She wraps her arms around me. “Shut up.”
I rest my cheek on her head and finally feel like I can take a full breath. “Yeah, my chat with security didn’t go so well.”
“Not funny.” She pulls back and reaches a tentative hand up to my face. I let her look. This is what she chose for better or for worse. She grabs my hands and lets out a relieved sigh.
“I didn’t fight back,” I say. “We need those.”
She squeezes and brings my fingers to her lips. “It’s not right,” she whispers, meeting my eyes again.
I shrug. “It’s my reality.”
Luke hovers nearby on his phone. Probably filling Holland in on the rescue.
And then I see him. Storming forward, face a mask of rage.
“Go back inside,” I say to Hannah and step in front of her. I curse to myself when I feel her hand on my back in support. I’d rather her see me beaten by ten thugs than witness a confrontation with my father.
“How dare you?” he growls, stomping toward me, finger extended in impressive outrage.
“She’s my sister. Did you really think you could keep me away?”
“She is not your sister because you are not my son! Was this disgusting idea yours or Sophia’s? When I find out, so help me…”
“Mine.” I swallow the throbbing pain so I can straighten to my full height.
His skin turns purple, veins protruding from his neck and forehead. This can’t be good for his arteries.
“You ruined Sophia’s wedding. You crossed a line I thought even you would never cross.”
“I saved her wedding. You heard her. She loved it.” I can pull off seething anger too.
“You’re lucky I don’t have you arrested for trespassing!”
“Go ahead. I’ll tell them about the assault while they’re here.”
He’s shaking now. The finger returns to shout what his lips can’t. “Stay away from my family.”
If I was confused about his words, his eyes leave no doubt. I am not part of that group. I am not an Alton.
Hannah slips an arm around my waist, and I tuck her against my side. Holland has joined Luke, which means she saw it as well. Great. I kiss Hannah’s hair while they stare in stunned silence.
I squint after the burning freight train that was my father. Dude looks like a troll whose favorite bridge just collapsed as he marches away. “The photographer is gonna have a blast with the family shots,” I say.
Hannah laughs and drags me toward the street. “Let’s get you home, rockstar.”
∞∞∞
Hannah helps me into my condo for the second time in recent history. “You could have stayed at the reception with Holland and Luke,” I say. “I’m sure Limelight is killing it.”
“I’m sure. But I’m more interested in keeping you alive at the moment.”
“Aww, she loves me,” I tease.
“I need you. You’re my meal ticket. Sit.” She points to the couch. “And strip.”
“Damn. So bossy.”
A smile escapes through her resolve, and I gladly play along. But her humor wilts when I shrug out of my shirt.
“I’m fine, Han,” I say as her gaze slides from one section of my bruised chest to the next. “A lot of this is still the original injuries. Just a few are new.”
“Yeah, well, it’s getting old,” she mutters on her way to gather first aid supplies.
“The price of dating Wes Alton, babe,” I call out. I don’t earn any points for that, and she seems even more annoyed when she returns.
“You know there are other ways to handle conflict, right? Or did you skip that day of kindergarten.”
I flinch at the categorically unsympathetic application of alcohol to a gash on my face.
“Tell that to the assholes who keep insisting on crossing my path.”
She’s not impressed by my defense. “Strip club bouncers, maybe. But your father’s wedding security? Really, Wes?”
“Come on. You saw them,” I groan. “Even a nun wouldn’t have kept her mouth shut.”
There’s the hint of my girl’s smile—and she’s not happy about it.
“A nun would have offered assistance,” she says.
“I did. I had all kinds of feedback for them.”
She can’t resist my crooked grin and snorts. “I’m sure you did.” Her gaze softens as she searches my eyes. “Seriously, though, you okay?”
“Of course. This was nothing compared to the Harem thing.”
“That’s not what I mean.” She anchors my face so I can’t look away. “Your father had you jumped at your sister’s wedding and then disowned you. There has to be something going on in that untouchable badass brain of yours.”
“He disowned me years ago.”
I smother anything beyond that because that’s all that matters. That’s part of the frame that will support the next chapter of my life, along with Hannah, music, and a future of proving I’m not a mistake. Yeah, this next one will be pretty damn strong. Strong enough to support Hannah’s as she builds her own.
“You should consider pottery,” Hannah says. “Or yoga.”
I lift the corner of my mouth in thought. “Or MMA?”
29: AUDITION
Viper Rising. Bloody Heart. Proving Scars.
Few things are more frightening for a musician than handing your soul to a jury of label executives. Our panel wants that times three.
“Why three songs? I don’t understand,” Hannah says, chewing on a nail as her knee vibrates the entire office complex. “They must not be sure about us.”
“Will you relax? I doubt this building is rated for this kind of turbulence.”
She shoots a fleeting smile and goes back to bouncing.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Yeah it’s too late. You’re doing it.”
Her gaze is hummingbird-fast all over the conference room. Her brain can’t possibly be processing what she sees, and I shake my head with a grin before returning my attention to tuning my guitar. Thanks to the delay of the audition, I can finally play again. Holland still insisted on coming along to the Label’s main office, but we lost her to a parade of people she had to greet while we’re here.
“I shouldn’t have worn this outfit,” Hannah mutters through my dissonant twang of the D string.
“You look great.” I move on to the G.
“Maybe I should have straightened my hair?”
“Natural is good.” Damn, this thing didn’t travel well. The G is already way out from when I tuned it on arrival.
“Am I wearing too much makeup? Probably not enough actually. I don’t look like a rock star. I should have had Sylvie help me get ready.”
The B string is much better. Just a tad flat.
“Makeup is fine.”
And finally the E. I’d been tempted to change my strings, but I prefer the richer tone after they’re broken-in to the tinny new-string sound.
“What if I forget the words? What if I come in at the wrong time or—”
I grunt and grip her chin. “Han, you are perfect. Your look, your voice—who you are—is perfect. You were born for this. I wouldn’t be here with you if I didn’t believe that.” I place a firm kiss on her lips and return to my guitar.
The tapping moves to her foot. “Okay, but—”
I silence her with a hard stare, and Holland prevents my brain from exploding by bursting into the room. “Good, I didn’t miss it!”
“No, we haven’t seen them yet,” I say, strumming a few test chords.
She nods and drops to a chair beside her sister. “You ready?”
I shake my head with a forceful stop! to Holland. She scrunches her nose back at me, and Hannah spins to check what she’s missing. She shoves me when she sees my face.
“Well, excuse me for not being a rock god for most of my life. Some of us have never done this before.” She crosses her arms. “I’d like to see you in a courtroom.”
I shrug. “Su
re. Sounds fun.”
One day I’ll confess that her vexed-face is ninety percent of what makes it fun to provoke her, but for now I just enjoy the cuteness overload.
A knock on the open conference room door draws our attention. We stand to greet Pam, Raymond, and another man I vaguely recall as Maurice.
“Wes, Holland. Good to see you again,” Pam says, shaking our hands. “And you must be Hannah.”
Hannah rocks an electric smile as she returns the greeting. “It’s great to be here. Thank you for taking the time for us.”
“Well, we loved the demo,” Raymond says, then introduces the three of them. They take seats at the table, settling in for our performance. Hannah follows me to the stools at the front of the room, and I toss her a wink.
“You ready, babe?” I ask, and my stomach drops at the look on her face. “You got this,” I whisper.
She returns an absent nod, eyes huge and glued to the small audience.
Come on, Han.
“This first song is the one from our lunch meeting called ‘Viper Rising.’ Hannah and I co-wrote it and we performed it at my sister’s wedding,” I say.
“It was amazing,” Holland adds.
I check Hannah one more time but she’s completely frozen.
“One sec.” I hop off my stool and block their view of her. I bend down to be eye-level. “Hey, babe.”
She blinks, and I see the terror on her face.
“Do me a favor. Close your eyes.”
Does she even hear me?
“Trust me, Han. Just close your eyes.” She does, and I squeeze her fingers. “We’re in my condo, okay? On the couch. You’re wearing those butt-ugly sweats that still look sexy on you.” A slight smile tickles her lips. “So we just finished watching Judge Whatever and now we’re going to jam for a bit. You wrote these killer lyrics about a woman who kicks the world’s ass. You’re fired up and excited and ready to do some ass-kicking of your own.” She opens her eyes, and I breathe again at the clarity there. She’s back. “You got this.” I kiss her cheek and return to my stool.
“’Viper Rising,’” I say, and start the intro.
∞∞∞
Hannah’s voice is good as we progress through the song, but not magical like it usually is. The nerves are evident in her tone, which suffers from a slight pitchiness that’s uncharacteristic of her raspy vocal. I do my best to cover with harmonies when I can, and honestly, she does pretty damn well for someone as terrified as she is. I’ve heard and seen a lot worse in these types of situations—you’d never know this was only her second public performance. Still, this isn’t a talent show; this is the summit of a musician’s climb, and I know in my gut as I read the faces of our small audience that it’s not good enough.
I have the lead on “Bloody Heart” so it goes much smoother. Hannah’s harmonies are crisp and haunting now that the pressure is off her. She’s Hannah again, a beautiful hurting soul on my couch, trying to find her path.
By the time we get to “Proving Scars,” we’ve found our groove. The nerves are past, and when we switch leads at the bridge, Hannah nails it. She even throws in an improvised run I had no idea she could do. Damn, she’s a pro. Or could be if these critics give us a shot.
It’s impossible to read the final verdict after we wrap. Will they “be in touch” or want to “get us into the studio for a demo”? I’ve heard both over the course of my career, and I know what Hannah’s experiencing right now. She’s wired for self-blame, to believe in her inadequacy. I already see the doubt on her face, the guilt for blowing it.
“Thank you,” Raymond says with a tight smile. “We have a lot to discuss. We’ll be in touch.”
Fuck!
“Sounds great,” I say. “May I have a word with you before we go?”
They exchange a look.
“Me too,” Holland adds, and I shoot her a grateful glance.
Pam checks her watch. “Fine. We have another meeting, so make it quick please.”
I smile my appreciation and turn to Hannah. “Hey, babe can you give us a second? We’ll be right out.”
Tears are already forming in her eyes when she nods. She knows. God, I hate this.
“Thanks for the opportunity,” she says with a weak smile as she passes the executives.
“Thank you for coming out,” Pam responds.
When we’re alone, I take the seat across from them.
“Look, it was a little rough,” I say. “But I’m telling you, that woman out there is magic. She’s unpolished, sure, but she’s raw and authentic, and people are going to love her.”
Raymond lets out a long sigh. “We see that, Wes, we do, but her stage presence… Her voice is studio-ready. A rare find, really, but I’m not sure she has what it takes to perform.”
I clasp my hands. “I promise you she does. You should have seen her at my sister’s wedding. She killed it. Right, Hol?”
Holland nods. “She was phenomenal and that was a very high-stress situation.”
I still can’t interpret their expressions, but at least they’re still in the room.
“I believe in her so much that I would stake my own assets and career on her. You want some kind of guarantee? Give me the paperwork. I’ll sign.”
And I will. I look each of them in the eye as they consider my offer.
“We’re playing Nashville next month,” Holland jumps in. “Let them do a showcase and open for us. I believe in them enough to stake my career too.”
I stare at her in shock. She returns a smile, and I feel a warmth bubbling in my gut.
Pam hisses in a breath. “I don’t know if it’s really an acoustic duo crowd, Holland.”
“We’re not,” I say at the same time Holland says “they’re not.” We exchange a smile.
Holland leans forward. “We backed them up at the wedding with a full band, and I’m telling you, the place was on fire. Hannah and Wes had snooty wedding guests on their feet.”
“We’ll have a full band together by then,” I add. “You’ve only heard the work tapes really. The final will blow your minds, I promise. Hannah will be ready.”
I’m not sure I’ve breathed in five minutes. I glance over to Holland and guess she hasn’t either. We wait while they deliberate with silent looks and motions. And then…
One word siphons air back into the room: “Okay.”
∞∞∞
The hallway is empty when we look for Hannah.
“I’ll check the washroom,” Holland says, and we move down the corridor. Leaning against the wall, I stare out the window and fight the urge to follow her inside. Was Hannah ready? Did I push her too far? Doubt, man. It sucks. And it’s not something I do often or well. When it comes to Hannah, though, I’m learning that every decision takes on a new urgency for me.
I straighten when they emerge from the washroom. I pull Hannah into my arms, and mascara-stained eyes press against my shirt as she burrows into me.
“You did great, babe,” I whisper against her hair.
“I blew it.”
“No. Didn’t Holland tell you? We’re getting a showcase.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Can we just go?” she replies, and I exchange a concerned look with Holland.
“Yeah. Let’s grab some food on the way.”
“I’m not hungry.”
I sigh and raise her face to me. “I am, and you were amazing, okay?” After a gentle kiss, I sling my arm over her shoulders, grab the handle on my guitar case, and lead her toward the exit.
∞∞∞
I ask Hannah to stay with me for a few days. I’m worried about her being alone with her silence. Her parents were good for her, but the world of artistic rejection is mine. She will punish herself for what she perceives as a disaster of an audition, and I’m the one most equipped to prevent that.
The first few days are rough. The girl is stubborn when it comes to hating herself, and she won’t even let me bring up the topic. We don’t have time to waste if we�
�re to be ready for the Nashville show, so I start pulling a band together the second we’re back in Toronto. I call my buddies Pablo and Josh, killer studio musicians who are between gigs, to see if they’re interested in Viper Rising. They jump at the opportunity, and we set up a rehearsal for later that week. After forwarding the work tapes of the songs for them to prepare, it’s back to coaxing more magic from our co-lead.
Hannah gives me a brief acknowledgement when I join her on the couch before returning to the TV. Judge Crabby is yelling at someone for doing something stupid.
“We have a rehearsal on Thursday with our new band members, Pablo and Josh.”
“Yeah? That will be fun for you,” she says, eyes fixed on the screen.
“You too, because you’ll be there.”
“Uh, no I won’t. I told you. I’m not doing this. I’m not good enough.”
My jaw clenches as I study her in silence. I don’t know if I can be compassionate, but I’m pretty damn sure I can pull off cruel to be kind. I grab the remote from her hand and turn the TV off.
“What the hell?” She lunges for it. “I was watching that!”
I hold it out of her reach. “I’ll give it back in a second, but first you’re going to listen.”
Her eyes narrow. “It’s not up for a debate. You were there. I choked. I can’t do this.”
“Yeah, I was there, and I watched you convince a major record label that they wanted to see more of you in a showcase.” Her crossed arms don’t budge, and I let out a breath. “God, Han. How can you not see? You were given an opportunity most musicians spend their lives trying to get and never do. With no experience, you went in there and impressed them to the point where they’re allowing you to open for some of their top talent. Know what they said? Your voice is studio-ready.”
Her stance shifts a bit.
“Studio-ready. They don’t even say that about me. I’m an entertainer and a damn good songwriter, but they’re not banging down my door for solo records. I’ll never be artist Wes Alton. I don’t want to be.” I shake my head and grab her hands. “I’m the other half of Viper Rising. That’s my future, and if Hannah Drake can’t be Hannah Drake, then let her be the other half of Viper Rising with me.”
Viper (NSB Book 3) Page 24