Rocking Hard: Volume 1

by Sol Crafter, Diana Sheridan, Talya Andor, Lacie J. Archer, Angel Propps

  Bailey had to clamp down on his desire to retort, That's not going to happen because bassists are replaceable. Sasha had made it more than clear at one point that if Gunner went, he went. And, unlike many bands that were fronted by someone as dynamic and high-profile as Bailey, his bassist had a fair share of his own fans who would riot and tear the fanbase apart if Gunner left.

  He clutched his coffee for a long moment and tried to get hold of his temper as Jonn filed out after Tor and Sasha. It wasn't what they were proposing that infuriated him so much as the method, treating him like a child and giving him ultimatums. Fix this, or else. He couldn't stand it, so for several long sweeps of the clock-hand, the only thing that Bailey did was sit rigidly in his chair and grind his teeth.

  A number of approaches occurred to him. He was a lyricist, after all, and shaping words was his gift, as natural as breathing. Resentment kept him from speaking up with any of them.

  Bailey hadn't been outright rejected, but he'd been put off, strung along by so many smoldering looks and suggestive innuendo-laden exchanges, he didn't think that obliviousness was Gunner's problem. He was pretty sure it was blockheadedness. Gunner was so used to getting whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, with nothing more than the crook of a finger. It had made him overconfident, and Bailey wanted to wipe that arrogance off his face.

  Or fuck it out of him. Even now, mad as he was, Bailey couldn't decide.

  When he was out of coffee, Bailey pushed away the empty paper cup and stood. Gunner had torn a page out of his packet and appeared to be attempting to make a paper airplane. He looked up at Bailey, and he stood as well, his mouth flattening in displeasure.

  Even standing, Bailey had a height advantage over him, and he was conscious of it as Gunner glared up at him.

  Bailey glanced to the side, to the glass panels that formed a barrier between the conference room and the rest of the hall. True to his word, Jonn was standing outside, arms folded, back to the glass door. Sasha and Tor were out of sight, but probably around the corner somewhere getting more coffee or scuffling as they waited.

  "I'm not dumb, you know," Gunner spoke up, startling Bailey and drawing his gaze again. "But it's not going to happen. I thought the politest thing to do was pretend you weren't panting over me like a bitch in heat."

  Bailey's eyes went wide and his spine went stiff. No one ever talked to him like that. "You prick," he spat, offended beyond endurance. He wasn't going to pull any punches. "You think pretty highly of yourself, always in the middle of a bunch of girls willing to settle for second best because they can't get past you to get to me."

  Gunner gave a short, curt laugh. "Like you'd know what to do with one," he said, reaching over and picking up his paper airplane. He cast it in Bailey's direction and squared off, thumbs hooked in his jean belt loops, a pugnacious expression settling over his face.

  "Girls aren't the issue," Bailey said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. "You think you're being polite when your eyes are all over me, and you drop innuendos the way your pants go down every night?"

  "I have eyes, Bailey; it's normal to look and admire, and you know how gorgeous you are—"

  Bailey cut across that with a withering, "You're a cocktease," he said bluntly. "All your pretty rationalizations don't stack up to the fact that you knew what you were doing, and you didn't have the balls to follow up when I showed you that I might be interested, too."

  Gunner looked pained rather than stubborn for the first time. "No, that's not what I …" He trailed off, freeing a hand from his belt loops to rub at his neck and look away.

  "Cocktease," Bailey repeated, icy from the hurt and anger tangled up inside him. "It's okay for you to look, but it's the absolute end if you're attracted to something with a dick, am I right? I never thought of you as a homophobe before, Gunner, but now—"

  "I am not homophobic!" Gunner yelled at him, balling his hands into fists and taking a step toward Bailey.

  Bailey twitched, glancing toward the door and Jonn. If worst came to worst, he could dash around the table and escape that way. He'd never been bashed, and he wasn't going to start now.

  "It's called joking! You know, that thing you do with your friends?" Gunner continued, volume still set on high.

  Bailey sucked in a sharp breath. "Then you're crueler than I thought," he accused. "Because you knew—you must have known—it wasn't a joke for me."

  "I didn't think you were serious," Gunner protested. "How far have all of us pushed the flirting game? The fans fucking love it, Danelle says; every PR person we've ever had tells us that the fans eat that shit up. But I'm not gay, Bailey."

  "You don't have to be gay to love one person," Bailey said. "To have sex with one person, the one—"

  Gunner groaned. "Not that shit again, Bailey. Please. There's no press here."

  "I think you can love someone regardless of gender, of sex," Bailey said, but stopped when Gunner shook his head and raked hair away from his face.

  "You in general, or me in specific?" Gunner asked.

  Bailey bit his lip, brow furrowing. "I don't understand."

  "Seriously, Bailey? Do you seriously think you're in love with me?" Gunner asked.

  Bailey shrugged, looking out the window, and his frown deepened. "I don't know, you never gave me a chance."

  "That's bullshit," Gunner said, low and forceful. "You can be hot for my body, Bailey, and it's fine, plenty of girls are. Plenty of guys are, too, and I don't mind if they are but … but when they try to do something about it, that's when it's not okay. That's crossing the line."

  Bailey blinked as Gunner compared his behavior to one of the fans that tried to throw themselves at all of them. Plenty of girls, and guys, had done that to him too, during meet and greets or photo ops. He remembered one girl who'd had to be pried off his leg by security.

  His face went hot. "I, I didn't," he stammered, horrified and insulted by turns that Gunner would draw that kind of comparison. "That's not what I … you were always looking, leading me on—"

  "No," Gunner denied, shaking his head emphatically enough that hair fanned out around his face.

  "Yes, you were!" Bailey insisted, stabbing a finger in Gunner's direction. "I know the look on a man's face when he wants me, Gunner; I've been seeing it long enough. Are you seriously going to lie to me and tell me that you don't—"

  "I don't want you," Gunner said, his words falling flat and evenly spaced as he held Bailey's gaze. His fists were clenched and although his nostrils were flared, his gaze was perfectly rational. "I know it's hard for someone with your ego to believe, but I don't."

  "My ego?" Bailey responded with a wild laugh. "I'm the one with the ego here? Yes, you're not ego-ridden at all, and while we're speaking of impossible things, why not claim you're not so completely ruled by your dick you've got to dip your wick in a new pot every night! How many times have you had to go to the doctor for that problem, Gunner? Has the herpes cleared up again?"

  "Bailey!" Gunner barked out. "That's not funny!"

  "No, it's not!" Bailey yelled back, his own hands forming fists now. "You don't like it when the joke's on you, do you, Gunner? It's not funny, stringing someone along, then deciding to tell them their interest in you is like a sexual assault. Only, you never did say 'no,' did you, Gunner?"

  Gunner breathed in, sharp and high. "Have you met yourself, Bailey?" he demanded rhetorically. "You don't react well when someone tells you no. Actually, that's an understatement." He gave an ugly laugh.

  "So, what was that whole thing?" Bailey demanded, trying to ignore the sting of bright, sharp hurt that Gunner's words delivered. Worse, the laugh; like he and his feelings were some inside joke. "Why look at me like that, why act like that, if you never had any intention of … of doing something about it?" He'd been about to say, of being with me, but that sounded too melodramatic even to his own ears.

  Gunner sighed. "You're hot, Bailey, okay? You're gorgeous, and you know it, and everyone knows it. You're right on the edg
e, you could be a boy mistaken for a girl passing for a boy. You are … smoking." Gunner spread his hands; his shoulders raised and dropped. "But there's such a thing as window shopping, you know? Look, admire, but not something you can bring home."

  Bailey wet his dry lips with a nervous tongue. "Because I'm a boy," he said, about to attack on that front again. He had a hard time believing there were people who weren't at least a little bi-flexible.

  "Because you're you," Gunner concluded, looking him right in the eye when he said it. "You are too difficult, too goddamn diva, too—fuck, demanding and clingy for me to even want to try it."

  The wind was let out of Bailey's sails. He nodded slowly, absorbing the words but already done with the conversation. "You're such an asshole," Bailey said on his way to the glass door. He skirted Gunner by a good three feet to prevent any possibility of contact, ready to dance out of range if Gunner even tried.

  "Yeah, I probably am," Gunner said to his back. "But you're no saint."

  Bailey barely heard it, too wrapped up in his own head. The glass door couldn't slam behind him; it just kind of bounced on its rubber treads.

  Jonn made way as Bailey stormed out of the conference room. "All done in there?" he asked in anxious tones.

  "Oh, we're done," Bailey said, toneless. He turned his head, spotted Sasha and Tor down the hallway, and stalked toward them.

  "Uh-oh," he heard Sasha mutter.

  There was rarely a need to guess or ask what kind of mood Bailey was in; he wore his emotions on his face. "Take me home," he said to Sasha and Tor, who didn't bother to give him any snark for once. They pushed away from the wall and silently led the way to the elevator.

  Bailey kept his back straight and his head held high. His first instinct that morning had been correct. Coffee aside, he never should have left his bed.

  Bailey took one look inside the interview room and turned on his heel, ready to go right back out again. It had been two weeks, and that was too soon by Bailey's reckoning.

  Tor blocked his path, eyeing the look on Bailey's face before barring the door with his arm for good measure.

  "It's too soon," Bailey protested.

  "We have a press interview," Tor reminded him, and lifted a hand to do a twirling gesture.

  Reluctantly, Bailey did an about face, casting a withering glance at Gunner, who was browsing the catering table just inside the door. If Gunner saw him, he didn't show any indication, continuing to pile his plate with fruit and pastry.

  It was their first joint appearance since the explosive fight at the office, and for Bailey, the wounds were still raw. He was smarting over so many of the things Gunner had said and implied. To be lowered to the same level as some overeager fan with no sense of boundaries cut him deeply.

  Bailey had thought the attraction had been mutual. Instead, Gunner had said outright that Bailey wasn't worth the effort of a relationship.

  "If you can't be civil, then ignore him," Tor said behind him.

  "After what he said, being ignored is the best he can expect," Bailey said, heading straight for the makeup chair at the far end of the table. He wanted to get this over with.

  He was first to be prepped, and he spent the time after he was ready speaking with the production staff. They were doing a magazine interview, followed by a photo shoot. Pretty standard stuff for them, and the magazine was on board with the quirky styles that they liked to adopt. Most of Courage Wolf's music was offbeat, and getting press exposure that played along with that had really helped them to carve out a unique sort of niche in the music industry.

  At last they were all seated on a low-lying black leather couch. Tor acted as buffer, sitting snug beside Bailey—between the four of them, it was a tight fit. Tor had gestured for Sasha to sit beside him and that put Gunner as far away as possible.

  "Courage Wolf's new single has debuted at the top of the charts!" the interviewer, Sally, enthused. "How are you guys feeling about that?"

  "Really great," Bailey said with a brief, dazzling grin, pitching his enthusiasm at a level comparable to hers. "We're happy to be performing again, and glad that all of our fans love the new music as much as we do."

  "I've heard Gold Star myself, and it's very catchy," Sally observed. "It's the kind of song that won't leave your head. Reminds me a little of Weird Al."

  Bailey kept his smile firmly in place. "He doesn't really write his own songs—"

  "He rewrites lyrics to other popular hits," Tor cut in, knowing how much Bailey hated that kind of comparison. "If you could compare us to anything, really, it would be a pop-rock They Might Be Giants."

  "Right, I love them!" Sally agreed, diverted. "So can you tell us a bit more about the new album that we're all looking forward to so much?"

  "Like a lot of our stuff, it's mostly meme-based, a lot of pop culture references," Bailey said. "It's part satire, a lot of humor, all in good fun, of course."

  "Do you ever get backlash from the subject of your satire?"

  It was a good question, and Bailey greeted it with a smile and a lift of his chin. "No, we're careful when we pick out our subjects," he replied. "Our objective isn't to make fun of anyone, really, or to make people feel bad about themselves. We want people who follow our music to have fun with it, enjoy the songs and have a good time. If we poke fun at anything, it's usually a trend, rather than a person whose feelings could get hurt."

  "Would you say that some people might call that shallow music-making?" Sally said, leaning forward.

  Bailey bit his lip and glanced at Tor; it was his signal for say something before I tell her I don't fucking care.

  "Sure, there's always going to be people who want to criticize," Tor spoke up smoothly. "A lot of people say popular rock is, itself, pretty shallow. All we can really say to that is 'rock on.'"

  "Music takes all kinds of forms," Bailey continued, giving Tor a brief look of thanks. He faced Sally again, speaking in a more kindly manner as he considered it her loss to think of music in such narrow terms. "That's really the beauty of working in this kind of medium. We can make the music we love to make, and it has its place, and those who want to make other kinds of genres or use different ways of arranging lyrics will find their fans as well."

  "It seems your group has a pretty sizeable number of fans online," Sally commented.

  "Oh, yes, it comes with the territory," Bailey said with a nod.

  "They have a lot of fun," Sasha added with a brief, quiet laugh.

  "So do you interact with your fans on the Internet?" Sally asked.

  "Well, sometimes we set up live chats with them," Bailey said. "Aside from that, and our official Facebook and Twitter, no, not really."

  "And what about in person?"

  Bailey's mouth flattened, and it escaped him before he could filter it. "Well, Gunner has plenty of interaction in-person with fans," he said.

  Tor's elbow nudged his ribs.

  "Oh, really?" Sally said, her voice going up an octave.

  "What can I say?" Gunner replied, spreading his hands and favoring her with a smirk. "I am popular with the ladies."

  Bailey rolled his eyes. "Yes, out of the four of us, I have the biggest fanbase, but Gunner is definitely the one with the biggest head."

  Tor's foot knocked into his ankle, now, and Bailey sat up a little straighter.

  "Yeah, well, Bailey here …" Gunner started, though he shut up quickly.

  Bailey didn't even have to look over there to know that Sasha had staged an intervention. He lifted his chin, confident that he was in the clear for now.

  "Oh?" Sally prompted.

  "I've got the biggest ego, is probably what he was going to say," Bailey said with a toss of his head. "Nothing I haven't heard before, but so long as Courage Wolf keeps winning awards, I can afford not to care about that."

  "Why bother with modesty, right?" Sally said with a brief laugh. "Okay, some questions for all of you, now. What kind of hopes do you have for the new album?"

  "I want to tour so
mewhere we've never been," Bailey said decisively.

  "I want to find a new good luck charm," Tor said with a small sigh.

  "Sounds like there's a story there," Sally commented as Bailey turned a bemused smile on him.

  Tor gestured to Sasha, who said, "I want to meet more sexy ladies. It's a personal goal of mine to have a girlfriend by the time we're done touring."

  "And Gunner's is probably to have a girlfriend in every city where we tour," Bailey slipped in his crack before Gunner could speak.

  Even from his end of the couch, Bailey could see Gunner's jaw harden. His eyebrows went up, but all he said was, "There's never enough of me to go around, you know? It's hard being so popular!"

  "And what about your love lives, Tor, Bailey?" Sally asked, circling back around.

  Tor waved a hand. "I'm basically married to my job," he said.

  Bailey sighed and put his head to one side. "I'm open to romance," he replied. "Always looking, you know? But it has to be the right person. I need someone who will accept me for who I am, not who they think I am. Someone who realizes I'm no saint, but wants to be with me anyway."

  Gunner stiffened.

  Bailey had been looking for it out of the corner of his eye. He smiled slightly, focusing his attention on Sally again.

  "Saint Bailey," Sally said with a smile. "It has kind of a ring to it, don't you think?"

  "Ha," Gunner said. "If you knew the things we know…"

  "Oh, tell me more!" Sally invited, clasping her hands together.

  "Sorry, classified," Tor replied, giving her an engaging grin. "It's really more of an inside joke."

  Bailey snickered.

  Sally went on with the interview and Bailey made jabs at Gunner when he could, and Gunner taking it with less than his usual good humor. He tended to be the butt of a lot of Tor and Bailey's jokes in their interviews, but today was different and they all knew it. It was a relief to wrap up the interview portion and move on to the photo shoot.

  "I didn't like most of her questions," Bailey muttered, folding his arms as he waited for the photography director to decide where he wanted them. "We ought to go back to having Danelle pre-screen them."