by Nina Levine
West gives me a look of relief. “Yeah, we did, actually. I think we might have our first song for the album. Tomorrow, we’ll record it and see how it sounds.”
“That’s great.” My enthusiasm is a little waning because I’m watching Jett and he doesn’t look as impressed as the rest of the guys about this.
Still frowning, he interjects, “We might have a song, but I’m not convinced it’s the right song.”
His concern worries me. I’m still learning the dynamics of the band but I’ve kind of worked out that Jett knows his shit and has directed the band to the success they currently enjoy. I’ve read numerous interviews with them online and all the band members mention that he’s driven them this far, so if he’s concerned this song isn’t the right one, I’m inclined to listen to that.
“Why?” I ask him.
Van scoffs and turns his attention to me. “Don’t listen to him. This song is different to anything we’ve ever done; it’s gonna get everyone’s attention. It’s gonna be fucking huge.”
Jett’s shaking his head at Van’s statement. “See, that’s where I think we’d go wrong if we release it as a single. It’s fine to have on the album and use to guide our fan base into a new sound from us, but to use it as a single, and for it to be the first single off the album, I think that’ll fuck us.”
“I’m so tired of making the same music we’ve been making for ten fucking years, Jett. We need this. I fucking need this,” Van says, and it’s clear, even to me, that he’s going through something. His hard glare and the tense slant of his shoulders tell me how fired up over this he is, and the animosity in his voice is obvious.
“Yeah, well, if we rush into any change, you’ll need a lot fucking more than new music, Van. I’m telling you that fans won’t buy the album if we give them a single that’s completely different to what we’ve been giving them for so long. And then you’ll be needing a new fucking job.” Jett’s restraint is fraying, and when I lay my hand on his leg like I often do, he doesn’t take hold of my hand like he usually does but rather he ignores me and keeps his attention completely on Van.
Hunter speaks up, and I realise he’s the peacekeeper of this band. “I vote we record the song and keep working on more songs before we make a decision.”
Van replies but doesn’t take his eyes off Jett. “It’s not the song that Jett’s against so much, Hunter. It’s the change in direction I want that he’s fighting so fucking hard. He’s stuck in the past decade and doesn’t want to change whereas I know we have to change and keep up with the industry if we want to keep doing well.”
Jett stands, shoving his chair back, his face wild with the anger he can’t contain any longer. “Get your head out of your ass, Van. I’m all for keeping pace, but I’m also smarter than that, and know we have to do it slowly.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he storms off towards the back of the restaurant. I watch him for a few moments and then turn back to Van who is also staring after him.
West is pissed now, too. “What the hell has gotten into you two lately?”
Van directs his hard glare to West and says, “I’m sick to death of him telling us what we’re going to do and making all the band decisions.”
“For fuck’s sake, Van, he doesn’t make all our decisions. We all get a say.”
“It doesn’t feel like it. And this is a prime example. I’m making a suggestion that we need to think about our sound and make some changes and he’s shooting every suggestion down.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Hunter says. God, the man is so calm, and I can’t help but think he must have some serious shit hidden underneath that totally calm façade. People who are that controlled always have heavy shit buried deep.
“Well, it’s what I fucking heard,” Van barks.
Hunter’s body is rigid as he leans his face forward but his face is clear of any kind of irritation and his voice is still deathly calm. “I think you’re still fucked up over that bitch cheating on you and I think you’re taking it out on Jett and on us.” He takes a breath before adding, “And I think you need to get your shit together. Fast.”
My attention suddenly shifts when I catch sight of a familiar face coming through the front door of the restaurant. My manager, Michael, walks in and is seated at a table not far from us. He’s with a guy I’ve never seen before; a really fucking good looking guy that I struggle to take my eyes off. I’m committed to Jett and would never stray, but hell, there’s no harm in looking. Van and West are still going at it but it’s like white noise to me while I watch Michael and this dude.
I’m just about to tear my gaze from the hot guy when Michael eyes me and waves for me to come over. I excuse myself from the table and head over to where they are. Flashing a smile at both men, I say, “Hey Michael,” and then I turn to his friend and say, “Hi, I’m Presley.”
The guy’s eyes light up and he stands. Putting his hand out to shake mine, he says, “Presley, we finally meet.”
Oh good lord, I would know that voice anywhere. It’s the Kentucky Fire voice from earlier today. And the voice matches the looks. Diesel’s as hot as they come with an easy smile that lights up his face, dimples that would grab any woman’s attention, and scruff that makes him even more irresistible. His dark hair is shaved close to his head, his arms are covered in colourful tattoos, and his ears are pierced with spacers. He’s the quintessential rocker with jeans that hug his legs, a fitted black t-shirt that paints his muscles, chains around his neck, rings on his fingers, and heavy black boots.
I shake his hand and then try to let go, but he keeps hold, so I’m left standing there in limbo waiting for my hand back. “Hi,” I say with uncertainty, waiting for him to release me, and feeling like I’m on the back foot here. Like he’s got all the control here. And I hate feeling that way.
He grins and eventually drops my hand but his eyes are all over me. This guy manages to fluster me and piss me off all in one go; not a good combination. When his eyes meet mine again, he flirts with me as relentlessly as he did on the phone this morning. “You’re everything I imagined you’d be, darlin’”
I roll my eyes. I’ve managed to regain my sense of control, and although he’s hot as hell and smooth as they come, I’m not even vaguely interested. “And you’re everything I wish you weren’t.”
The twinkle in his eye doesn’t escape me. God, I’m not trying to encourage him, but it seems that everything I say is exactly what he likes to hear. “Please keep talking, ‘cause every damn word out of your mouth is getting me hard,” he says, and I’m so relieved Jett is nowhere in sight.
Time to get the hell out of here. “It was good to meet you, but I’ve gotta get back to my table.” I quickly turn to Michael and promise, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I’ve made up my mind – I’m not working with Diesel. He couldn’t pay me enough money to ever work with him.
Diesel’s hand lands on my arm and he moves it to grasp my wrist and halt me. “Have you made a decision yet?” he asks, his eyes steady on mine, as if I’m the only person in the room.
I don’t want to get into my decision with him because I know his type; he’ll do everything to try and get me to change my mind. “No, I’m still thinking it over,” I lie. “I know you need an answer yesterday so I’ll definitely have one for you soon.”
He regards me for a moment and then says, “I look forward to it.”
I’m just about to turn and leave when a deep voice sounds from behind me.
“Get your hand off my woman, Diesel.”
I wait for Jett’s hands to slide around my waist but he simply steps next to me to confront Diesel.
“I didn’t realise she was your woman, Jett,” Diesel responds without letting me go, but I shake my arm free and take a step back.
“She is.” Jett doesn’t say much but his voice holds a warning. However, Diesel doesn’t seem like the kind of man to listen to warnings. He strikes me as the kind of man who lives his life on his own terms and
fuck what anyone else says.
“I don’t see a ring on her finger.” Diesel stands firm and I groan on the inside.
Men!
I interrupt their dick-slinging back and forth. “I’m with Jett, Diesel, and I certainly don’t need a ring to prove that,” I say with force. He needs to hear this, and he needs to leave us be, because Jett’s getting more worked up every second we stand here.
Diesel shifts his gaze from Jett to me and asks, “Is he the reason you’re having trouble deciding about the job?”
Well, shit. Now he’s dumped me in it.
Jett’s head swings around to face me. “What job is he talking about?”
I don’t like the way he demands that and my temper begins to unravel as well. Catching Diesel’s attention again, I answer his previous question. “No, he’s got nothing to do with my decision and now if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got something to talk about.” With that, I ignore all of them and stalk outside, hoping Jett will follow me, because we’re about to have a discussion about his jealousy.
As I step outside onto the footpath, the warm September evening greets me with a whisper of humidity, and I’m thankful I chose a dress tonight over jeans. I turn around to find Jett following close by, the hard set of his jaw revealing his mood. His shift from easy-going Jett to jealous Jett has been swift and it’s brought with it a whole new dimension to our relationship. One I don’t care for.
“Are you going to tell me what he’s talking about?” he throws at me as soon as he meets me outside, and it just annoys me further. I’d hoped we could discuss this without his bad mood getting in the way.
“Are you going to back down and let me tell you without having you get the shits at me?”
His eyes widen and he opens his mouth to say something but clearly realises that’s a bad idea and quickly closes it again. In the end, he simply nods.
My heart rate has picked up and I’m fighting my own anger now. I try hard to express myself without letting that interfere, but I struggle. “Diesel has offered me a job touring with them for a couple of months, photographing their tour.”
His face contorts with displeasure. “Diesel the band or Diesel himself?”
I’m so close to snapping, and I fight like hell to keep myself under control. I don’t like this Jett but I know underneath all this shit is a good man so I try to make him understand he has nothing to worry about. “Diesel the band. I’ve never met Diesel the man until tonight. And I’m not going to take the job so there’s actually no need for this conversation.”
My words don’t placate him. If anything, he seems to only be getting more worked up. “When were you going to tell me about this?” His voice has taken on a nasty tone and it hurts.
My resolve to keep my anger in check breaks and I let loose on him. “The other night, actually, but you were wrapped up in your own work problems and I just wanted to let you talk and sort through your stuff so I didn’t tell you. And besides, my decision didn’t involve you, so there wasn’t any great rush to tell you.”
His eyes widen again and the vein in his neck ticks. “Your decision didn’t involve me? How the fuck can you even say that? I thought we were doing something here - ” he flicks his hand out and points back and forth between us, “ – I thought we were working on an us here, Presley.”
“We are, but you can’t expect to be able to start bossing me around and telling me what I can and can’t do. That’s never going to happen, Jett. I won’t ever let a man boss me around again.”
He rakes his hand through his hair. “I’m not fucking bossing you around. I’m just asking to be told what’s going on in your life.”
“No!” I yell, pointing at him, letting the anger take over completely, “You’re shitty because I was talking to Diesel. You’re shitty because you’re jealous. That’s why you’re here trying to throw your weight around, telling me I have to tell you about shit. I was going to tell you and you just have to trust me on that.” I take a deep breath. “And next time you’re all jealous and wild, you need to calm the fuck down and talk to me rationally because if you’d just remained calm and asked me what he and I were talking about, all of this could have been avoided.”
“Fuck!” he roars. “I’m not trying to throw my weight around. I just didn’t like being caught off guard like that.”
“Jett, I don’t deal with jealousy well, so if you’re going to get jealous every time I talk to another male, we’re going to have problems.” I stare at him and wait for his reply. We need to get this under control before we get too far into this relationship and before it becomes a full-blown problem.
He’s not seeing eye-to-eye with me on this, though, and he stares at me like I’m the one with the problem. “For fuck’s sake, I don’t have an issue with you talking to other men. I’ve told you what I had an issue with and it sure as hell wasn’t that you were talking to Diesel.”
I raise my brows. “Oh, really? So, I could go back in there and sit with Michael and Diesel, and talk to them for a while, and you would be okay with that?” I can feel the bitch in me coming out, but I can’t stop it.
“Sure! Be my fucking guest.”
We stand on the footpath glaring at each other for a good minute or two and then I blow out a long breath. “Fine!” I shout and stalk back inside to get my purse. I’m done with tonight. We’re not getting anywhere, and I need some time out. Just looking at him is making me mad at the moment.
I pass Michael and Diesel’s table and completely ignore them as I head to ours. The guys all look up as I approach and my mood is obviously written all over my face because they all shrink away from talking to me as I grab my purse. Once I have it, I turn on my heel and almost run into Jett who is standing a few steps behind me, his angry glare focused completely on me.
“Are you leaving?” he asks, his voice tight, but much more controlled than it was outside.
“Yes,” I mutter as I push past him.
“I’ll take you home,” he says as I walk away.
“I’m fine.” I just need to be on my own and he’s not making this easy now. Damn him and his manners. Even when he’s angry with me, his manners are still there. Who the hell does that?
I keep walking, not even sure if he’s still with me or not, hoping he isn’t, but as my feet hit the footpath, his voice sounds from behind. “Presley!”
Sighing, I stop and turn to face him. “I can get a taxi, Jett.”
I don’t know what he was expecting, but I don’t think it was that. He stares at me for a moment before finally nodding, the set of his jaw hard again. His gaze shifts to the road where there’s a taxi waiting and he moves to it, opens the door for me, and then closes it once I’m in. We don’t say another word and as the taxi pulls away from the curb, I realise this was our first fight.
Shit.
6
Jett
The first thought that hits me as I wake up the next morning is that I’m going to need copious amounts of water and headache pills to get through the day. My head throbs, and my gut feels ill from the mother of all hangovers I’m experiencing. My second thought is that I fucked up big time with Presley last night and once I get this hangover under control, I need to find her and sort that shit out.
I stumble out of bed and head into the bathroom for a shower. I’m almost naked when my phone rings. Hoping it’s Presley, I grab for it, but am disappointed to see it’s Doug. “Hey, man, what’s up?” I ask.
“Jett, the market’s taken another dive, and I think you should convert what’s left of your shares into cash holdings and bonds.”
My gut drops at his words and if I didn’t feel sick before, I feel really fucking ill now. “How much did it drop this time?”
“You’ve lost another fifteen percent,” he says, his voice sombre.
My mind is spinning, trying to think straight. Between the headache and this news, I can hardly begin to make a decision let alone even think about it. “So you recommend that now? Getting rid of th
e shares?”
“Yeah, now I do. The market is fucked at the moment. It might not take any more hits, but you just never know. You need to go into preservation mode, my friend.”
“Do it.” I know I need to make a quick decision and seems as though my mind isn’t at full speed today, I decide to trust him. He’s never led me astray to date.
“I’m on it,” he says, and we hang up.
I lean my hands against the edge of the vanity and stare at my reflection in the mirror.
This will be okay.
I will fix this.
* * *
West looks up as I enter the recording studio just over an hour later. He grins and raises his brows. “How’s the head?”
“Almost under control,” I reply, looking around for Van. I ran into Hunter outside but am yet to see Van. “Where’s Van?”
West shrugs. “No idea, but you’re early. I wasn’t expecting either of you for another hour or so.”
I pull out my phone. “I’m gonna call him and see if he’s on his way.”
He frowns. “Fuck, don’t start something with him so early in the day.”
Looking up at him, I ask, “What?”
“You two agreed on a time for today so don’t call him and harass him to come early. And what’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing’s gotten into me,” I mutter, the pain in my head racheting up again.
“Something clearly has, because you’re here early for once, and you want to get Van here so we can get going. And I didn’t think you even wanted to make this album.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I do want to make this album, and I want to get this shit done fast.”
I’ve clearly confused West because he’s almost gaping at me. “What the fuck happened to make you do a complete flip on this?”
Agitation prickles my skin, and I shove my fingers through my hair. “My shares have taken a hit; a fucking huge hit. I’m bleeding cash, West. I need this to get done.” We’ve always been honest with each other so I lay it out for him.