Hearing Nigel talk about those classic bands brought her mind back to Jude again. Her cheeks burned as she thought about their time on tour, and she turned away as she fought a smile, not wanting the driver to notice. Looking down at her hand, she began playing with Jude's ring.
The homes disappeared as they followed a curving road up a small hill. The car came to a stop at a tall gate and Nigel lowered his window to press a small red button attached to a speaker.
"Yes?"
"This is Nigel Jones. I have Olivia Saldano for Mr--"
"Enter."
The gates slowly opened. Lucky could see the Spanish-inspired home at the end of the driveway. Its sand-colored exterior rose from the dark green grass and the sun reflected off the black and tan tile roof. The house was one level with huge windows, and she could see straight through to the Pacific Ocean from the front of the house.
Nigel stopped the car at the arched doorway, opened her door, then grabbed her bag. As she stepped out of the car, she could hear music coming from the side of the house and looked to see if she could find it. It wasn't music she recognized and she wondered if there were other artists there, too.
"This way, Miss," Nigel said as he led her along the walkway towards the music. Curving along the house, they came to a smaller building, not much larger than a two-car garage. Above the front door was a red light. Nigel pressed a button then placed her bag next to her. "They'll be right with you."
Listening to the rhythmic sound of the ocean beating the shore, she got lost in thought and didn't notice a young man open the door. His dark blond hair was shaved close to his scalp and he wore a white tank top under a grey hoodie with jeans. Briefly thinking he looked like a girl, she knew he looked familiar but couldn't place him.
"Lucky Saldano?" he asked with an Irish accent. "I'm a big fan. I heard you were recording today but didn't know if I'd run into you. We should do something sometime. I really love those new songs you performed on tour."
"Thanks. Umm…Jake, right?" She suddenly realized he was the latest teen pop star. "That sounds like fun."
"I've been trying to get people to take me seriously, you know. I know what they think of me. This album I'm working on here is going to blow everyone away. I'd love for you to give it a listen once it’s done."
"Sure, sounds great, thanks."
She followed him in and he brought her to a room with a large couch and several chairs. In the corner was a kitchenette.
"Sorry, I was running late today. I don't mean to cut in on your time," Jake said. "If you're not dating anyone, maybe we could go out sometime while we're both in town."
"Oh well, thanks, but I'm not sure..."
"Call me."
He handed her his card and walked out of the room. Shaking her head, she tried not to laugh and thought of how funny Jordan would think it was. She pulled out her phone and began texting her.
"Did that little shit try putting the moves on you?"
Her breath caught in her throat as she heard his unmistakable voice. Her heart did its usual flips when Jude was around. She was afraid to look up. She couldn't move. She didn't want to be disappointed in case she finally lost her mind and was making him up.
The sound of his boots thudding on the floor mimicked the pounding heart in her chest. His hand covered hers and slipped Jake's business card out of her hand.
"Hey, he gave that to me," she said.
"Were you going to call him?"
She finally looked at him. Jude had that playful half smile that always wrecked her. His smoldering green eyes locked onto hers and she gasped softly, forgetting to breathe for a moment.
"No, I just thought it was funny. I was going to show Jordan."
"Good. I couldn't take it if you chose him over me," Jude said with a laugh as he handed the card back. "Nice ring, by the way."
She grinned stupidly and felt her cheeks burn again. Quickly texting Jordan "he's here," she slipped her phone back into her bag and could hear it dinging with Jordan's reply.
"Why are you here? Do you know the producer?" she asked.
"I am the producer."
"Huh? But Richard said--"
"That he entered into an exclusive deal? After I got out of that contract Donna negotiated, Richard and I got to talking. He knew what I really wanted to do was produce and write songs. That's why I was in that contract for so long. He refused to let me create music if she was going to benefit. Once he found a loophole, the contract was done, and well, here we are at my home studio."
"Wow. So he tricked me. He knew I'd never come here if I knew it was you."
"And why is that? After everything we shared. Why did you end it?"
"I…I don't know. I think I was afraid," she said.
"Of what?"
He wrapped his arms around her, letting his hands rest on her hips, and looked into her eyes. Lucky thought about the songs they wrote about each other on the bus. She remembered their time together, not just LA or New York, but all the other cities, too. Then she thought about her time without him and her chest ached.
"Of losing you," she said.
"So you broke up with me so you wouldn't lose me? That makes no sense."
"Jude, look at you. You're Jude Morrison. I'm just some girl who got lucky. I was in the right place at the right time. You've been everywhere, done everything, you don't want some idiot the label thought was too fat to be the only girl in the band."
"Yes, Olivia, I have been everywhere, done everything, everything you know about me is true. What's also true is that I love you. I fell in love with you when I heard your first song on the back of the bus heading to DC."
"But--"
"No, let me talk this time," he said. "I think all those years I was on the road, all those women I thought I was in love with, everything was just leading me to you. Every step I took brought me closer to you. I've gone through life looking for that one person who was going to complete my soul. I found that in you."
Lucky gulped as she tried to hold back tears of joy. Every word he said rang true to her heart. As her mind spun, he pulled her closer to him. He looked down into her eyes and kissed her lips, letting his lips linger. Wrapping her arms around him tightly, she pressed herself against his strong body.
"I've missed you so much," she said. "I hated myself for what I did in New York. I just thought it was easier if I ended things before you did."
"It’s in the past. You're here now. Stay with me. I can't promise I'll let you leave though." He grinned again, still holding her tight.
"I'll never leave. I love you, Jude. I always have."
As they held each other, Lucky listened to his heart thumping as wildly as hers. She wondered how she could have been so blind to it before. He was the man of her dreams, and lately it seemed all of Lucky's dreams came true.
Continue reading to learn about Jude's past and see how he and Lucky are doing in The Ballad of Jude
1
Jude
Eel Pie Studios occupied a converted freestanding garage near the entrance of Silverlight's legendary drummer Jude Morrison's home. The control room hummed from the recording equipment and amps. On one side of the glass was the rehearsal space where a seven-piece maple drum kit with matte black shells sat in the center of the room. Jude's signature drum kit made its first appearance during Silverlight's first world tour, which was to date the highest grossing tour for any band of the last two decades.
Between the money, the women, and the accolades, no one understood why Silverlight ended. Even the fans refused to admit they broke up. Jude had heard it all, from how Cade's ego got too big to how Jude's personal life intersected too much with the band. Now, with the Silverlight documentary, it was the time to set the record straight.
Jude pushed his shaggy dark hair back as he admired his drums from his swivel chair at the soundboard. The chrome fittings on the drum kit reflected the light of the room, reminding him of stage lights. Not many people got to do what they loved, and Jud
e was always humbled whenever he thought about Silverlight's simple beginnings. It was sometimes hard for him to accept that he was the drummer in the band many people called the biggest thing to happen to music in the last twenty years.
Jude Morrison had his favorite black motorcycle boots propped up on the edge of the soundboard as he leaned back in the dark burgundy chair. He cocked his head to the side and peered out from behind a pair of gunmetal Ray Ban Aviators at the young man entering the room.
As Feature Reporter for the foremost music magazine in the industry, Nathan Fielding was living his dream. The boyish twenty-something stepped into Eel Pie's recording studio with a beaten canvas messenger bag slung across his lanky form. Nervously running his hand over his shaggy hair, he quickly smiled when he recognized the drummer of the biggest band of his generation--Jude Morrison.
"Hi, I'm Nathan Fielding," he said as he extended his hand for Jude to shake. "It's an honor--"
"Cut the crap. I know who you are," Jude said, ignoring his outstretched hand. "I remember you from Olivia's tour."
"Yes, I did the Lucky Break documentary. Is she here?"
"She's here. You won't be seeing her though. She doesn't do interviews anymore."
"But she's just starting out..." Nathan said, sounding disappointed.
"Let's just say she wasn't too thrilled with the experience. She's not used to people criticizing every little thing about her and her music. She cares too much so it really wounded her."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't want to get into it, but people didn't get it, and you definitely didn't get her," Jude said. "She's a very private woman who grew up sheltered in a way neither of us could really understand. It takes a lot for her to be as open as she was, and to hear people criticize what they saw of her relationships really cut to the bone."
"What did people say? I thought I was very fair in the documentary. She was open and honest as far as I remember."
"You know how people are, Nathan. They said we fell in love too fast. That she and Jordan didn't seem like best friends," Jude said as he let out an exasperated breath. "Jordan is the closet person Olivia has other than me. She doesn't open up to just anyone. She doesn't know how. Add to that that Jordan is complicated in her own right. A lot happened just before the tour that neither of them were ready to talk about, so they didn't. Sometimes when you're close to someone, you find comfort in silence. Anyway, I've already said too much."
"Well then, let's talk about you. That's what I'm really here for anyway," Nathan said. "You did fall in love really fast though."
"I do that, that's how I am. I'm passionate," Jude said, smirking. "But when it came to Olivia, I didn't have a choice. I knew she was the one the moment I first set eyes on her. Then later when I heard her songs, listening to those lyrics. Man, you really have no idea. There's nothing more intimate and personal than reading someone's words. That was definitely it for both of us."
"You said you knew the moment you saw her. What was it about her?"
"Everything. She's my 'split apart.' I couldn't exist without her now if I wanted to."
"Split apart?"
"Yeah, you know, Plato?" Jude said, annoyed. "He believed that our souls were all split and we spend our lives looking for our match, the other half. Our soulmate. That's Olivia." Jude's voice softened as he spoke about his girlfriend. Clearing his throat, he dropped his feet to the floor and propped his elbows on his knees. "You gonna stand the whole time?"
Nathan quickly sat down on a long couch along the wall by the door. Opening his bag, he pulled out a spiral notebook with a pen clipped onto the wire and a small digital recorder. He scribbled something on the lined paper and then pressed a button on the recorder.
"Okay. So Lucky, I mean Olivia, won't do interviews anymore, and I know you've been burnt before," Nathan said. “So why did you agree to the Silverlight documentary?"
Jude let out a small laugh. "Because I don't give a fuck anymore," he said, grinning as he leaned back into his chair. "Listen, I love our fans and I know they'd love a documentary about Silverlight. Everyone wants to know what happened. They want details. The fans have been through a lot, following us from the beginning and all. They deserve to know." Jude stroked his stubbled chin thoughtfully before continuing. "I've been in this business long enough to know that you can't please everyone. A lot of people just need to find something wrong with what you do and shit all over it. I don't care, people can say whatever they want. Haters gonna hate, you know?"
Nathan nodded as he jotted something into his notebook before looking up at Jude. "It’s been said that Silverlight changed the face of modern music. Everyone knows the story of how you guys got together, but be honest now, Jude. Is there any one person you can point to for making that happen?"
Jude laughed and took his sunglasses off, revealing deep green eyes, then set the Ray Bans down on the edge of the soundboard. Leaning back into his seat, he grinned and nodded slowly at the young man across the room. He let the question hang in the air, knowing the courage Nathan must have summoned to even ask such a thing.
"I know what you're asking," Jude said gruffly. "You don't want to hear Richard Black, you already know the answer." Looking at Nathan's wide, anxious eyes, Jude knew how far Nathan had taken it and the direction he was heading. "Why bring her up?"
"You know why," Nathan said, sounding cocky. "She was an important part of your life and Silverlight's. Actually, she's important to a lot of bands nowadays. She has a gift for finding talent."
"I don't know about finding. I'd say talent finds her. She's a magnet. A muse..." Jude said as his voice drifted.
"Yes, I know. It took me a while, but I tracked her down and spoke to her. Zoey had a lot to say about you."
2
Zoey
The 1990s
Zoey Ackerman stood by the club's sound booth as she scanned the darkened floor for her partner-in-crime and fellow waitress at The Roxy in West Hollywood. Spotting Megan Spencer weaving through the crowd and then preparing to run past with a tray full of beer, Zoey stepped in front of her and forced her to stop.
With her shoulder-length jet black hair, black tights, and a dark floral baby doll dress, Zoey wasn't an imposing person, but she knew Megan didn't want to drop her tray. Megan had prominent cheekbones made more obvious by the tight ponytail that held her blonde hair with red streaks away from her face. She gave Zoey an impatient look as she waited for her to speak.
"There's a spill backstage," Zoey said.
After years of being club rats, one of them decided that working at their favorite hangout was the perfect job. They had both just graduated from high school and needed to work, so why wouldn't they want to work where they spent the bulk of their free time? Besides, Megan needed a job until she figured out what she was doing with her life, and Zoey wanted to save some money before going to college.
"And?" Megan said. "I cleaned up the last one. It's your turn. Besides, those losers look like they're going to spill beer all night long."
"No, I cleaned it the last time. And the time before that."
"I don't think so, Zoey. Rock, paper, scissors?"
They shook their fists and at the count of three, Zoey stuck two fingers out, making scissors. Megan kept her hand balled up into a fist.
"Fuck! Rock beats scissors. You always win," Zoey groaned.
"Try picking something other than scissors next time," Megan said, laughing. Voices echoed from down the hall followed by a loud crash. "I hate when people can't handle their alcohol. Seems to happen here a lot."
"You're talking to someone who can't even handle one drink."
"See, that's why you're perfect for mopping up the mess. You can't handle your alcohol, and neither can they."
Megan rolled a bucket with suspiciously brown water and a mop towards her. Pushing the bucket along the hall, Zoey glanced at the layers of concert posters pasted on the dark walls. Chili Peppers, Jane's Addiction, even Soundgarden. They were the reas
on she was there, not to mop floors for some wannabes that would never make it.
As her Doc Martens made sticking sounds across the floor, the next band on stage began playing what they called music. Wednesday nights were always the worst. Ever since word got out that some A&R people scouted the local clubs for new talent, their Pay For Play amateur night was mobbed.
Every band within driving distance would try to get one of the five Wednesday night slots. When the manager realized how in demand they were, he started charging the bands to play. Unfortunately, he also put aside any kind of vetting of the bands he was doing before.
Zoey tried to ignore the noise coming from the stage, but something didn't gel. Boom boom. Pausing for a second, she focused on the music and immediately regretted it and tuned them out again.
"Ugh, what a mess! And they're stupid enough to think this is going to get them somewhere," she mumbled to herself.
Boom boom. But there it was again. The something that didn't sound right. The band had their amps and monitors set way too high for the room, but that wasn't it. That was something all these bands did.
She felt it in her chest, like something trying to take over the steady rhythm of her heart. Boom boom. As she pushed the wheeled pail along, she detoured over to the stage entrance and looked out at the crowd. No one seemed to care about this band's poor excuse for music, but she was beginning to get curious.
"Zoey, come on! You know once it gets dry it’s even harder to mop up," Megan said as she walked past.
"I know, I know," she said as she maneuvered the pail back towards the backstage area the Wednesday night bands were allowed to use. "This really wasn't how I expected to spend my last summer before college."
"It was your idea!" Megan said, laughing.
Zoey preferred thinking no one was to blame. It was easier than accepting it was her fault she and Megan were working such shitty summer jobs. As much as she liked to complain about it, deep down Zoey believed she had the summer job of a lifetime. She was surrounded by music and hot men. Okay, maybe not always good music and eye candy on Wednesday nights, but definitely during the rest of the week.
Lucky: A Rockstar Romance Two Book Boxed Set Page 16
