the airport.
She had a degree in international business. She could figure it out.
Jewel dropped the bag by the door and slung her purse over her shoulder. Eat. Cut. Run.
She took the stairs down a flight to the lobby. She could only assume the restaurant was around there somewhere.
The lobby was empty. So much for super fandom. She’d half expected girls throwing themselves against the glass doors. Obviously nobody knew he was here.
A man all in black stood outside the entrance to the restaurant. “Ms. Jewel?” he asked.
Jewel halted. “Yes.”
“This way.” Instead of taking her into the main dining area, where a few scattered guests were eating breakfast, the man led her along the side wall and through a door.
Inside, Rage and several members of what appeared to be crew were loading plates from a buffet.
Rage looked good, she decided begrudgingly. Even in the light of morning, he exuded this confident sexiness. In fact, she wondered why she thought he seemed nervous and anxious last night.
His hair was flipped over in this messy shag cut that suited him perfectly. The stubble on his jaw was just the right length. Jewel forced herself to remember the grubby boy who tried to tag along with her. But that just elicited her sympathy and didn’t help matters.
Rage turned and saw her. His face lit up, and she raged again. Such a damn charmer! Did he think any girl would drop her panties for him?
“Is this the brilliant business partner?” one of the guys asked, nudging Rage.
“It is,” Rage said, setting his plate on a table. “Arnie, this is Jewel. We were neighbors growing up. Now she’s a big-shot international businesswoman.”
Jewel shook the guy’s hand. So this was the manager. He was beefy, round shouldered, and his hair was buzzed super short. He looked like a used car salesman. Her concern prickled, but she simply said, “Hardly that. Just graduated. Nice to meet you.”
Arnie had one of those powerful grips. “And lovely too.”
“Thank you.” Jewel felt awkward. She wouldn’t be able to tell Rage she was leaving in front of all these people. Eat first, she thought. Maybe a moment would come up.
“Grab a plate,” Arnie said. “We’ve got a few minutes yet before we have to hit the road.” He glanced at his watch.
“Details,” Rage said, clapping Arnie on the back. “Arnie loves the details.”
“Details are important,” Jewel said absently.
“Right,” Rage said. “On the bus, we can look over that contract for the second album.”
Arnie sniffed, displeased, and Jewel felt her suspicion rising again. “Rage, have you seen your own books? Do you have even a general idea of how much the tour costs versus earnings, and what percentages go where?”
Arnie steered her toward the buffet. “Rage has to focus on his art. Those aren’t things he needs to worry about.” He handed her a plate. “Eat up, honey.”
Jewel whirled away. She hated men who called her honey or baby or sweetheart. She was starting to feel some panic for Rage. Maybe she should stay a day or two, just to make Arnie nervous. He should be on Rage’s side. But more than a few naive artists got screwed by the people who should have been watching out for them.
She could rein in what she felt last night. It was just a silly starstruck moment leftover from the concert. She’d get on the bus, go through the paperwork, and have a fun few days. Maybe the girlfriend wouldn’t hate her. Maybe it would be all right.
And maybe the sausage links would turn into flying pigs.
6: Rage: The Fight
Something was up with Jewel. Rage could see it. She’d eaten breakfast in near-silence, ice coming off her as bad as that time he and Matt refused to leave the living room when she was watching Dirty Dancing with some high school boyfriend. Rage hadn’t wanted to leave them alone. That jerk was putting the moves on her and Rage was old enough by then to recognize them.
Now they sat opposite each other at the table on the bus. The California summer blazed by in a blur of mountains and trees. She had put on a pair of cute little glasses and was reading over documents in utter concentration. Arnie had been suspiciously obstinate about giving up anything to her, blowing smoke about nondisclosure clauses and privacy.
But Jewel was everything Rage remembered and more. She pressured Arnie with a mix of flirting and logic. He hadn’t shown her any numbers, but she did have the contract for the second record deal, the one no one had signed.
Rage watched her as they bumped along. Her hair was a shiny brown in the light from the window. Her skin was creamy. Today she had on a silky tank top that hugged her body. She had no idea how hard it had been for him to walk away last night. Maybe he shouldn’t have. This morning she was as difficult to read as the face of the moon.
Jewel tucked a long section of hair behind her ear and shook her head. “Rage, I don’t really know what is standard in a contract like this, but I see a real possibility for you getting screwed royally.”
“How?”
She turned the paper around, but it was hard to look at it when she was so close. “Here,” she said, pointing. “This new contract isn’t getting you anything. It’s just exercising the option of the first one at the same rates.”
“But they gave us a half million advance for the first one.”
“Well, that’s good, because I’m betting that’s all you ever see for a long time.”
“What are you talking about?”
Jewel wouldn’t meet his eye. “There’s a way of doing accounting labels are known for. Pulling expenses out so that they never show a profit.”
“I know all that. I read the shit Courtney Love put out and some other stuff online. Arnie said he was going to get money up front. That’s how you fight that.”
“Good, good.” Jewel looked around at the bus, and over at Crash and Metal, sleeping on their beds near the back. “How do you get money to spend on...things.”
“I don’t pay for anything. I just ask for it, and it gets done.”
“Doesn’t that worry you?”
Rage shrugged. “It seems like that’s the way it’s done.”
“But it’s like writing checks when you don’t know what’s in the bank.”
Rage laughed. She was always so practical. “That’s why I asked you here.”
Now she got all serious, looking out the window. He could still picture her from last night, massaging his hand. Different from today. She was so distant.
Then she dropped the zinger. “Your girlfriend isn’t going to like me meddling in your affairs.”
Shit.
Rage sat back. “You heard about her.”
“You’re sort of all over the place on the gossip sites.” She still wouldn’t look at him. “They like to follow guys with good hair.”
He snorted. “Stacey is a plant. I saw through her right off.”
Now Jewel looked at him, her dark eyes penetrating his. “What do you mean, a plant? You’re all over each other in the pictures.”
“In the pictures. She’s the daughter of
the producer. Did you Google her? I’m just one of a string of guys.”
“So you’re not dating her?”
“I have to take her to things.”
“Still? Like today? Will she be at the concert tomorrow?”
Rage’s heart was hammering. Now he got it. Jewel was feeling threatened by that nitwit girl. Hope surged in him. He took a risk and reached for Jewel’s hand, but she pulled it back.
“Jewel. She’s not anything. Not to me.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She started pushing pages around on the table.
“It does. Hey.” He stilled the paper. “Please talk to me about this. I need you. Everybody here has an agenda. Even Arnie. For all I know he’s locked up what money we did get and I can’t access it. I’m in way over my head here. My dad doesn’t know anything about this world. I didn’t understand a thing the lawyer said. The only person I know who has the brains and experience to help me muck through this is you.”
Jewel stared at the papers in front of them. Rage had to try again. He slid his hand over hers. Touching her skin was a jolt, an electric shock. It was true he needed her for the paperwork. But hell, maybe he didn’t care about that. Already he could see that Metal and Crash had a one-way ticket to rehab. The label couldn’t do much if they broke up.
But Jewel was here.
She allowed the contact, and slowly, carefully, shifted her fingers so they grasped each other. He regretted not kissing her last night. He ached with the need to do it. But the table was between them. And Crash and Metal were just a few feet away. Arnie was up front with the driver and could come back any minute.
Maybe, must maybe, once they got to LA and through the interviews and press, he could get her alone. Then he would do it. He wouldn’t chicken out. This was his moment. And she was the girl he had always wanted.
7. Jewel: Mixed Feelings
Jewel sat in a corner of the room, watching Rage work the crowd. He glanced at her every so often, just to make sure she was still there. It warmed her over. How could it not? Nobody else paid any attention to her. With her ordinary clothes and lack of makeup, she wasn’t web site clickbait or the right look to sell to tabloids. She was invisible.
But Rage, he was a force. That slutty photographer was back with yet another halter. Jewel wondered how many rock stars that girl had boned. Was it some sort of challenge to her? See how many she could cross off the list? Jewel definitely didn’t get it. Maybe she could understand going after that one rock god you had always pined for. But this girl seemed to have a system.
Every time Rage noticed the photographer, his eyes flashed with anger. It made Jewel want to laugh. He wasn’t going to be a very good rock star if he didn’t like women throwing themselves at him.
Arnie plunked down next to her. “He’s good with the press, that’s for sure.” He angled his head at Metal and Crash, who glowered with brooding expressions behind Rage. “Those boys, they ain’t gonna last if they don’t lay off the powder and work.”
Jewel decided this was a good a time as any to confront him about money. “So where do they get the drugs then? They have money? A dealer? What if they get caught?”
Arnie sniffed. “There’s always roadies and crew willing to do whatever to sidle up to the band.”
“So fire them.”
He crossed his arms over his beefy chest. “More like them will just show up. The industry is full of it.”
Jewel sighed in disgust. She didn’t see why it had to be that way. No wonder these poor kids, going from seedy bars to sold-out arenas, crashed and burned. They were being set up for it.
“Damn, is that the girl from last night?” Arnie seemed to just now notice the lurid-lipped photographer. “Rage specifically said to keep her out.” He hopped up to confront the woman.
Well, he was good for something. Jewel turned back to Rage. They seemed to be wrapping things up. Arnie was pulling the photographer out of the room by her arm. Rage noticed and smiled, then winked at Jewel.
Okay, she had to admit it, she was having fun. Better than sitting around her flat in London, doing a whole lot of nothing with Ethan and trying to figure out a job. She couldn’t stay much longer there, now that her degree was done, unless she got a job. Maybe it was time to punt and come back to the US. Her parents would be happy. And how different it would be to see her old house, and Rage’s, next to each other on that middle class street, after this.
The hotel this time was much fancier than the last. She did some numbers in her head. If it were $300 a night, and with the crew and the band and the buses, hell, they had some serious expenses. If the contract was bad, even with sold-out shows in these medium-sized arenas, they were going to go in a hole.
Jewel sat and fretted about this, staring at the floor, wondering what she could do to help him, when she saw his black boots step in front of her.
She looked up, and once again, was struck by the transformation. The stylists had prepped him for this interview. His hair was a work of art, almost floating over head head. The stubble was a perfect level of scruff. His black shirt had a sheen to it and was fitted super tight. She could see every muscle in his chest.
He definitely wasn’t the kid she remembered.
Rage held out a hand to her, and she took it. Metal and Crash had already found a couple of girls and curled their arms around them.
“Yo, Rage, you want to come up to the suite and party with us tonight?” Crash asked. His hair spiked out in every direction. He was lean and tall, and hunched over to keep his arm on the girl’s shoulder.
“Nah,” Rage said. “Jewel and I have been going over the contracts.”
Metal shook his head. “All work and no play.”
“I’ll catch ya’ll in the morning. We’ll come up with the set list and work on that new song,” Rage said.
“You got it, boss,” Crash said. He and Metal escorted the girls out. The room was emptying in a hurry.
“What did you want to look at now?” Jewel asked. Arnie still hadn’t let her see any accounting ledgers.
Her heart did a little flip when he caught her eyes. “I was hoping just to be with you,” he said. “We can go out somewhere if you like, or call some food up to the room.”
Jewel found it hard to talk suddenly. Her eyes grazed his biceps. “Okay,” was all she managed.
His smile was huge and genuine. He almost had the look of the neighbor boy she once knew. “Well, come on then. Let’s head up.”
But when they stepped out in the hall, Jewel got her first taste of what his life could be like. This hotel had not been kept secret apparently. Hundred of girls screamed when he appeared, pushing up against the meager amount of crew brought down to keep them at bay.
“Holy shit,” Rage said. “When did this happen?”
Arnie came up behind them. “Somebody Tweeted with a location,” he said. “Let’s get to the elevators.”
They pushed through, but Rage didn’t like just ignoring the fans. He stopped and signed things, papers thrust at him, posters and CDs. One girl whipped her shirt off so he could sign her chest. Jewel sensed his discomfort at this with her watching, and kept the pen high on her collarbone.
Some of them got more aggressive, trying to grab him. Finally Arnie announced, “That’s enough! Let him through!”
They made it to the elevators finally, and the crew could keep the fans back in that small controlled space. The hotel manager waited for them. “We’ve moved you to the top floor, which is only accessed with a key. We didn’t realize you would need security.”
“Back when we booked it, we didn’t,” Arnie said. “The boy is a hot commodity.”
“I see that.” The manager looked perturbed in his navy suit with a shiny gold badge declaring him to be Joe Mendall.
The elevators arrived and Arnie, Rage, and Jewel stepped in. The manager handed Arnie a key. “You’ll need this to get to the top. You can get down without it.”
Arnie stuck it in the slot inside. “Thanks.�
�
They rose up through the tower of the hotel. Jewel watched Rage in the mirror. He seemed agitated, anxious. “You ready for this life?” she asked him.
He reached down and grabbed her hand. “Don’t have a choice now.”
“Nope,” Arnie said. “Like it or not, this is how it’s going to be for a while.”
The elevator slowed to a stop and everyone stepped out. Jewel’s heart hammered then. She was going to be alone with Rage. And she didn’t think he was going to be walking away this time.
8. Rage: Taking Care
The city was laid out in front of giant glass windows. This hotel was definitely classy. For the first time, Rage let himself think, I’ve made it.
Jewel stood beside him, also taking in the view. Damn, he was happy. Even if it all went to hell from here, he’d gotten to this moment. It was worth it.
“Tell me about your mom,” Jewel said. “I was awful sorry not to go to her funeral. She was a great lady.”
That got him. He turned away from the lights of LA and headed for the leather-topped bar. “She went fast,” he said. “Probably a good thing. She was in a lot of pain at the end.”
“How is your dad doing?” She followed him and leaned her elbows on the bar.
“He never was one to be all emotional about things.”
Jewel nodded. “I remember.”
Rage leaned down to the fridge below the bar and examined the contents. “We’ve got some beers I’ve never heard of. A bottle of chardonnay. Champagne.”
“Ohh, champagne,” she said. “Open that.”
“Anything for the lady.” He felt a flutter in his belly.
“I’ll grab glasses,” she said and pulled a pair from the rack along one side.
Rage peeled back the foil and twisted the wire. “It might blow!” he said.
“Just don’t shake it,” Jewel said. “Is there a towel anywhere?”
“Probably just in the bathroom. I’ll risk it,” he said.
Rage tossed the wire on the counter. Hopefully whoever loaded the bottle in the fridge hadn’t tossed it around too much. They were about to find out.