by L. V. Lewis
Dylan rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not like that anymore. I’d never intentionally hurt a woman. Besides, Alyssa looks like she can handle herself.”
I ignore his request. The last thing I need is Sky angry at me for letting him get involved with someone she cares about. She already has a very short list of people she trusts, and I can’t say I blame her. In this business, everyone is always looking out for themselves first.
“Hate to admit it,” George says, “but that performance was pretty good.”
“Yeah,” says Finn. “You actually created something you can call your own. Can’t be mad at that. It’s just good to see you back on stage where you belong.”
“What the hell is this?” Stephen asks. “Some boy scout campfire bonding time? Are you all cowards or something?”
“Calm down, Stephen,” Dylan says. “We knew there were no guarantees he’d say yes to getting the band back together. Isn’t it enough to see our friend happy?” He tries to put a hand on Stephen’s shoulder, but he shakes it off.
“Happy? He didn’t seem to care about our happiness when he walked away from our band.”
I don’t like his tone one bit. The thrill from the concert is quickly being replaced by annoyance.
“I’m sorry,” I say with some bitterness. “I apologize that my shitty addiction and rehabilitation put off your music career.”
“Not just us, you asshole. We had dedicated fans who rushed out to buy our albums, no matter how much they cost. People who would stand out in cold rains just to hear us play. You owe them even more than us.”
He’s right. The fans probably saw me leaving as bad as giving them two middle fingers. That was never my intention.
“I bet your girlfriend’s fans would turn on you the first chance they got. Make it up to our true rock fans by coming back,” Stephen says. “Show them you still care and ditch this candy pop nonsense.”
“Really? You’re going to use our fans to guilt trip me into coming back?” I ask.
“Apparently, that’s the only way to get you to care about anything important.”
“Sorry, Stephen, but I’m not coming back to The Savages. Not now. Not ever.”
“I guess your girlfriend better be careful. Who knows when you’re going to leave her like you left us?”
Before I realize what my body is doing, I’m punching him and he punches back. It happens so fast that I really don’t have time to process it. We’ve exchanged several blows before our friends aren’t so paralyzed by surprise to separate us. All I feel are Dylan and George pulling us off one another, while Finn acts as a referee. It’s not long before Malik and a few other bodyguards interfere to break us up.
Malik stares at me. “Go to your dressing room. Now!” Just in case I don’t follow his command, another bodyguard walks me back, while others take the guys away.
At least when I get back to my dressing room, there are no new creepy messages waiting for me. In an odd way, I’d actually prefer it over arguing and then fighting with my ex band mates.
It’s not long before Malik and Sky are with me.
“Are you okay?” Sky asks me. “You’re not hurt are you?”
“I’m a little sore, but I’m not hurt.”
“Good. What the hell were you thinking, Brody?” She punches my arm. “Malik said you drew a good size audience who watched your little fight fest. Was it worth it?”
“I was defending you, so, yeah. It was more than worth it.”
Her anger at my antics subsides a little. “I don’t need you to defend me, Brody. I’m a big girl.”
I want to tell her it has nothing to do about age and more about standing up for the woman I love. Then my phone beeps on the counter. I grab it and glance at it. Anger rolls through me again, and I’m ready to really beat the crap out of Stephen for goading me into a fight in the age of social media.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“What the fuck is wrong now?” Malik asks.
I sigh out a breath to calm me before I respond. “I set my phone to notify me if new publicity comes out for Sky or me to help us do damage control.
“What does it say?” Sky asks.
“It’s probably better if I show you.” I hit play on the video that was just loaded up online.
We all watch as my argument with Stephen escalates and then the fight replays on my screen. The video headline reads, “Savage Saban Refuses Reunion and Fights Former Band Member after Skylar Concert in Chicago.”
“Shit,” Sky says. Her look is a cut to my heart because, in those eyes, I know she’s disappointed in me.
Yeah. That sums it up perfectly, and it’s all thanks to me.
The next few hours focus on public relations and damage control before we head off to Massachusetts. The video goes viral immediately. Everyone wants to weigh in, from local news stations and international rock magazines, to music bloggers and commenter trolls, all quick to toss out their views on me and my reasons for hitting Stephen.
I don’t like it, but I can take it. It’s Sky’s reputation that worries me. She doesn’t deserve any of this negative attention.
I hold back the information about the message in my dressing room from Sky and Malik. It seems like only one isolated incident of vandalism to that tour stop. No need to worry them about something that doesn’t seem to be a repeat occurrence. One problem at a time. Too much is bound to make us all go crazy before we can even get halfway through Sky’s world tour.
I am not sure what it’s going to take, but I’d do anything to fix the negativity thrown at Sky. I do what I do best. Make Skylar look great.
I immediately find another event for Sky to attend in Massachusetts upon our arrival. It’s not a charity fundraiser like before. This one is an electronic dance club to put Sky in the heart of her fan base. We all agree to let Sky go without me, because it’s going to be the best way for her to calm the shit storm I’ve gotten her into.
I put my manager hat on and go to work to make the public forget the incident. I send press lists to the radio stations in Massachusetts, so they see all the good Sky has to offer her fans and the communities she visits.
Over the next day or two, the magazines have a field day with me. Saban Finally Kills The Savages. Savage Saban Returns to His Wild Side. Skylar Releases the Violent Savage.
The worst part is that Stephen can press assault charges against me if he wants to, and I expect it. He was bitter right after Kim’s death, but I couldn’t blame him when I blamed myself, too. I didn’t see him after I was cleared of any wrongdoing, but I figured Stephen and his family were upset since they saw me as the reason for Kim getting addicted to drugs. I’m man enough to at least accept that responsibility.
I call my lawyer for counsel, and he says all we can do is wait for him to press charges or let it go. I fucking hate waiting. MMA helps with some of my impatience, but it’s still there gliding under the surface somewhere.
Sky has radio interviews to do, and her PR manager has assured us that all of them know not to ask her anything about the fight or viral video. If they do, she’s going to have “no comment” for every question.
I go with her to each interview just to make sure they don’t harass her. All of them stick to the allowed questions. Everyone except for Mad Dog Boomer. A New Englander through and through, he doesn’t hold back on anything. It’s why he has one of the highest rated satellite radio stations, despite his disregard for guests’ feelings. I didn’t want Sky on his show before the incident, and now I know if anyone is going to go off script, it’ll be his crazy rating-seeking ass.
I try to get Sky out of it, but she refuses. “I’ve dealt with people worse than Mad Dog, and they were worse because they hid their true nature,” she says. “At least he’s upfront about it.”
“I just don’t like it,” I say as we ride to the station.
“You mean you don’t trust me to handle myself,” she says. Sky looks more hurt by this than she did after seeing the video.
“You can’t always be there when someone comes after me, Brody. Sometimes I’m going to have to stand up for myself. You just have to put some faith in me.”
I know she’s right. I’ve seen her handle her business with more wisdom than people twice her age, but I can’t help the way I feel. Call it a hang up. I let Kim down, in so many ways, and I refuse to do that with Sky. I care about her too much to leave her without my support.
Mad Dog actually seems friendly when we meet him, but I’ve heard his show. He can turn into a rabid beast worse than his name when he’s looking for information.
“You’re all clear on the acceptable topics, right?” I ask him.
He shows a full-teeth smile, and I immediately don’t trust it.
“Absolutely,” he says. “Let’s get on air, Skylar. My listeners are eager to hear what you have to say.”
“Okay, great,” Sky says. She squeezes my hand, silently reminding me to have faith.
I have no problems having faith in her. It’s the leeches like Mad Dog I don’t like or trust.
The “On Air” sign lights up, and each second is like holding the longest breath ever.
“Welcome to the Mad Dog Boomer Hour,” Mad Dog shouts into the microphone. “We have music and pop sensation Skylar with us this morning. Say hi Skylar.”
“Hey, Boomerangs,” she says, referring to the name for Mad Dog’s fans. “Happy to be here.”
“Let’s get right into it.”
Skylar flashes her beautiful smile. “I’m ready when you are.”
They stay on topic and talk about her music and then the tour. Maybe this guy isn’t a threat.
Mad Dog’s toothy smile fills his face as they near the end of the segment. “So rumor has it your ex, Connor Weatherby, was into some freaky stuff in the bedroom. Is that true? Was golden boy a nutter in the sack?”
What. The. Fuck. That is definitely not on the list of things allowed. The idiot added new shit that has nothing to do with Skylar or the tour.
Skylar stills and Mad Dog takes that as a sign he might be mistaken, but he still puts his foot in it.
“Maybe I’m wrong here and you’re the freak in the sheets,” he says.
I try to run in there and pull her out, but Malik holds a hand up to me from inside the booth. He’s got to be joking if he thinks I’m going to let this jackass berate Sky on live radio.
Still, Malik holds a finger up. He’s been with Sky longer than I have, and knows what it takes to protect her. If I’m going to start trusting her to handle herself, I have to start with him, too.
Except for brief look of shock, Skylar recovers quickly. “I’m here to focus on the tour, Mad Dog. But since you brought it up, I’ll say this. What Connor does or doesn’t do in his bedroom is his business. So if he is a ‘nutter in the sack’ as you say, I think that question would be better asked of him. I mean, no one knows your true desires better than yourself, right? As for me, a lady never tells, Mad Dog. You know better than that, so you and everyone else out there listening will have to just keep guessing, won’t you?”
That woman is not only hot as hell, but she’s smart as a whip and snarky enough to dance with the big dogs. Literally. I even see a small smirk on Malik’s face to match mine.
Mad Dog goes quiet, probably shocked Sky didn’t lose her stride and yell at him like some guests have done. From what I hear, one or two have even tried to strangle him. I can relate.
One thing is certain. I will never doubt my woman in high pressured situations again. She’s a natural in interviews.
I trust her, but now I need answers. As soon as the sign goes out, I storm into the booth and head straight for Mad Dog. I don’t touch him, but I get close enough to invade his personal space. I refuse to leave until I get answers.
I take in Sky first to make sure she’s okay. Connor has been the worst sore spot for her, since the ass made her doubt herself in the bedroom. If I could have a face-to-face with that imbecile, I’d thank him, because he missed out on the best woman he could ever dream of being with, and now she’s all mine.
When I see Sky is the essence of calm, I turn back to her interrogator. “Where the fuck did that question come from?” I yell, and my voice bounces off the walls.
“Chill, man,” Mad Dog says. “You said to not ask about you, and I didn’t. I figured that question was safe since it was on the list.”
“That wasn’t on the list we gave you.”
“Not that list,” he says. “The other list.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I’m strongly considering rethinking my non-violent approach.
“The list I found in my mailbox this morning.” He hands me a different sheet of questions, things I’ve never seen before.
Everything on there shows questions that could potentially embarrass Sky in an interview, things about her sex life before me and what she thinks about other sexual things.
“We never sent you this list,” I tell him.
“Someone did,” Mad Dog says. “It was in an envelope with my name on it. Look, if you don’t want embarrassing questions asked, don’t send it to the media.” He walks out as if this is nothing new.
“Brody,” Sky says, “did you say anything to anyone about Connor?” she asks me. The vulnerability on her face nearly breaks me in two.
“Absolutely not, Sky. I’d never betray your confidence like that.”
“Then how would he know asking about sex with Connor would bother me?”
“I don’t think he did.” That’s when the message on my dressing room mirror comes back to me. Someone is trying to mess with me and Sky to sabotage her tour.
Nothing else makes sense. I realize I have to come clean now. Otherwise, things could escalate to a level that can’t be controlled.
“We need to talk,” I tell Sky and Malik. I wait until we’re in the car to tell them about the weird message.
“Why did you keep this from me?” Sky asks.
“I’m sorry,” I say, squeezing her hand. “I didn’t want to burden you with it. This tour has been taking its toll on you already. I didn’t want to add to it.”
“What did I say before about trust?” she asks me.
“I deserve that,” I admit. “You have to work with me here, Sky. For a long time, I’ve pretty much depended on myself. It’s going to take me time to deal with my overprotectiveness and what I share.”
“Telling me the truth won’t hurt me. It’s the secrets that will.”
I nod, not knowing what else to say.
“Good. If you keep something like this from me again, we’re going to have a longer talk than this one.”
“I count on it,” I say and kiss her. What did I ever do to get such an amazing person in my life?
“I should have known, too,” Malik says. “It could have been something to put Sky at risk. That shit gets people killed.”
“Which is why I’m coming clean about it. I’m with you on this. I don’t want anything to happen to her. We need to figure out who’s doing this, and we need to figure it out as soon as we can before they try something else.”
Malik nods. Even though he’s quiet, I can tell he’s thinking. Whatever’s going on, we’re going to get to the bottom of it before it touches Sky again. We have to.
If anything happens to her, I know I’m going to lose it. I’ll pummel first and ask questions later. I refuse to see Sky hurt. In such a short time, this woman has become a large part of who I am. I didn’t exist before her. Not really. Although a part of me will always love Kim, I can’t continue to mourn the ghost of a girl I once loved. This woman in my life now means more to me in the short time we’ve been together than anyone.
I have to get through whatever is trying to put a rift between us because I refuse to go back to the person I was before Sky.
Eight
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
BRODY
It’s Sky wh
o suggests I still perform with her in Philadelphia. I don’t want to make anything worse for her, but something in my gut says it’s a bad idea.
I skipped playing with her in Foxborough to talk with Malik about tightening security and monitoring all mail and packages that come to anyone on staff. There is no way anything should get past us with the new protective measures in place.
Sky teases that when Malik and I get out heads together, we’re worse than the secret service. I’ll take the teasing if every decision ensures she’s out of harm’s way.
I’m fine being the dutiful manager, because I have control in that. As much as I love being on stage with her, my head isn’t in it. It’s in full crisis aversion mode.
Skylar isn’t taking no for an answer, so I give in. Confidence on her is hot, and I refuse to let her go back to anything else.
When I perform, every night is a wild card. But when Sky pleads with me, I know I can’t let her down any more than I already have. Maybe this will ease some of the worry I know is plaguing her.
I wait back stage for my cue. I try to readjust my guitar, but no matter how I position it, everything feels wrong.
“Fight through it,” I say to myself. “She needs you.”
When Skylar introduces me, I step out to play the opening to “Masquerade.” All seems fine, even though there are no signs displayed for me or anyone chanting my name this time.
I block out everything and focus on playing the song, but my fingers feel like lead. It’s hard to pluck at the strings and hold the notes.
Playing comes easy to me. It always has, but tonight it feels like a challenge I can’t comprehend or win. The notes are off-key even though Sky tries to sing through it. There is no way I can join her in song when I can’t get the keys right.
That’s when the booing begins. It takes one person to start it and it rolls through the stadium. The sea of welcoming faces has turned into hostile territory.
“Thank you, Philadelphia,” Sky calls. She turns her back to the stage and signals the stagehand to cut the stage lights.
