Limelight (NSB Book 4)

by Alyson Santos

  The bathroom light roars on. The demon is me, staring back through bloodshot eyes.

  No one wants you.

  “Jesse?”

  The bag is pulled from my hand and tossed in the toilet. Warm hands slip around my waist. Soft hair tickles my back.

  Air starts to flow again. Steady. 1-2… 3. I close my eyes. 1-2... 3. It’s all right.

  It’s all right.

  Gentle fingers move over my skin, slowing my heartrate.

  “It’s all right,” she whispers.

  ∞∞∞

  Parker is polite when we emerge the following morning. Even says hi from his old man chair at the head of the kitchen table. Mila doesn’t say anything as I swallow a couple of pain relievers and pour us coffee.

  “Jess, I’m working on the spring schedule. When’s the you-know-what in Toronto?” He casts a look at Mila, and I snicker into my mug.

  “The stadium tour to celebrate our Grammy nomination?”

  Mila snorts a laugh, and we exchange an amused look.

  “I hear nothing when I’m in this house. I swear it,” she says to Parker.

  He gives me a hard look. “Fine. When’s the Alton Wedding?”

  “I’ll check with Wes and let you know.”

  “Wes Alton?”

  I narrow my eyes at Mila. “You hear nothing, remember?”

  She holds up her hands. “Not a word. But… Wes Alton?”

  “We’re playing his sister’s wedding.”

  “Ah. So you’re in touch with him?”

  My smile turns mischievous. “Yep. He hates you too.”

  “He digs his own graves.”

  Can’t exactly argue with that. “Maybe. You should hear their new record though. It’s pretty epic.”

  “’Swan Song?’ Their label sent it over but I haven’t given it a listen.”

  “Really.” I cross my arms. “Ms. Open-minded Music Expert hasn’t touched this month’s most controversial release?”

  She scrunches her nose in defense, and I crowd her against the island. “I don’t think you’re getting breakfast until you check it out.”

  “Oh, you’re extorting me now?” She wraps her arms around my waist and flat-out owns me with a firm grip on my ass.

  “Maybe.” Her lips are so damn perfect. Just a small taste.

  Parker slams his laptop shut. “Well, I’ll leave you two at it.”

  I bite my tongue to keep from laughing as he stomps off.

  “He’s not a fan of us, is he?”

  “Can you blame him?”

  “No. I suppose not.” Her smile widens. “But to make sure you are, I’ll give your Tracing Holland friends a listen.”

  ∞∞∞

  “Jane is Mila Taylor? No way. No fucking way!” Derrick bites down on his fist as he jumps around his kit.

  I throw a look his way and tighten my strap. “Just thought you should know since she’ll be around for a few days.”

  “Holy shit! And she ate our eggs!”

  Parker grunts as he leans over his amp. “Stupid thing is flaking out again.”

  “I thought you were trading that piece of crap in for the Matchless?” I call over.

  “I was. I am.”

  “Wait, she uses our bathroom! Our toilet paper!” Is Derrick clapping?

  “Just use the Fender for now.” I return my guitar to its stand and drag our spare amp from the corner.

  “Who knew she was so freaking hot, though? Like way out of your league, man.”

  I glare back at him. “Dude, just. Stop.” Guy’s a walking headache I don’t need right now.

  “We should pick our set for Friday,” Reece says, tuning his bass.

  Parker nods and zeroes in on me. “I’m guessing Mila’s coming?”

  “Probably.”

  “So are you two a thing now?” Reece.

  I shrug. “Just hanging out.”

  “You trust her?” Parker asks.

  “I don’t know. More than I trust Jonas.”

  “Whoa. Burn!” Fucking Derrick.

  I sling my guitar back on. “We doing this or what?”

  15: THE TUNNEL

  The Tunnel is one of our favorite houses to play. It’s small but solid. Good energy, great layout for an intimate experience with the crowd. It was rocking this stage three years ago when our dream started to feel real.

  “Aw, club’s cute,” Mila says as she joins us at the trailer. I send her a look which she returns with a shy smile. “What? I had a look. It’s cute.”

  “Can you grab that case? It’s just a few stands.”

  I hoist Reece’s amp and lug it through the loading dock door. Derrick and Reece are arguing about something related to the in-ears, and Parker… I’m not sure. Probably making love to the Matchless he picked up two days ago. Dude’s enamored.

  “Are you going to let me watch from backstage?” she asks.

  “Depends. You here as my arm candy or my critic?”

  “Can’t I be both?”

  I drop the amp once we’re inside and wipe my face with my shirt. “I have a feeling you will be regardless of my answer.”

  She reaches up for a quick kiss. “You know me so well already.”

  “You need to earn it then. What do you know about unloading and setup?”

  “I’m George Conway’s daughter.”

  “Is there anything you don’t do?”

  ∞∞∞

  The crowd is electric tonight. The band is locked in, and my blood pounds to the rhythm of drums and bass. I grab the mic, bending it to my will because I fucking own this.

  “My reaction time is lacking

  No backtracking now that you’ve got me on the prowl

  Hey hey

  I’m looking at you, traitor, faker, promise-breaker,

  Re-arranger of the lies we’ve tried to bury

  Hey hey”

  I shoot a smile to the gorgeous woman on stage left.

  “I’m looking at you, pretender, mender, truth-blender

  Defender of the game I thought we ended

  Yeah, yeah, I’m looking at you”

  I spin away from the mic and unleash. No demons. No basement. No Label or Jonas, just me and the music calling a truce now that I’ve given it life. Yeah it’s a curse, but it makes the reward so sweet.

  “That knife you hold is so damn pretty.

  How’s it look in my back? Hey hey”

  The place is on fire. I want to live this moment offstage too.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m looking at you.”

  ∞∞∞

  “Fucking yeah!” Derrick shrieks as we stalk into the green room.

  Mila wasn’t there when we wrapped so I assume she’s waiting inside. I look around and find her seated in the far corner, nursing a glass of wine. She barely reacts when we enter, doesn’t smile, just runs her gaze solemnly over me. The others quiet when they see her, and Parker clears his throat.

  “Uh, I’m gonna go check on Jay and see if he needs anything.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Reece says.

  “You guys don’t want to chill?” Derrick. Idiot.

  Reece slings an arm around his neck. “Later, dude. Come on.”

  I take the seat across from Mila. “You didn’t like the show?”

  She bites her lip. Are those tears? Can’t be.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice is so soft. Fuck.

  I rub my face. “No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not like it’s a secret.”

  She shakes her head and sets down her glass. “Not that.” Her eyes trace me until I’m raw. “You…”

  Her lips crash against mine, hands threading into my hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She pulls away and forces my gaze into hers. “I’m so sorry.”

  My smile slips out slowly. “Wait. You liked it?”

  “You’re… I’ve never seen anything like it. Don’t you understand what you have?”

  She rocks my head with each word, and now I’m full-on grinning.

>   “Wait, are you pissed or excited right now?”

  “Both. Bloody hell, Jesse!” She leans back and squeezes my shoulders. “Promise you’ll—”

  “Don’t go in!”

  We both straighten at Parker’s shout and turn toward the door.

  No. No!

  “Just hear me out. Hear—” an intruder says.

  “Who the fuck let you in?” I jump to my feet. The guys rush in after him and stop cold. “Did you invite him?” I shoot at Parker.

  “I told you we want to work with him. I thought—”

  I clasp my hands on my head.

  It’s all right. It’s all right.

  Not tonight! It’s the wrong night for candlelight!

  My pacing stops. My arm is moving down and the other drops with it. Mila locks my hand in hers and walks us forward.

  “I’m Mila. Who are you?”

  The Devil clears his throat. “Jonas. Jesse’s father.”

  Her hand tightens around mine. “Oh right.” She looks to Parker. “Are you planning to work with this man?”

  He shrinks a bit and nods. “He’s going to help us get back on our feet.”

  Jonas takes a step forward. “I screwed up, but I’m clean now and I have contacts that can help the kids. I want to make it up to them,” he says—he lies because that’s what he does.

  “Ah.” She turns to me and squeezes my hand again. “Love, do you mind if I hear him out for you? Go for a walk or something?”

  I stare at her. What planet is this? But fuck if I’m going to listen to any more bullshit from that man. I glare at Parker on my way out.

  The halls are infested after the show. I do my best to navigate the hives as seamlessly as possible and finally find a quiet retreat in a storage area. I sink down behind a stack of chairs and rest my head in my hands.

  Fuck!

  I kick a stool and watch it crash into a pile of risers.

  I pull out my phone when it buzzes. More messages from Natasha. I delete them. What was I thinking reaching out to her again? I don’t think—can’t—when the demons take over. And now?

  As I push it back in my pocket, it starts vibrating again. Dang, she’s relentless. I go to “ignore call” when my finger freezes.

  Luke Craven.

  Shit.

  “Hey, man,” I say.

  “Hey.” He’s too quiet. “You okay?”

  “Fine, why?”

  Still quiet. Does he seriously have a mini ghost following me around?

  “You don’t sound good.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m fucking great.”

  He huffs a laugh. “Right.”

  “Sorry.” I clench my eyes shut. “Okay, no, shit is messed up right now.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t know, dude.”

  “We’ll be passing through on Sunday. Want to grab a bite?”

  No. “Yeah. Sounds good. Text me when you’re here.”

  The universe is not on my side.

  ∞∞∞

  Jonas is gone, and it’s safe to return her message says.

  Safe. What a stupid, subjective word.

  The guys are quiet when I enter, staring at me like they do when they’re not sure which stage of breakdown-recovery I’m in. Mila doesn’t know enough to be afraid. She pushes a bottle of water into my hand.

  “So we listened to what he had to say,” she begins.

  I lean against the refreshment table. “Yeah? You sign?” I ask Parker.

  He glares at me. “It was a good offer.”

  I focus on Mila. “That what you think too?”

  She leans back in her chair and scans the four of us. Interesting how I’m not the only one hanging on her response.

  “Honestly, boys, I’d turn it down if I were you.”

  Exhales and grumbles lift from the circle.

  “Of course you would. You’re on Jesse’s side,” Parker mutters.

  “My opinion is my opinion. Jesse can vouch for that.” She sends me a smile before leaning forward to face them. “Look, it’s a good offer—for a different band.”

  “Seamless is a huge label,” Reece says.

  “Yeah, and they also cater to pop artists and mainstream markets. If what I saw tonight is any indication, you’re headed in a much fresher direction. Your stuff is innovative and new. You need a label that will embrace your creativity, not try to shove you into a mold. Seamless is even more hesitant to take risks than SauerStreet. They know what formula works for them and it would be up to you to conform. You’d have zero leverage.”

  Parker crosses his arms. “Jonas worked with them for years.”

  “Exactly.” Mila says. “Look, I’ve seen it all. You guys are special. It’s so rare to find different done with such passion and expertise.” She draws in a deep breath, eyes serious. “I’m not blowing sunshine up your arse, here. You guys have the potential to be genre-busters.”

  Derrick snorts a laugh, but Mila’s stare cools and freezes on him.

  His smile fades. “You’re joking.”

  “I’m not.”

  Parker shakes his head. “Thank you for the support, but how the hell are we supposed to bust genres without a label? I get that Seamless isn’t ideal, but if we can just—”

  “You don’t need a label.”

  Parker throws up his hands. “Right. Because that’s been going so well for us.”

  “We play bowling alleys and dive bars,” Reece adds.

  She shrugs and leans back. “Then you’re doing it wrong.”

  Parker pushes himself to his feet. “Okay, if no one else is going to say it, I will. Why the hell do you even get a say? I don’t know why Jesse’s forgiven you for fucking him over, but I haven’t. I get that you know this industry, but thanks to you and your bullshit no one will work with us anymore. So if fucking Seamless Records is willing to give us a shot, then we fucking take it.”

  He shoves his chair against the table and storms off.

  Mila clears her throat. “Is that how the rest of you feel?”

  “I think you’re both right,” I say. All eyes turn to me, and I take Parker’s empty seat. “Maybe you don’t realize the damage you did to us, but Parker’s not exaggerating. You made things impossible for us, Mila. Our own manager dropped us. Promoters, venues, he’s not kidding that we get bowling alleys now. Tonight’s show at the Tunnel is one of our biggest bookings for the entire year. The Alton wedding? Probably number two. We went from stadiums to fucking dive bars. I get what you’re saying, and maybe that would have worked before you wrecked us, but we’re kinda screwed now.”

  She nods slowly.

  “We still love you though,” Derrick blurts out, and I release a laugh.

  “Yeah. Fuck you and we love you.”

  She returns my crooked smile with a weak one. “Nope, I know what you’re saying. I do. I’ve already apologized to Jesse for reading you lot wrong, and it’s long overdue that I do it for you too. I’m sorry. I made a mistake.” She studies us carefully.

  “Listen. I believe in you so much that I can’t stomach the thought of seeing your music corrupted by Seamless. Will you give me a couple of months to help you get back up? If after a trial you’re not happy with the direction, you can sign with Seamless. I have enough connections to make that happen for you if you want it.”

  Holy shit.

  I exchange a glance with Reece and Derrick. They’re just as stunned as I am.

  “You want to help us?” Derrick asks. “Mila Taylor wants to help us,” he directs to Reece and me. He looks back at her. “You have like a billion followers.”

  She laughs. “Considerably less, but I have some influence, yes.”

  “What exactly are you proposing?” I ask.

  She meets my gaze across the table. “You said you’re currently looking for a manager?”

  ∞∞∞

  “No fucking way.”

  Our server and a few bleary-eyed patrons are the only witnesses to our impromptu after-sho
w band meeting at an all-night diner. Still too many eyes if a fist-fight breaks out.

  “She has an extensive platform, Park. We should at least think about it,” I say.

  “Let me get this straight. You won’t even hear the pitch of our own father, but you’re willing to give control of our career to the woman who blew it up?”

  “Our father? How can you call him that?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No. Wake up, Parker! We’ve tried that door already, remember? Mila may have hurt us, but she didn’t betray us.”

  “I’m telling you, he’s different now. If you just—”

  “Whatever. Besides, Mila also admitted she was wrong. Even apologized to me and the band.”

  “She did.” Parker and I glance over at Derrick who shrugs. “What? She did.”

  Parker focuses back on me. “Really. If all of that’s true, why hasn’t she used her ‘extensive platform’ to prove it and tell the world?”

  I swallow ice water to soothe the burn in my throat. “She was going to.”

  Three surprised gazes lock on me.

  “What?”

  More water. Still not enough, and I have to force the rest out. “She was ready to put her name on the line for us. She planned to post a retraction the day I almost froze to death on a park bench.”

  Congratulations, Mr. Everett. You win this round.

  The table stills as I successfully transfer villain status to myself. Worst part? There’s no surprise. No need for clarification. No effort to hang me—I brought my own rope.

  “Give me a chance to fix things for once,” I say, unable to look at them. Who’s the traitor again? “It’s only a couple of months. Let me prove to her—and you—that I can do this.”

  ∞∞∞

  After a good sleep and apology breakfast, the guys at least agree to a trial period with Mila.

  Here we are at our kitchen table: our first band meeting with our new manager.