“Okay, text me if you can. Call me if you need to. If anything comes up, I’m here, and if needed I can be there as soon as I can.”
“Will do,” I tell her and stand. When she does too I impulsively give her a hug, then leave.
My knee bounces the whole car ride to the restaurant. The driver tries to make small talk with me and I’m sure I return it, but honestly, I don’t even know what we talk about. My mind and nerves are all over the place. The only two times that I’ve been around Maddox so far he’s been a complete ass. But then last night, when we were outside of the bar talking, there was a flash of something in his eyes. A flash of something more. Of a story that goes deeper than what he allows to be seen on the surface. Something in it called to me, and while I don’t want to make assumptions, I get the feeling that there’s more to him than meets the eye. With those thoughts, I encourage myself to let go of the negative interactions and try again.
When the driver pulls up to the restaurant, I thank him and walk out. The fancy restaurant sits on a busy street in L.A. There’s a patio outside the restaurant with large umbrellas that can barely be seen over the tall and large hedges that offer diners privacy. Moving through the pathway between them, I walk inside the door and am immediately greeted by a hostess. “Hello. Welcome to Thorn,” she smiles at me.
“Hi, thank you,” I respond. “My name is Sailor Blue and I’m here to meet Maddox Colt. I’m not sure if he’s already arrived?”
“Oh yes, Miss Blue, we are expecting you,” she says as she looks down at the hostess table in front of her and marks something off on the paper. “Mr. Colt called and said to apologize to you because he will be a few minutes late. He asked me to please show you to your table. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you there now.”
“That would be great, thank you.”
We weave through other diners swiftly and she leads me to a table in the back corner, that’s set for five. Looking around, I feel confused. The hostess holds out my chair, and I take a seat. She hands me the menu and smiles. “Ricardo will be here shortly to get your drink order.”
“Okay, thank you,” I tell her deciding not to ask her about the large table. Maybe this is Maddox’s usual spot and he likes plenty of room or something, I don’t know. I quickly convince myself not to consider that his being late is a manipulative act - I almost do.
Setting the menu down, I take a moment to check out my surroundings. I’ve never been inside this restaurant before. I’ve seen pictures of it in a magazine, and have driven by plenty of times, but I’ve heard reservations are impossible to get if you aren’t an a-lister. This place is a favorite of several celebrities, so much so that the paparazzi photographs them walking in and out all the time. I’ve seen plenty of photographs of celebs sitting on the patio, and I always wonder how the hell they get those photos given the tall hedges.
The inside of the restaurant is really beautiful – from the black and white marble floors, the crisp white tablecloths, the high backed black suede chairs, and the Queen Anne sofas. There are tall silver vases filled to overflowing with white flowers and abstract paintings line the walls. Looking at my menu, I take a peek at the prices and almost drop the glass of water I bring to my lips. Good thing I’m making a decent salary right now because holy hell. A freaking side salad is fourteen dollars. Suddenly, I remember an old episode of Friends where Phoebe and Joey don’t have money when they go out to eat with their other friends and they order water and a salad – Joey the soup. That’s going to be me.
Just as I’m pretty sure I spot Henry Cavill dining across the restaurant with another actor whose name escapes me, I’m distracted by four men across the room. I glance at them, then do a double take as I realize that the four men being pointed in my direction is the band – with Maddox in front. My god, they are four, very good-looking men. It’s almost as if all the energy in the room shifts toward them.
It may be a fancy restaurant but Maddox kills the casual without a care look. His dark hair is styled to perfection, his facial hair making me want to know what it would feel like tickling my face, his blue grey eyes staring at me intently. I can’t help but let my eyes roll over his body. A simple black t-shirt that displays the tattoos on his arms, jeans that fit him so well it’s sinful, and black leather boots all look good on him and somehow manage to scream rock and roll. Trailing Maddox is Rocco, his bright blue eyes take in the room with a smile on his face, the lights shining on his hair make it even redder. He’s cute with freckles sprinkled across his nose, and he’s wearing jeans as well, but he’s sporting a collared button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms, also displaying multiple tattoos. Nixon comes next, dark hair shorn close to his head, dark eyes, piercings and tattoos for days. He’s wearing a long sleeve shirt, sleeves pulled up and black jeans. His look screams bad boy even more so than Henley who brings up the rear. His blonde hair is longer and practically an art form with the way he has it styled to flip just right with a shake of his head. He’s wearing a vintage Nirvana shirt and ripped jeans. His combat boots smack on the floor as he walks and there’s a toothpick hanging out of his mouth. All very different in their looks, yet all hot as hell.
Standing to greet them, I smooth down my dress and step around the table. Maddox walks to me first and something flashes in his eyes as they take a heated and leisurely tour up and down my frame. Impatient, Rocco steps around Maddox and smiles, “Sailor, hi,” he hugs me which takes me a little off guard, but it’s nice. “Good to see you again,” he says.
“Hi, guys,” I address them all. “I wasn’t expecting to see all of you, but that explains all the extra seats at the table,” I laugh good-naturedly.
At this Maddox sighs, “Yeah, you and me both.” With a shrug, he walks to a chair across from me and takes a seat. Rolling his eyes at Maddox, Henley walks to my chair and pulls it back from the table once again, waiting for me to take a seat. I smile brightly at him, “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he murmurs and I swear Maddox murmurs something under his breath. I’m positive I’m correct when I catch him scowling at Henley and Henley smiling brightly at him in turn.
“I thought I was only meeting Maddox because he wanted to learn more about me and talk about what it’s like being a professional. Additionally, I guess we need to determine if we can get along. He said you guys are worried about that – about whether or not we’ll end up creating a problem for everyone,” I fade off as everyone looks at each other and I feel like I’m missing something. A look at Maddox finds him with his face buried in his menu.
Rocco smiles at me, Henley snorts, but Nixon finally speaks, “Um, yeah. Mad lied.”
“Lied?” I ask my brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“We aren’t worried about that at all. We know that no one can really get along with Maddox. Hell, we merely tolerate him. If anything, Maddox will need to be the one kept in line, not you, love. He’s an ass these days. To everyone,” Nixon says with a smile.
“Downright prick at times if you ask me,” Henley adds.
“Hey!” Maddox protests. “That’s not true.”
“Yeah it is, Mad, sorry,” Rocco says and Maddox sighs and looks back at his menu like a sullen baby. It makes me chuckle softly and his eyes meet mine again, and narrow. “As far as your experience, well, we had none either until we were given our initial opportunity. So, that doesn’t concern the rest of us.”
“Well, not that I’m not happy to see you all, but why exactly are we all here then if this was all a ruse to begin with?” I ask shooting an appropriately nasty look at Maddox.
“We found out about your dinner twenty minutes ago. Maddox told us what he’d done, so we invited ourselves,” Henley says with a shrug.
“Yep,” Nixon says. “We want to get to know you better too. And of course save you from having to dine alone with this guy,” he says jerking a finger at Maddox.
“Yep, we want to know everything about you. Tell us your whole life s
tory. We want to know everything,” Rocco says.
“Ugh, I think I’ll pass on that suggestion. Trust me, it’s not that interesting. I’m not that interesting,” I state nervously yet adamantly.
“Now I know that can’t be true,” Maddox says leaning forward with his elbows on the table looking at me intently.
“Have you always lived here in California?” Rocco asks.
“No,” I reply. “I moved here about three years ago. I grew up in a small town where the minds were even smaller.” I pause take a sip of water. “I outgrew it and wanted to get out,” the lie comes easily and with little regret.
“What about your parents? Are they still living there? Or are they here? What do they think about your singing with us? Will we get to meet them? Any sibs?” Rocco asks.
“Wow. That’s a lot of questions, but I can answer them quickly. No siblings. My parents are dead. I’d love to know what they think, but…” I shrug.
“I’m sorry,” Rocco begins and the other guys start to say something but I shake my head.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Have they been gone long?” Maddox asks me softly. Looking at him I see his furrowed brow and tenderness in his eyes.
“Since I was twelve. A long time.”
“Do you like it in LA? You must if you haven’t left yet,” Nixon asks and I’m thankful for the change of subject.
“I love it here. The weather is great, the people amusing. My best friend is fantastic, my job pays the bills, and there’s really nothing else to tell. See, I told you, I’m boring.”
“When did you realize that you love to sing?” Maddox asks me.
I can’t help but smile at him. “I don’t ever remember not singing. I remember performing for my parents when I was little. My mom played the piano beautifully and I would sing as she played. Our home was always filled with music, my dad had an album collection he loved, and I remember some serious rock concerts I would perform in front of my bedroom mirror using my hair brush as a microphone.” They laugh and I smile. “Of course, I was amazing. Won all kinds of awards.”
“Awards?” Nixon asks.
I move my hands to the side, pretending to hold an award in them. “First, I’d like to thank God, for giving me the ability to sing, and my parents for their support through the years.” They all laugh and look on in amusement. Maddox is smiling widely and I think to myself that he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. “I’d like to dedicate and share this award with my idol, Pink, not the color, the singer. She inspires me to be myself, and I feel like it’s my duty to thank her for the song Just Like A Pill that I’ve sung no less than 5,308 times.”
They all laugh again, “Pink, huh?” Henley asks.
“Um, she’s kick ass,” I tell him.
“That she is,” he agrees.
“Remind me to have you sing that song for us some time,” Maddox says with a smile and a wink and it makes my stomach flutter.
Thankfully, the waitress arrives and takes our orders. I hurriedly choose a soup and salad, and then focus back on the guys around me. “What about you guys? I did my research of course before I went to the audition; but-” I know the best way of deflecting the potential trajectory of this conversation is to turn the discussion to focus on them.
“Not everything they say about us in the press is true,” Maddox says sternly, a black cloud seeming to suddenly hang over his head.
“Well I know that. But, what I want to know is more information about how you decided to start the band. The article I read online only said you formed it in junior high school, where you met each other, but nothing else.”
“It was Mad’s idea,” Rocco says.
He shrugs, “I thought singing and playing guitar was cool. Chicks dug it.”
“Yep, we were convinced that we could steal all the girls away from the jocks in school, so what started out as a joke, turned into us actually getting good over time,” Nixon said.
“We all met in band,” Rocco reveals. “We had different teachers and our school was large, so while we knew of each other, we didn’t really talk until we started taking band in sixth grade. One night after a school band concert there were a few girls that had attended with their parents because they had siblings in the band. They were hanging out and talking with us, kind of flirting, and it was awkward because we had no clue what we were doing, yet glorious at the same time,” he says making me laugh.
“Yeah, they didn’t want to talk to the guys playing trumpet and sax, but they were all over the guys playing guitar,” Henley says.
“And drums,” Rocco adds proudly and Nixon rolls his eyes adding, “They talked to all of us.”
“Well sure, put a guitar or drums in the hands of a guy and girls look right past the puberty and pimples and see a rock star,” I tease.
“Exactly,” they agree with a laugh. “That’s why as the girls were walking away from us that night, glancing at us over their shoulders as they went, Mad turned to us his eyes glazed over and said, ‘Boys, I bet you they would kiss us if we were in a rock band’,” Nixon says making me laugh.
“Important goals, I can support that,” I laugh.
“Laugh it up, it worked. We were kings at our school,” Maddox says with a grin and an air of cockiness that makes me suddenly have an image of these guys in high school. All gangly limbs, crazy hair and leather jackets trying to look cool – I’d kill to see a photo. When I say as much they all shake their heads and say no way.
“The funny thing is, when we got together we actually played and discovered that…we were pretty damn good,” Henley says.
“Yeah, and it ended up taking on a life of its own. Before we knew it, once we hit high school, we were getting asked to play at kid’s parties, dances, and as we got older, around town. We loved it.” Maddox tells me.
“What was it like to be offered a recording contract?” I ask.
They all smile but are quiet for a moment as if taking a moment to remember it is required. “It was one of the proudest moments of my life,” Nixon says honestly with a look of wonder on his face. It makes me smile because I can certainly understand why that would be the case.
“We became a regular house band at the club Gaslight,” Rocco begins. “Every Friday and Saturday night for a while we were the featured band.”
“Yeah,” Henley says taking over the conversation. “Then one night, Rick happened to stop by to meet a client and have a drink at the bar on an evening we were playing. He’d never heard anything about us, or had a clue a band would be playing.”
“The funny thing is,” Rocco says picking it up again, “we had tried sending in demos over and over, but we couldn’t get anyone to return our phone calls.”
“That’s not true,” Maddox says. “Remember the guy that told us he could help us kick off our career and get on the radio. All we had to do was pay him something like ten thousand up front to get started.”
“Oh my god,” I say. “Scammer.”
“Yeah, they’re everywhere,” Maddox says.
“Other than that,” Nixon says, “we never got the time of day from anyone. Not until Rick happened to hear us. He approached us after our set and asked if we would call his office to make an appointment to come and talk to him further about potentially signing with Black Lamb.”
“We thought he was lying about who he was at first, and called him fully expecting to see it through and then call the cops about him scamming us,” Rocco adds.
“Imagine our surprise when we pulled up to the Black Lamb Records building,” Henley says with a smile and laugh.
“You didn’t research him beforehand?”
“Well sure, but the professionals have websites and all that. Plus, what are the chances we’d be discovered that way?” Now that I can certainly understand. “So we were prepared for it to be a big lie.”
While they’re telling me the story, our food arrives and we all eat while we continue to talk. “And the rest is history?�
�� I ask.
“Yep, pretty much. It’s been a whirlwind these last two years, but we wouldn’t change it for anything,” Rocco says.
“No regrets?” I ask.
“None,” Nixon says immediately. “And I think I speak for all of us when I say so,” he says looking around and they all nod. “We love this life. And not because of the money, travel, fans, or the girls” he grins, “although it’s awesome, don’t get me wrong. It’s because we’re performers at heart. We love and are passionate about what we do.”
“And because of that, we take it very seriously. The latest….” Rocco looks at Maddox then back at me, “complications are unfortunate. But, that’s life. It can be a bumpy road, and we will get through this just like anything else.”
“Of course you will,” I state having no doubt about that. Regardless of what’s been said in the press about Maddox’s antics of late, they do seem passionate about their work and appear to have themselves together.
“Does it intimidate you at all thinking about joining us?” Maddox asks.
“Intimidate me? How do you mean?”
“Because of what you’ve probably heard or read about me in the press,” he asks. “You’ve seen it all, right?” he laughs bitterly, “I mean, who hasn’t?”
“Maddox-” Nixon starts.
“No, Nix. It’s an honest question,” Maddox insists. “What kind of girl would want to get involved with a band where it’s been written that the lead singer is ‘messed up’ and ‘unstable’?”
I take a moment before I respond to look at him. His mouth is firm and I can see the muscles working in his jaw. His stare is hard, but not unkind. Past the defiance and anger, there’s that thing again…that something more. And once again, I know there’s more than meets the eye to Maddox Colt. “We all have times in our lives when we make poor choices. Do things that we regret, or if given the opportunity we would change. Circumstances we find ourselves in that we would go back and do anything to change,” I begin and feel my throat close with my words. Pushing past it, I reply honestly, “I’ve had times like those. I’m sure the other guys here have as well. The difference is that you live your life under a microscope. There are people around you more than happy to report to any and every slight misstep you take. Does that suck? Yeah, I’m sure it does. But as you all said, you love your job, you are passionate about it, and it’s what you want to do. So I guess you have to ask yourself, what’s more important? Continuing to make shitty choices that could put all of that at stake? Or dealing with your shit and knock it off?” Maddox stares hard at me, and the guys, well they’re all open-mouthed like they can’t believe I have the balls to say what I’m saying. Well buckle up boys, I’m not a girl that’s afraid to speak her mind – especially when asked.
Broken Melody (Graffiti On Tour Series) Page 9