One Kiss from the King of Rock (The One Book 2)

by Ainslie Paton

  Jay opened his mouth to protest Grip’s assumptions and shut it again. He went with flipping Grip off and then banged into the men’s room as if a peacekeeping force was chasing him. The hole in his esophagus was big enough to swallow the whole damn tour.

  THREE

  Evie counted eighteen people in Sound Blast Touring’s conference room. That included the tour management team, her dad and three brothers, four members of World’s End, their manager and promotor, a bunch of record company execs from two labels and a work experience student who was taking a third round of coffee orders.

  They were all waiting for Jay and in serious need of an icebreaker.

  Everyone else was on their phone, except Dad and World’s End’s manager, who was Jay’s mother, Janina Endicott.

  Evie eyed them suspiciously. Janina had been a single mum and a marketing bigwig in a bank when Errol started managing Property of Paradise. She dressed in slick suits, had a no-nonsense shiny bob and wore understated jewelry and towering heels. Evie had always admired the heels. The only things Janina had known about the music biz were that her son had an incredible voice and could write a killer song and what Errol taught her when they were backstage at PoP shows. Now she managed one of the biggest bands in the world. She wore tight tan pants, a white cami and a boho-embroidered duster. The jewelry was funky, the shoes were edgy, and her salt-and-pepper hair was halfway down her back and gloriously untamed.

  Evie admired nearly everything about her.

  Except her spawn and the hand she had on Errol’s arm.

  That hand made Errol puff his chest up and break out his Christmas Day hit-song smile. That hand was on its way to making sure Jay got everything he wanted from this tour and the name of the game was compromise for Lost Property.

  She nudged her oldest brother, Abel, and inclined her head towards them.

  “I saw,” Abel said, keeping his voice low. “Dad had to scrape his jaw off the floor when Janina walked in.”

  The number of whitened teeth the two of them were showing would make a dentist happy but made Evie think of sharks.

  “I’ve got this itchy feeling that none of this is good,” Abel said with an illustrative squirm.

  “Except for playing stadiums and the money,” said Isaac without raising his head from the game he was playing on his phone. Sitting next to Isaac, Oscar gave that a thumbs-up.

  “Did you push Grip down a set of stairs?” Abel asked, shaking the empty chair beside him.

  “He’s outside with Jay.”

  The color drained from Abel’s face and he swiveled around to look out through the glass wall at the corridor beyond. “So the bastard is here.”

  Ninety minutes late because of some airline screw-up, but Jay was certainly here. It was like every cell in Evie’s body was vibrating with the knowledge of it.

  “Be cool,” she said and got a grunt in return. Abel wasn’t going to be cool with Jay until they smack talked each other for a good year or two. Isaac was more likely to just smack, which would be a whole lot quicker and Oscar would brood silently in a way that took up no space but made everyone near uncomfortable without knowing why.

  If it wasn’t for the chance to grow Lost Property’s fan base through a stadium tour and the money that would bring in, none of them would be in this room. Evie had considered not showing. She wasn’t a decision maker. If it wasn’t for needing good content of the World’s End and Lost Property guys together, she could’ve avoided Jay until they were avoiding each other backstage. She needed that content. She needed Jay’s big rock star energy to rub off on her brothers, and her best friend Teela had called her on it.

  Evie had once made the mistake of telling Teela that Jay had ruined her for other men, and musicians in particular, and Teela never forgot a revealing confession.

  After Jay, anyone in a band and by extension, anyone who worked as a roadie or in management for a band, was a lust object to be conquered and then dumped before they started to expect anything remotely like genuine affection. Which meant Evie rarely stuck around for breakfast.

  It’d be a sad indictment of the state of human relationships except that’s exactly how the guys behaved because that was one of the benefits of being in a band. Hook-up culture was going strong, nobody wanted the hassle of a relationship, there were plenty more swipes in your back pocket and someone better might show up. FOMO in the sack was real.

  That described her three brothers and even Dad, after Mum died, although he at least cooked his hook-ups breakfast, called them a car service in the morning and sent flowers.

  At this stage of her life, if a man bothered to chase her up for anything more than a dirty weekend, Evie would be shocked into a nunnery. She was perfectly happy to have great sex with attractive, charismatic men and then get on with her day. If she ever wanted something more permanent, she’d have to change her hunting grounds because music biz people were allergic to commitment, and congenitally attuned to fun times, not long times.

  “Why would you let Jay win?” Teela had said in their last chat session.

  Which was fine for Teela, who was a competitive go-getter, now dating hot Hollywood legend Haydn Delany to say. Teela had won the ultimate jackpot. Her man was handsome, rich, motivated to do some good in the world and moving with a pack of his adopted rescue dogs to Sydney so Teela didn’t have to give up building her business to be with him.

  They were in opposites land.

  Jay had promised Evie they’d stick together and take on the world and then broken up with her for no reason she understood, trashed the band, destroyed his friendships and then become a rock god who’d shown up to flaunt his success and make her feel angry, jarringly nervous and just plain miserable.

  Avoiding Jay wouldn’t be letting him win as much as it would be saving her from doing or saying something to jeopardize the success of the tour.

  “Fucker could’ve booked some other band,” Abel said too loudly, precisely echoing her thoughts and making everyone on the other side of the table freeze-frame for a second before going back to what they were doing. You could just about smell the animosity in the room.

  “Not if he wanted all his fingers to keep working,” Isaac responded, eyes still on his screen.

  Oscar gave a thumbs-up.

  Dad was still making teeth at Janina.

  Evie messaged Teela. I am in hell and it’s your fault, and then Grip walked in with Jay behind him.

  “I’m sorry for being late, everyone,” Jay announced, causing his side of the room to wake up and gather round him. Janina got the first hug and there was much backslapping and joshing around with the members of World’s End, Tex, and the others who Evie privately referred to as Scruffy, Serial Killer and Most Likely to have a Deviated Septum.

  She clicked a few photos because they were outrageously attractive men. Tex had a lopsided smile and violent blue eyes. Scruffy had a bun and an amazing beard. Serial Killer had beautiful forearms and even Deviated Septum was handsome in that big-nosed, rugged-featured, monster-shoulders way. Together they formed a seriously scenic backdrop for Jay’s careless, lithe beauty.

  She posted to the Lost Property Instagram feed with the caption Ran into some old friends today. That would stir things up. Another shot went in the Lost and Found fan group Facebook page with the caption Look who showed up. Consider this a massive teaser.

  If they didn’t sign the final contract today she’d be teasing nothing but more photos for the fans and if they did, there’d be a press conference and Abel and Jay would make the announcement together.

  If they could handle standing side by side long enough to be civil.

  “Kept his hair,” Abel snarked. It’s a wonder Jay didn’t feel the heat of Abel’s eyes on his neck, right around the jugular.

  “Shame about his swollen head,” Isaac added.

  “What is Errol doing?” said Oscar as their father approached Jay. “Traitor.”

  Big A for awkward. Jay met Errol’s outstretched hand with
a frown that he schooled quickly when they clasped and shook, but not so quickly that the rest of the Tice family didn’t catch it.

  “Think of the money,” she said, taking a photo. “Think of the fans.”

  She zoomed in on Errol and Jay’s faces. Jay had never known his dad. Killed in a car accident when Janina was pregnant. He’d idolized Errol, but he’d never bothered to stay in touch. No dues were paid to the man who’d given him a start in the business. The strain of this was in the scrunch of Errol’s face and the way Jay’s eye contact flickered. The hug they transitioned to had all the warmth of a slip ‘n slide, but it made a good photo that she’d find a use for.

  She prodded Abel. “Get up. Go talk to him. Errol can’t make this work without you.”

  “Thinking of the money,” Abel said, getting out of his chair like he was ninety and needed new knees. Isaac followed but Oscar didn’t move. Evie kicked him. He didn’t budge, just moved his leg out of reach.

  “Get up,” she hissed.

  “I don’t have to forgive him.”

  “And I don’t have to post that photo of you in your superman suit when you were five.”

  He shrugged. He had a point, that photo was super cute. He’d been an angelic-looking kid, the baby of the family, the only one Evie as the third born had been big enough to bully at the time. “I don’t have to post the photo from last year of you in your birthday suit when you’d barfed all over yourself, either.” Her techniques had improved since then and didn’t rely on cute factor.

  Oscar got up. They’d all been hurt when Jay ran out on them. In Errol, it showed up as bewilderment. He never said Jay’s name again. In Abel and Isaac, it had solidified into the kind of artful hate that comes from having been bested by someone who was once a technically inferior friend. In Oscar, it was hero-worship turned rancid and sneering.

  And in Evie, what were you supposed to feel when the lover who changed the whole course of your life reappeared and he was more amazing then ever? Like kicking doors, like running away, like bracing for a final blow, like bursting into tears because your body still wanted that heartless traitor of a man to wrap his long arms around you and kiss your spinning brain quiet, sweeten your bitter soul.

  It was her bitter soul that made her get up in the mornings. She needed it.

  She was the only person in the room still seated, and only the work experience girl was more of an outsider and even she was chatting to Grip. Kicking doors it was then. She stood and made her way towards Jay and slipping between Abel and Errol, she offered him her hand.

  “Hi.” The words it’s good to see you snagged in her throat and she dropped her arm as Jay reached for her. It was altogether better not to touch him, too many memories of how his touch made her feel as if she didn’t have to try to find words and meaning, they just fell into place effortlessly. The world had made sense when she was in Jay’s arms.

  The only thing that made sense now was getting this tour done to cosmically rebalance the damage Jay had done to her family. Had he not been a coward, it could’ve been Property of Paradise who won three Grammys, had their songs used in movies and advertising. It could’ve been her brother’s musical legacy that made them rich and famous enough never to need jobs as plumbers or painters or office droids, or the session musicians they sometimes were now to supplement their income. It could’ve been Errol’s chance to retire in comfort after decades of scraping by as a music teacher and the band’s manager.

  And if she could manage this right, by ruthlessly exploiting the association with Jay, maybe they would be at least a little closer to that vision when the tour was over.

  And maybe then, when she’d used Jay up, when she’d walked away from him on her terms, she’d be ready to let the ghost of him finally go.

  FOUR

  Jay thought the thing with Evie and Grip in the corridor was a weird vibe. It had nothing on the arctic chill of the conference room he walked into. Apart from the girl who offered him coffee, no one was happy to be there.

  He’d known coming back would be awkward and his own band thought the whole old-score settling theme was a hassle they didn’t need. Even Mum had counseled him against it. She’d always been worried that Errol would come after them for a share of royalties from songs Jay had written but never played or recorded when he was still with PoP. Songs that had helped make him and the rest of World’s End richer than men who could hold a tune and play musical instruments well deserved to be.

  Back then he’d thought Abel was a better lead singer, that the brothers wrote better lyrics than he did, and that as classically trained musicians who could each play multiple instruments, didn’t need anything he had to offer. He still thought Abel had the better voice, that Lost Property were tight, and their stage presence was electric.

  It was just that after he left, their songwriting sucked. It was inconsistent, a hit followed by a string of misses and then another hit and a miss and so on. A lot of that was simply bad luck, not enough airplay or marketing, or a release schedule that pitted their songs against a bigger hit from an overseas artist that soaked up all the attention. A part of it was the fact they never stopped arguing and he’d been their referee.

  When he quit the band, Jay intended on quitting the industry all together and for a while he simply traveled, poured drinks in dive bars and felt sorry for himself. He missed Evie like he’d lost an arm or a leg and the part of himself that could express emotion easily withered to a stump overnight. He was an irritable lump of quiet despair and writhing resentment for almost two years until the day he missed being killed in a car accident by the width of a guitar string.

  It was too close to home, his broken collarbone a mere scratch, but a wake-up call. He might’ve died, just like his dad, with only a dazed heart, a beaten-up backpack, a five-year-old laptop and credit card debit to his name. He wrote his first new song with his arm still in a sling and his whole body a bruise of pain.

  And now Evie stood in front of him, her rigid posture saying step around, just like she did in the corridor, and he felt bruised all over again.

  “Yeah, hi,” he said. “It’s good to see you.” In a hurts so good way that made him want to go lie down in a dark room with a cold cloth over his forehead.

  She laughed, no real mirth, only sarcasm. “I can’t say the same thing, but we have to work together.”

  “Grip explained what you do. It’s not,” he lost steam and shook his head. This wasn’t the place to ask her why she wasn’t singing or writing or being her own star.

  Arms crossed over her chest defensively she said, “Not what?”

  And asking that question would rip up old scar tissue for both of them. “Not what I expected.”

  “Let’s get things clear. The only thing you should expect from me is using you for content for the fans, driving ticket sales and making sure Lost Property gets a fair deal.”

  “All business then.”

  She had a phone in his face before he saw her hands move, a magician’s trick, “Smile, arsehole.”

  He put his hand up to block the shot. Who the fuck did she think she was? But she posted it somewhere anyway, with a smirk he wanted to kiss off her face. It was fucking inconvenient to find she hated him, to find he still wanted her, in spite of being brutally rejected by her all those years ago.

  “If everyone would take a seat.”

  That was some guy in a suit from the tour company calling the meeting to order. Jay found himself sitting opposite Evie as Mum and Errol hashed out the minor details of the final contract with various agents and lawyers chiming in. This would all be a formality. The deal cut over twelve months ago. Errol could ask for as many new concessions as he wanted, Mum would employ all her charm and subtle cunning to make sure he felt like he was winning.

  In truth, Errol was toast. He might’ve walked Mum through the basics of the industry before she ever considered becoming a manager, but now she was acknowledged as one of the best in the business. Abel would get over hi
mself and Isaac and Oscar would toe the line. They had too much to lose. Evie though. Evie was doing everything possible not to look at him even as Jay made it his religion to catalogue her features.

  She’d changed; in ten years you’d expect it. And she hadn’t. Same dirty blonde hair, mixing dark and honey colors, but she’d added red to the underside. Same slender form, but she’d layered on muscle; a yoga-fit body. Same love of black clothing. It was more expensive this time around. She’d pierced her daith. He was betting on a tattoo and was that a nipple cuff?

  “Jay.”

  He flinched at Mum’s touch. Or maybe at being caught out staring at Evie’s perfect, tiny boobs.

  “You’re fine with this?” Mum slid a piece of paper in front of him. It said, stop staring at Evie.

  So, yeah, he got caught out. “I’m fine with it.” He’d hear about that later. Don’t do anything stupid.

  Meanwhile, Evie was truly fine. An intoxicating blend of tough and fragile. Like leather and silk, barbed wire and gossamer web. Nothing straightforward about that. She was both raw and refined, guarded and free. Complex.

  Unforgettable.

  Without looking up, she wrapped her hand around her water glass and he saw the ink between her last three fingers. Squiggles. No, wait. Musical notes. A flash and then gone.

  She was still the wild thing he’d fallen for. Still made his heart headbang in his chest.

  But she was also his personal Bermuda Triangle. A mystery he’d never solve. He knew where she was on his mental health map and that place was marked dangerous, keep away, and yet she was sucking him in all over again.

  He was supposed to be angry with her, or if not angry, unaffected. It was hard to feel that way watching her focus on her phone screen, her hair falling forward, partially obscuring her face, making him want to vault the table and gather it into his hand to get it out of her way. To lift her head so he could put his cheek to hers, run his nose along her hairline, find out if she still smelled like caramel and turn her mouth up for a kiss he knew he’d feel all the way to his cock.