Brothers Ink Tattoo (Complete Box Set #1-4)

by Nicole James

“I like it better slow,” Lou stated.

  “Yes, sir. The band changed it quite a bit.”

  Lou chewed on his cigar. “Uh huh. You still got rights to the original version?”

  “Yes, sir. I still have songwriting rights to all my songs.”

  “Good. How many songs we talking about?”

  Rory frowned. “I, ah, I guess around a dozen.”

  “They any good. Besides those two?”

  Rory shrugged. “Depends who you ask.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  Rory’s eyes shifted to Charlotte and back. “You mean for Ms. Justice to perform?”

  “No, for you to perform. Are they good or are they crap?”

  “I like about four of ‘em.”

  “Four, huh?” He nodded and looked to Charlotte. Then he stood, so Rory stood as well. He held out his hand and shook Rory’s. “Nice meeting you, kid. Maybe we’ll talk again.”

  With that cryptic remark he walked out, and Rory looked at Charlotte. “What was that about?”

  She grinned. “He’s a hard man to like, but he’s good at what he does. If I had my guess, he’s thinking about offering to take you on, but he hasn’t made up his mind yet.”

  “And that stuff about the number of songs?”

  “Seven’s the magic number. You should know that, Rory. You typically need seven for an album.”

  Rory’s brows shot up. “Is he talking about recording me?”

  Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t know. But if the opportunity strikes, you’ve got to be ready.”

  “It was awesome you gave me that chance, but—“

  “Your song was good, Rory. The audience seemed to like it. I’d keep an eye on social media tonight. You never know with these things. Sometimes something magical happens, and the social media Gods sprinkle their mystic fairy dust on you and boom!”

  Rory chuckled. “Boom?”

  “Yep. Boom, you’re suddenly the hottest thing since Michael Jackson moonwalked across the stage for the Motown 25th Anniversary Party.”

  “Right.”

  “Do you doubt the great and powerful Oz?” she teased.

  “You gonna find me a brain or a heart oh powerful one?”

  She waggled her eyebrows. “Maybe a pot of gold.”

  Chapter Eleven

  That night the tour buses headed out for Houston. Charlotte was playing two shows at the Arena and was checking into the Four Seasons Hotel. Convicted Chrome stayed on their tour bus—a trashed out used model that had already been through three other bands. It followed third in line behind the one Ms. Justice had to herself, and the one that carried her band. Behind the three tour buses came two semi-tractor trucks filled with equipment.

  The next afternoon, Rory was on the tour bus with the guys. He sat on one of the couches with Tommy, facing Hamish and Gary on the other side.

  He was distracted, his fingers moving over the strings trying to come up with a new rift. Hamish and Gary were arguing about tempo, and Tommy was smoking a joint.

  As he stared at the floor and worked on that rift, Rory couldn’t help but relive playing on stage last night. The guys in the band had already headed back to the tour bus and had no clue what had occurred. They’d been too busy fucking three girls who had just been kicked off the bus an hour ago.

  Rory remembered what Charlotte had said about watching social media. She’d posted a selfie on Instagram that she’d taken of the two of them on stage with the crowd in the background toward the end of the night. It had been a great shot, and with it she’d posted: On stage with this amazing guy—Rory O’Rourke. The audience loved the song he performed. Check it out!

  Then she’d posted a link to one of the videos someone had put up on YouTube of him performing.

  He’d checked the post about an hour after she’d put it up, and it had over ten thousand likes and over eight thousand comments. He couldn’t believe it.

  It had been amazing meeting the legendary Lou Crawford, too.

  Rory only wished he’d had more material ready when the man had asked him how many songs he’d written. He may have blown his chances right then.

  Charlotte was right when she’d reminded him it was all about being ready when opportunity knocked, and so last night he’d stayed up late in his bunk, scribbling lyrics down on paper. It’d been hard to concentrate with all the sex going on in the back of the bus where Hamish, being lead singer, had claimed the big king bed.

  Tommy and Gary were up on the sofas getting it on with two chicks. Not that Rory didn’t occasionally partake of the female groupies, but since he’d met Rayne, he’d mostly stayed to himself and wrote.

  Tommy bumped his shoulder with a hand that held the joint.

  “No thanks, man,” Rory said.

  There was a pounding on the bus door, and Tommy got up and hit the switch to open it. A man in a suit climbed up two steps and peered in. He had a small name badge. “Which one of you is Rory?”

  “That’s me,” Rory said with a frown.

  “Sir, I’m Jackson with the Four Seasons Hotel. Ms. Justice sent a car. She’d like you to join her for lunch.”

  Rory set his guitar aside. “Me? When?”

  “Now.” The man waved his hand in front of his face and gave Tommy and his joint a dirty look, then his eyes ran over Rory in his t-shirt and jeans. “May I suggest possibly a collared shirt, sir? One that doesn’t reek of marijuana.”

  “Fuck off,” Tommy said. “This is primo shit, and we’re on our bus.”

  “Shut up, Tommy,” Rory growled and dug out his one white dress shirt. He wore it with his big cross and bracelets, his jeans and biker boots. There was no denying he was a musician, and he didn’t want to pretend otherwise, but Charlotte was at the Four Seasons, after all, and there was something to be said for having some class. At the last second, he decided to shrug into his black velvet blazer.

  Hamish stopped him with a hand on his bicep. “What’s this all about?”

  Rory pulled his arm free. “I don’t know.”

  “Why weren’t we invited?”

  “I’ll ask her. Maybe she doesn’t like your cologne.”

  Tommy chuckled. “Hell, nobody does.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Hamish snapped.

  “Sir, the car is waiting,” Jackson prodded.

  Rory followed the man off the bus that was parked behind the Arena and into the waiting black Mercedes.

  “Nice wheels,” Rory remarked. “Whose car?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s available for the use of our special guests.”

  “Charlotte is certainly that,” he murmured.

  “Yes, sir. She’s a very special guest. We also have Devon Dreads staying with us. He’s doing two shows at the stadium. There’ve been some complaints of the smell of marijuana on his floor. I hope that won’t be a problem with your band.” Jackson looked over at him with a grin.

  “You won’t have any problems with me, and my band won’t be invited up so you shouldn’t have to worry. I’m the only one of the bunch who’s house-broken.” He grinned, and Jackson chuckled.

  They drove the three blocks to the hotel. Rory stayed silent, his mind going a mile a minute.

  They soon pulled up at the entrance. One of the doormen dressed in suit pants, white shirt and vest, complete with cowboy hat greeted them and valeted the car.

  “This way, sir.” Rory followed Jackson.

  “Good afternoon,” another doorman greeted Rory, holding the door open as they entered.

  The hotel was stunning. They walked through the gorgeous lobby and around a corner to a bank of elevators. Jackson swiped his card and took them up to the nineteenth floor. They exited and turned a corner. He pressed a doorbell next to #1904. Rory had never seen a hotel room with a doorbell. Wow. This place was something else.

  One of her assistants answered the door, and Jackson stepped back. “Please tell Ms. Justice if there is anything else she needs, don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Thank you,”
the woman said, then she turned to Rory. “Are you Rory O’Rourke?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Come in. I’m Miranda, Charlotte’s PA.”

  “PA?”

  “Personal assistant. She’s waiting for you.”

  He moved into the suite. There was a parlor with a seating area, a dining area, and another room around a wall. The suite was graciously appointed and the table was set for lunch: plates with silver covers, wine glasses, and a chilling bottle.

  Charlotte walked out of the other room.

  “Hello, Rory.” She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, taking both his hands in hers.

  “Charlotte. What’s the occasion? Not that I’m not thrilled with the invitation.”

  She moved toward the table. “Come.” She lifted the open bottle and poured them each a glass, handing him one. She lifted hers in a toast. “We’re celebrating.”

  “What are we celebrating?”

  “Have you not seen YouTube? Your song went viral!”

  “What? Are you kidding me?”

  “It’s true!”

  “Oh, my God!”

  She pulled out her phone and showed him. “Look! People love it. Look at the comments.”

  Miranda approached. “Charlotte, I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

  “Of course. Thank you, Miranda.”

  When she’d left, Charlotte gestured to the chair. “Please, sit. Let’s eat.”

  They sat and ate a nice lunch. Charlotte chatted about the tour and asked Rory about growing up in Grand Junction. After about twenty minutes, a knock sounded at the door.

  Charlotte pushed her chair back. “Excuse me.”

  Rory turned, his eyes following her to the door. She pulled it open, and Lou Crawford walked in, an unlit cigar in his hand. “He here?”

  “Yes, Lou, we’re over at the dining table.”

  Lou glanced over and grunted as he shuffled that way.

  Rory was surprised to see him, but Charlotte didn’t seem so. Rory stood, extending his hand. “Mr. Crawford.”

  Lou jammed the cigar in his mouth and shook it. “Kid.” He sat in one of the empty chairs.

  “Would you like a glass of wine, Lou?” Charlotte offered, but he waved his hand.

  “No, thanks, honey.” He looked at Rory and jerked his head toward Charlotte. “Did she tell you?”

  Rory sat, turning his chair toward Lou, and glanced at Charlotte. “Tell me what?”

  “Your song, kid. You’ve gone viral. People are loving it.”

  Rory grinned. “Yes, she told me. I can’t believe it. I mean, it was just last night.”

  “If shit’s gonna take off like that, it does well in the first hour. Her post did very well in the first hour, and now the upload of you on stage has close to a million views.”

  Rory ran a hand over his beard. “They did seem to like the song last night.”

  “Kid, they’re loving it. That’s why I’m here. Got an offer for you, but I’m gonna need your answer today. Like now.”

  Again Rory’s eyes shifted between them. Charlotte was smiling so maybe it was a good offer. He looked back at Lou. “What’s that?”

  “Have you heard of Axel Rod?”

  “Sure, of course. Who hasn’t?”

  “He OD’d the other night.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard. Is he okay?”

  Lou waved the hand holding the cigar in the air. “Doesn’t matter. The point is, we had studio time in LA scheduled for him. Expensive studio time, and now he can’t use it. So, I was thinking, maybe we could slip you into his spot.”

  “Me?”

  Lou nodded. “Yep. You think you’re up for it?”

  Rory pulled his head to the side. “What about Convicted Chrome?”

  “This is just you, kid. No band.”

  “You mean just drop out in the middle of Charlotte’s tour?” His eyes shifted to where she stood just over Lou’s shoulder. “But we’re the opening act.”

  Lou twisted and looked at her. “You didn’t tell him?”

  She shook her head slightly.

  Lou let out a sigh. “Look, kid, we were going to dump Convicted Chrome after Houston anyway. The next leg of the tour we were replacing you with Zealot Chariots.”

  “Really? Why is that?”

  “It’s nothing personal. Zealot has a bigger following on the East Coast and their lead singer is twice the singer Hamish is.”

  “I see.”

  “But, that changes if we get you in the studio, get this song out on digital. Work up some more songs, get an album out, then forget Zealot.” He jabbed a finger toward Rory. “You open for Justice as a solo, and we sell a ton of your albums.”

  Rory ran a hand down his beard. “I don’t know. I’ve been with those guys a long time.”

  “They’re stifling you, Rory,” Charlotte said. “Look, I know it’s hard to cut ties, especially this suddenly, but you were going nowhere with that band. You’re a lead singer. You can’t let them hold you back.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want success. I do. I just hate to fuck them over like this.”

  “Rory.” Charlotte moved to him. “Opportunities like this are once in a lifetime. You have to strike while the iron is hot….or however that saying goes.” She grinned at him. “It’s your time; this is your shot. Take it.”

  His eyes shifted to Lou.

  “What’s it gonna be, kid? You in or out?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Rayne sat at a table inside the campground and RV Park. Prior to the women’s Moto-event, the park had been the site of a music festival, and they’d built a Burning Man-esque village that was now transformed with bohemian flare, the way only women can, complete with oriental carpets, couches, and gourmet food trucks.

  Sasha sat down next to her with a plate of food. She bit into her sandwich. “Oh, my God. I’m in heaven! This is sooo good.”

  “What did you get?”

  “Some kind of grilled goat cheese, arugula and fig creation that is pure taste-bud bliss!”

  Rayne smiled and felt her sunburned face tighten. They were under some sun sails, but they’d been in the sun a lot the past few days, and even 50block couldn’t keep up. She sipped on her water.

  They’d gotten back about a half hour ago from a group ride that had taken them on some awesome twisty roads with plenty of stops to take amazing photos.

  They’d rolled in last night and set up their small domed-shaped tents just as dusk was falling. Rayne had stared up in awe at the starry night sky that stretched on forever, and she’d whispered, “I did it Daniel, I made the trip. I’m here. And you were right—it’s been so worth it.”

  Carmen walked up with her food, a limp in her gate.

  “You okay, babe?” Rayne asked.

  “Yeah. Just stiff. Barely slept last night. Forgot my damn sleeping mat.”

  “That sucks.” Rayne was so glad she’d packed hers; the ground was indeed hard and rocky.

  Jenna joined them, setting two plates of food down and pushing one in front of Rayne. “Here, I got you a sandwich.”

  “That’s so sweet. I’m starved.”

  “You can stand in line for dinner.”

  “Deal.”

  “That ride was amazing, huh, girls?” Sasha asked, standing behind their chairs and sipping on a bottle of ice-cold water.

  “It was. Last night was fabulous, too. All those stars in the sky—it was stunning.”

  Rayne checked her phone for any texts or missed calls, thankful that the campground had free Wi-Fi and cell service.

  Sasha glanced down, noticing. “Still haven’t heard from him?”

  Rayne shook her head. “It’s no big deal.”

  “Yeah, it is, honey. He was so into you. I can’t believe he hasn’t called or texted you yet,” Carmen said.

  “It’s only been a few days. Cut the guy some slack,” Jenna said.

  Sasha’s phone chimed with an incoming text, and she pulled it out o
f her back pocket, swiping it open.

  “Who is it?” Jenna twisted to ask.

  “Ellie.” Sasha continued reading, a frown forming on her face.

  “Sasha, babe, you gonna eat? I’ll share my sandwich with you if you want,” Carmen offered.

  “Hang on.” She stared down at her phone. “Oh, my God.”

  “What is it?” Rayne glanced back.

  “Yeah, you’re freaking us out. What’d Ellie say?” Carmen asked.

  “She was at the Charlotte Justice concert in Denver and Charlotte brought this guy out on stage to perform a song. She thinks the song was about Rayne.”

  “Me?” Rayne frowned. “That’s insane. How could it be about me?”

  “She said it’s about a girl named Rayne with lavender hair and a dying brother named Daniel.”

  “What?” Rayne’s brows shot up.

  “Hang on, she says its on YouTube. She’s sending me the link.” Sasha pulled out a chair and sat between Rayne and Jenna. Carmen crowded in, and they all watched the video load.

  Rayne sucked in a breath when she saw the man with the guitar. “Oh, my God. That’s Rory.” She watched as he leaned into the microphone and said it was called, A Song for Rayne.

  The girls all looked at each other, then they focused in on the performance.

  When it ended, Rayne stared in shock. “How could he do that? How could he take my life and put it in a song?”

  “But it’s a sweet song, Rayne,” Carmen defended.

  Tears blurred Rayne’s eyes as she looked at her and snapped, “He stole my life and made a song out of it! All my pain and fear… How is that sweet?” she shrieked.

  “Did you talk to him about Daniel?” Sasha asked with a frown.

  “I—yes, I guess so, that night, we talked about a lot of stuff. I never thought… Hell, I didn’t even know he was a singer. He said he was a tattoo artist.”

  “Maybe he didn’t want you to like him because he was famous,” Carmen suggested.

  “Yeah, these comments say he’s the guitarist for Convicted Chrome,” Jenna added.

  Rayne sucked in a breath. “Oh, my God. That’s why those people recognized him! That night, in the bar, some guy approached us and asked if he was Rory from Convicted Chrome. When I asked him about it, he told me it was an auto body shop! What else did he lie about? God, I was such a fool. And now everyone is going to hear that song about my personal private life!”