by Nicole James
Sasha put her hand on Rayne’s shoulder. “Okay. Calm down. It’s just an upload on that website. It’s not on the radio or anything.”
“How could he do this?” Rayne was beyond pissed, but then she let out a huff of laughter. “And I’d thought about stopping in Grand Junction on the way back. Ha! Now the last thing I want to do is look that asshole up. Fuck him!”
“Rayne…” Jenna said softly.
“No, I have a right to be pissed. He lied to me about who he was! He stole my life story and turned it into a song, like I’m some sad pity case!”
“But…I don’t think he meant it that way. I think it’s a sweet song,” Carmen said quietly.
“He had no right, Carmen. No right to steal my life’s story, a story I told him in private and put it in a goddamn song.”
“Okay. Forget about him. Cuss him all you want, but don’t let him fuck up our trip. Fuck men! Come on, Rayne. We’re here to have fun. This is your time.”
“You’re right. Fuck him. Let’s go riding, girls.” She stormed off.
Sasha and Jenna watched her retreating back.
“I still say it was sweet,” Carmen said.
Sasha shook her head. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. We head back tomorrow. Let’s make the best of it. Deal?”
Jenna nodded. “Deal.”
Chapter Thirteen
Rory walked onto the band’s tour bus, and Tommy glanced up from his guitar.
“Well, look who’s back. How’d your date go?”
“It wasn’t a date.” Rory paused at the front of the bus and stared down at him.
“Then what was it?”
Rory studied Hamish and Gary sitting on the other couch. Then Lou walked on the bus behind him and stopped halfway up the stairs. “Guys.”
“Mr. Crawford,” Hamish stood. “We weren’t expecting you.”
Lou looked him up and down. “We’ve got another act lined up for the rest of the tour, boys. Nothing personal. You’ll all be paid on Monday. There’s a car waiting to take you to the airport. We’ll pay for your tickets home.”
“What the fuck?” Tommy growled.
“Well, that’s mighty nice of you. Surprised you’re not leaving us stranded,” Hamish snapped.
Lou shoved his lit cigar in his mouth, took a few puffs and blew them in Hamish’s face. “Get off my goddamn bus.”
Rory watched Lou stalk off the bus and back to the waiting car—the one he knew Lou would be waiting for him in. They had paperwork to sign.
“Asshole!” Hamish yelled, then kicked a hole in a drawer in the kitchen and ripped a cabinet door off the hinges, throwing it.
“Hey, man! Knock it off! I’m not paying for all your fucking damages!” Tommy yelled, shoving Hamish.
Rory turned and walked to his bunk, stuffing his shit in his duffle bag. He wanted off this bus before a fight broke out and hopefully without having to answer anymore questions. He grabbed his guitar and strode toward the front.
Tommy and Hamish were shoving each other, until Tommy’s eyes followed Rory. “Hey, where are you goin’?”
Rory stopped on the steps and looked back. “Home. I’m goin’ home.” Then he walked off the bus and walked to the waiting car. Thankfully it was parked behind the bus, so they couldn’t see it. As he opened the door and climbed in, he was relieved to see Tommy hadn’t followed after him.
Rory ran a hand over his jaw. Maybe he was being a chicken-shit, not coming clean to them about the offer he’d just been given, but he didn’t see any point in rubbing it in their faces. They’d find out soon enough.
The driver pulled away, and Rory turned his head from the tour bus to face whatever the future would bring.
***
Quarter past 11:00pm the next night, Rory parked his bike at the curb in front of Brothers Ink, unstrapped his guitar and duffle bag, and strode in the door. After he’d signed the necessary contracts with Lou, he’d caught the first flight to Denver, retrieved his bike at Jameson’s condominium, and driven straight home to Grand Junction.
Liam peered over from re-stocking the merchandise cabinet in the lobby. “What the hell are you doing here, bro?”
The shop had closed fifteen minutes ago. Rory glanced around, but saw only Max at his station, cleaning. “I’ve got big news. Is Jameson here?”
“He’s up in his office with Ava going over numbers.” Liam stood. “What’s the big news? You get kicked off the tour?”
“No. Come on.” He walked in and tapped Max on the shoulder. Max turned and pulled the ear buds out, startled.
“Hey, man. What are you doing here?”
Liam waggled his brows. “He has news.”
Max smiled. “Oooo, mysterious.”
They walked upstairs.
Jameson was studying his computer with Ava looking over his shoulder. He glanced up. “Rory? What the hell? You’re supposed to be on tour.”
“He has news,” Liam informed, plopping down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. Rory took the other, and Max leaned against a bookcase, his arms folded.
Ava straightened. “Is everything okay, Rory?”
“Yeah, great actually. Did any of you see the YouTube video?”
They all exchanged glances. Jameson spoke. “No, what video?”
“May I?” Rory reached for the laptop open on the desk in front of Jameson.
“Sure.” Jameson spun it toward him.
Rory’s fingers moved over the keys until he had the site and video pulled up. “This.”
They all leaned in as he hit play.
“Oh, my gosh, Rory! Look at that crowd.”
“Where was this?” Jameson asked.
“Charlotte’s concert in Denver Saturday night. She heard a song I’d just written and liked it, and that night she pulled me out on stage to preform it.”
“No shit,” Jameson said. “That’s awesome!”
“Shh,” Ava shushed them. “I’m trying to listen.”
They were quiet while the song played. When it ended, Ava looked at him. “Who’s this girl you wrote the song about?”
“When I left here I ended up having to stop near Vail due to the weather.”
“I told you, you brat,” Max didn’t hesitate to rub in the fact that he’d been right about the storm.
“Yeah, yeah, okay, you were right. Happy?”
“Yep.”
“Anyway, I got a room and walked into this nearby brewery to get something to eat and that’s where I met her. We actually sang karaoke together.”
“Seriously?”
“So, she knows about this song you wrote?” Ava nodded to the video.
“Well, no. I wrote it when I hit Denver.”
“But you’ve talked to her, right?”
He shook his head. “No. I lost her number.”
“Rory, this song… It’s so personal. Is it a true story, I mean about her brother?”
“Yes.”
“What do you know about her other than what you put in the song?”
“She lives in Denver. Her brother had a motorcycle shop and now it’s hers.”
“What’s it called?”
“I don’t know, but I need to find it.”
His brothers exchanged looks.
“Her and her girlfriends were on their way out to California for a couple weeks—a bike trip.”
“Wait a minute. How many girls?” Max asked.
“Four of them.”
“And they were on bikes, and she has lavender hair like the song said?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Some girls came in the shop last Friday. They were on motorcycles. I saw ‘em pull out. One of them had long hair that color.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, man. I did some ink on her.”
Rory surged to his feet. “Are you shitting me? Did she pay with a card?”
“Mmm. I can’t remember. But I did take a shot of her ink.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the photos.
“Here.”
Rory grabbed the phone from him and looked at the shot. It was Rayne all right. She was faced away from the camera, but her face was reflected in the mirror. “It’s her. I need to find her, even if I have to call every bike shop in the Denver area.”
“There are probably a lot,” Max said.
Rory nodded. “Yeah.”
“Hell, look at all those views!” Liam exclaimed, pointing to the YouTube page.
Rory nodded, grinning big. “It went viral.”
“That’s fantastic, brother.” Max patted his back.
“That’s not the best part,” Rory said, grinning. “Charlotte’s manager wants to manage me. He’s got recording time scheduled in an LA studio next week and—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jameson slowed him down, putting his hand up. “What about Convicted Chrome?”
“We were being replaced on the tour, then Lou heard me perform and saw the crowd’s reaction, and then it going viral—that was enough for him. Aren’t you happy for me?”
“Of course, Rory. It’s just happening so fast. So, this guy… He’s Charlotte Justice’s manager?”
“Yes, he’s an industry legend.”
“And he wants to spend time with a green rookie like you?”
“Truthfully, I don’t think he would waste his time except for the fact he happened to be there that night and saw it happen first hand.”
“So you’re going out to LA? When do you leave?”
“Well, I need to see if I can come up with three more songs of my own, otherwise Lou’s going to pick some from some other songwriters for me. I’d rather record my own.” Rory ran his hand through his hair. “I’ve got a week before I need to be out there. I thought maybe I’d hole up somewhere and try to write.”
Ava came around and gave him a hug. “I’m so happy for you, Rory. You’ve worked hard on your music. Are you going to include that other song I liked so much?”
“Yeah, definitely. Oh, and I forgot to mention. When I get back from LA I’ll be opening for Charlotte as a solo act.”
“What? Holy shit. Are you ready for that?” Liam asked.
“Yeah, I mean it’ll be a short set. I’ll have to work up a playlist, and Lou said he could get me some musicians to back me up. He’s got it all worked out.”
Jameson stood and came around the desk, pulling Rory in for a backslapping hug. “Happy for you, little brother.”
“Thanks. That means a lot to me.”
“You coming out to the farm tonight?” Max asked.
Rory gestured to the couch in Jameson’s office. “I was wondering if I could crash here. That way I could get some writing done with the place empty.”
Jameson nodded. “Yeah, sure. We were just heading home. Place is all yours. But first we need to toast to your exciting new future opportunities.” He walked to the sideboard that held a bottle of Irish whiskey and filled five glasses with an inch of the amber liquor.
The brothers all took one, and Jameson handed one to Ava. He lifted his glass. “To my little brother. He was an irritating little fucker when he was growing up, but he’s good with a guitar, has a decent voice and the girls seem to like his ugly mug”—he laughed—“all the makings of a rock star! Much success, Rory!”
Liam and Max smiled.
“Happy for you, brother,” Max said.
“You’re gonna be a huge star, Rory,” Liam said. “Just don’t forget us peons when you hit the big time.”
Rory chuckled. “I’ll try not to.”
They downed their drinks.
“Now get outta here. I’ve got an album to write.” Rory grinned.
***
The next afternoon, Ava hung up the phone at the front counter of Brothers Ink, practically jumping out of her skin.
Jameson walked up with a customer. He shook the man’s hand. “One more session, and we’ll be finished.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
After the guy left, Jameson eyed her. “What are you so excited about?”
“I found her—well, not her, but the shop!”
“What are you taking about? Her, who?”
“Rory’s muse; the girl from his song!”
“How’d you do that?”
“I called all over Denver. Do you know how many motorcycle shops and repair shops there are in the Denver area? Almost a hundred!”
“And you called them all?”
“Well, no. I hit the jackpot on number sixty-three.”
“You are unbelievable. Is that what you’ve been doing down here all morning?”
“Well, when I wasn’t waiting on people, yeah. Plus I had my sister working part of the list, too. Oh, that reminds me I need to call and tell her she can stop.”
Jameson chuckled at her. “Ya think?”
“Where’s Rory? I need to tell him.”
“He’s at the farm, writing. And no you’re not telling him.”
“What? Why not?”
“Babe, this is his big shot. He can’t go chasing some chick he spent one night with all the way to Denver. He’s got songs to write, and he’s only got a few days before he has to be in LA.”
“But Jameson—“
“I mean it, Ava. Not a word about this. I’m just looking out for him.”
Max walked up and folded his arms. “Jameson, he has a right to know.”
Jameson turned to him. “Are you eavesdropping? I’m talking to my wife.”
“Jamie, come on. She should tell him.”
“No, she shouldn’t. She does, he’ll drop everything and take off for Denver. You know he will. Then what happens? I’ll tell you what. He goes out to LA with no new material and they give him some songs that aren’t the right fit for him, that aren’t him at all, and he’s pissed at himself and resentful. Who does that serve? If this girl is important, he’ll find her himself, but it won’t be today or this week, understood?”
“You’re making a mistake.” Max shook his head and walked away.
Jameson looked back at Ava. “You with me on this?”
She nodded. “If you think it’s best.”
“I’m only thinking of his future.”
“So was I.”
“You think this girl is gonna end up being his one true love, babe, but you’re a romantic. She probably isn’t the one. What are the odds?”
Chapter Fourteen
September—
Rayne sat in the small office of Connor Motor Works, going over a parts order. She double-checked and submitted it. Leaning her head in her hand, she yawned. Computer work was enough to put her to sleep, something she didn’t seem to be getting enough of these days. She was always tired. Luckily it was almost closing time. She was so thankful that on Mondays and Tuesdays they closed up at 5:30pm rather than the 9:00pm they stayed open to on most nights.
Her eyes drifted shut. She’d just rest them for a moment before she started in on payroll.
“You look exhausted.”
Her eyes popped open and she glanced at the door, straightening. Charlie stood there, smiling. “Sorry. Computer work does it to me every time.”
“Why don’t you knock off and go on home for the day? We’ve only got another hour.”
“Can’t. If you want to get your paycheck Friday, I’ve got to get payroll submitted by five.”
“I’ll take care of it. I’ve done it before.”
“I know, but you have your own stuff to do.”
“Everything is done.”
“Are you sure, Charlie?”
“Go.”
She got up, stretching. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow. And thanks.”
“Anytime, beautiful.”
Ten minutes later, Rayne was in her car, stopped at a stop light, when a song came on the radio.
“This one is tearing up the charts,” the DJ said. “It’s called A Song for Rayne.”
A moment later, she heard the song she’d seen on YouTube. Only this time it was an actual studio r
ecording with backup musicians.
She covered her mouth. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God!”
Again she was struck by how personal the lyrics were.
Her heart pounded in her chest, and she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Was this what having a panic attack felt like? She tried to slow and deepen her breathing until she felt calm. Her eyes filled with tears and a moment later, they spilled down her cheeks. What the hell was wrong with her? It was just a song. Just a stupid, stupid song.
When the light changed, she turned at the corner and headed to Carmen’s house. She was the only one of her girl-pack Rayne knew would be home because Carmen cut hair out of a small salon she’d set up in her house.
Rayne drove across town and pulled in the driveway.
A moment later she was banging on the screen door. She spotted Carmen walking from the back of the house.
She opened the heavy glass door with a frown. “Rayne, what are you doing here? I thought the shop didn’t close until later.”
Rayne didn’t wait to be let in; she yanked the screen door open and ran down the hall toward the bathroom, barely making it in time before she vomited in the toilet.
Carmen appeared in the doorway. “Honey, are you okay?”
Rayne tried to nod, her head still suspended over the bowl, not sure if more wasn’t coming.
Carmen grabbed a washcloth, wet it, and handed it to her. “Here, sweetie.”
Rayne wiped her face and mouth and felt better. She plopped on the floor next to the toilet with her back to the wall and looked up at Carmen. “I think I’m pregnant.”
Carmen’s mouth fell open. “What?”
Rayne burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.
“Oh, baby,” Carmen whispered, sitting next to Rayne and pulling her into her arms. “It’s going to be okay. Everything will be fine. Don’t cry.”
Rayne dropped her hands from her face and pinned Carmen with her eyes. “How can you say that? Everything is not fine!”
“Why do you think you’re pregnant? Did you take a test?”
