by Cari Quinn
Beside him, Nick had his arms crossed over his middle, his face impassive. He must have been thinking back on their shitty decisions, as well.
But in the next segment she talked of “The Becoming” and their use of a string section to create an epic song experience for the soundtrack.
It had shot them to the top of the charts and had brought the EP into their lap. Once they’d gotten out from under Trident’s thumb, they’d found out that they were a great band in the studio.
Everything that had been a chore and a slog in Trident’s studio space had become magic and intimate with Ripper Records. Donovan Lewis understood what artists needed.
To an uncanny degree, to be honest.
Simon didn’t give two shits about how the guy knew, but he was grateful for it. By the time Music Life showed footage from their release party he was willing to buy an album.
She’d spun it so they seemed like the next Rolling Stones, for fuck’s sake. And her take on adding a violinist to the band made them sound like geniuses.
Kim’s huge bluebell eyes filled the screen. “In our last segment, we’re going to get a little insider information on how the band came to be.”
Simon turned to Nick and they both frowned. “Did you talk to her?”
Nick shook his head. “Not since the release party.”
He twisted in his chair. “You guys?”
Deacon, Gray, and Jazz all shook their heads.
Nick folded his hands behind his head. “I hope to shit they don’t talk to one of your road skanks, Simon.”
“Fuck off.” Simon swiped his hand over his face and glanced at Margo. She was sheet-white. “Hey. Are you all right?”
She tucked her hair behind her ear with trembling fingers. “I wish I’d known they were going to include me.”
Simon lowered his eyebrows. “Ashamed that you’re slumming it with a rock band, Violin Girl?”
“No, of course not. But now I’m going to have to do some explaining.”
“Mommy dearest doesn’t want to know that her daughter has any interests outside of chamber music.”
“Fuck off, Simon.”
He laughed without an ounce of humor. “I didn’t know you had such language living inside your head, let alone that it could come out of that mouth.”
“You don’t have to live with the repercussions of this.”
“You’re right. My old man hasn’t cared what I do since I was twelve.”
Margo’s mouth dropped open, but before she could say anything else, the commercials ended and the screen was filled with Snake’s face.
The entire pavilion went silent in shock.
“We’re here with William Scotsman, best known as Snake from the original lineup of Oblivion.”
“Would you prefer Snake or William?”
“Snake, definitely.”
“You were the original drummer for Oblivion, correct?”
“That’s right. Me and Nicky and Simon started the band when we were in high school then we added Deacon in a little later.”
“So why did you leave?”
“I didn’t.”
Kim sat forward in her chair. “They asked you to leave?”
“No. More like I was shoved out. I had some problems and had to go away to rehab, but we were always really tight. They were only supposed to get a temporary drummer for when I was away.”
“And did you feel betrayed?”
“Of course. That band had been our dream first and then that girl came in and ruined it all. She almost tore the band apart.”
“You’re talking about Jazz Edwards?”
“Yeah. She blindsided Nick.”
“What the fuck?” Nick sat up straight.
“Shhh,” Simon said. He was very interested in hearing just what kind of lies Snake was going to weave together.
He’d been one of his best friends for years, but the band had never been a priority for Snake. It had been a means to score dope and girls. When he’d come to see them during the Burn tour, that had been very apparent. He wanted them to go back to their club roots and never move on from that.
“That’s why a girl should never be in a band with dudes. When sex is involved, and it always is, there’s no checks and balances. The chick has all the power.”
“You do realize how sexist that sounds?”
Snake shrugged. “I speak truth. Jazz has two dudes in that band wrapped. She married one and got knock—”
“Okay, let’s change gears,” Kim interrupted.
Jazz clattered to her feet. “He’s going to start up all those rumors again.”
Simon turned around. “C’mon, Pix. We’ll rip him apart after.”
She sat down and leaned into Gray, a protective hand over her baby bump.
“When you got out of rehab, did they inform you of your place in the band?”
“My lack of one? Oh yeah. I got informed.”
“You sound bitter,” Kim said with that sweet voice that could get anyone to talk.
“I started that band. I helped write those songs. Songs they still sing.”
Nick sat up. “Bullshit.” He turned to Simon, his face pinched and red. “Fucking bullshit. We wrote all the songs.”
Simon searched the stage for Lila, but she was off to the side with a man in a suit. Simon stood for a better look as Snake ranted on their screen about the injustice and disloyalty of the band.
Lila was reading something on a clipboard and finally signed it before accepting the large white envelope.
“Are you just coming forward now because of Oblivion’s commercial success?”
Snake’s arms tensed on the chair arms in the interview. “I went to them during the last tour and was kindly turned away from the bassist, Deacon McCoy. And advised I was not wanted.”
“Was it true?”
“No. When I went backstage later that night, Nicky and Simon were thrilled to see me. I was excited to see my boys again. We partied up—”
“Even though you’d just been in rehab?” Kim asked.
“Nah, man. Not that kind of partied. Just some brews. I don’t touch the hard stuff anymore.”
“I’ve heard that alcohol is a slow slide back.”
“Unless you’ve ever had a needle sticking out of your arm, then you don’t know, lady.”
Simon heard the belligerent edge and now that he wasn’t seething, he watched how Snake’s gaze never landed on Kim. Just kept bouncing around the room.
“Fucker is using again.”
“Yeah he is,” Nick said darkly.
Simon’s gaze drifted to Lila again. She had papers out of the envelope and she was walking toward the side door with her phone.
That probably wasn’t good.
“Is there anything you want to say to the band that you haven’t gotten the opportunity to say?”
“Yeah.” Snake looked at the camera. “You made a huge mistake pushing me out of the band.”
Simon stood and went after Lila as Kim wrapped up the interview and tried to push some hard-hitting questions to the fans.
The only people that would ever have known about Snake were some club rats at the Blue Rhino. Christ, they’d barely gotten a blip of recognition before Gray and Jazz had been added to the group.
Nick caught up to him and grabbed his arm. “Where are you going? To get drunk again?”
“Fuck, no. Well, maybe later. What the fuck, man. Rats coming out to get their piece of cheese now that we have some status. Even when Snake did come out to the show, he was going on about club days, not the stuff we’ve been doing.”
“No. He wanted the good old days where he had to drum for forty minutes then booze the night away with whatever girls actually gave a shit enough to stay after the show.”
“Exactly.”
“So what? You just need to walk it off?”
“No. Someone came and gave something to Lila in the middle of that interview. I got a bad feeling, man.” Simon raked his hands through his ha
ir. “Really bad feeling.”
They got out the side door to find Lila pacing. “I don’t give a shit, Robert. I need to talk to Donovan. Unless he’s in with the President of the United States, he’s going to want to take this goddamn call.”
Simon’s eyebrows skyrocketed. Yeah. Not good.
“What the hell?” Nick asked under his breath.
“Yes, I’ll hold.” Her voice was part seething, part Dragon Lady. She looked over at them. “I have to talk to Donovan first. Why don’t you guys go back in?”
Simon crossed his arms. “We’re thinking that has something to do with that lovely broadcast.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It does, but I don’t want you to get bent out of shape unless it’s absolutely necessary. You have a show to worry about in two days.”
“What we’re making up in our heads is going to be far worse,” Nick said.
“Probably not.”
“Oh, honey, you don’t know what I can come up with.”
She held up a finger. “Yes, I’m here. Hi, Donovan.” She sighed. “You got one, too.” She made a noncommittal sound and resumed her pacing. “Is there any strength in the claim?”
“What claim?” Simon tipped his head back. “Oh, shit.”
“He wouldn’t.” Nick curled his fingers into fists. “That fuck. He’s never written a lyric in his goddamn life.”
Lila turned around to him and held her phone out. “Donovan, can you hear me?”
“Yes.” The British voice came across the speakers of her iPhone.
“Never?” she asked.
“No.” Nick raised his voice. “In the beginning, Simon and I wrote the songs and Deak did the composition at the end. Snake just showed up for skins. Even the one demo we did, I did the drums because he was too wrecked.”
Lila’s slim golden brow rose. “Good. That’s good.”
“I’ll have my lawyers look this over and contact you in a few hours.”
“Thanks, Donovan.”
“Guys? Don’t get riled up. This happens. The moment any artist gains momentum, there’s always someone in their past that tries to come up and make trouble. They always want their payday.”
“Jesus fuck,” Simon muttered.
“Accurately offensive,” Donovan said smoothly. “I’ll be in touch.”
Lila tucked her phone back into her blazer pocket. “Donovan’s right. We just have to get ahead of this.”
“Ahead of what exactly?”
“William—”
“Snake,” they both corrected.
She rolled her eyes. “How am I supposed to call anyone by that name?”
Nick shrugged. “Evidently there was good reason for the nickname.”
“Oh God.” Her nose wrinkled.
“Yes, that was yelled out a few times,” Simon said.
She rubbed two fingers between her brows. “Look, Snake is trying to get a payday on three of the songs that were recorded on the Burn EP.”
“He really is high,” Nick said, wonder in his voice.
“He probably doesn’t have a leg to stand on if what you say is true.”
“Of course it is,” Nick snapped.
She held up a hand. “Nicholas, please. I’m sure you’re correct, but when it comes to songs things can get tricky. Did you guys ever copyright your lyrics?”
“Lila, we could barely afford Spaghetti-O’s when we were first starting out.”
She nodded. “All right. Donovan is going to check into the claim and see if it has a chance in court. If so, we might have to settle—”
“No goddamn way,” Nick said. “He’s got no claim on our songs.”
“Singing a bit of a different tune now, aren’t you? Weren’t you the one that wanted Snake back in the band?”
“There’s a difference between loyalty and fact. We loved that idiot and he was our boy for a long damn time. But when he went away for mandatory rehab, things fell apart. I just didn’t want to see it then.”
“We didn’t want to see it,” Simon agreed. “We had no idea what a real band was until Gray and Jazz joined up.”
“Is that true?”
Simon and Nick both turned around at Jazz’s voice. Nick grunted as Jazz flew into his arms and knocked him back a step.
He sighed. “Yeah, Pix. You’re stuck with us.”
Jazz looped her arms around Nick’s waist and looked up at him. “Okay, you’re forgiven.”
“Forgiven for what?”
“For that bullshit you pulled last year. You’re forgiven.” Fat tears dripped down her cheeks.
“Aw, man. Don’t turn on the waterworks, Jazz.” Nick tried to step out of her hug, but she held on tighter and pressed her cheek to his chest.
Nick patted her arm helplessly, giving Simon a look of panic. Nicky hated pure emotion coming at him. He didn’t know what to do with it.
“All right, Pix,” Simon said. “Let’s get you back inside.”
“What’s going on?”
“Lila’s taking care of it.”
“That’s not an answer,” she said and stepped back from Nick.
“Snake’s trying to get money out of us.”
“No freaking way.”
“Not if we have anything to say about it,” Nick said.
Lila held out an arm. “Everybody back inside. I’ll tell everyone what I know.”
Simon followed everyone back in until he spotted Margo heading to the bus.
Margo hiked up the hill to the path that lead to the far side of the park. She needed to walk. It wasn’t like she’d specifically kept the news of her work with Oblivion a secret, but she definitely hadn’t gone around screaming it.
But a national news show? There was no hiding it now.
Her pocket vibrated, but she ignored it. She was definitely not prepared to talk to anyone. Being swept up into the fun and intensity of a summer tour was one thing, but actually having to explain that to her parents was another thing entirely.
And they didn’t even know about that. It was unspoken that she was staying on, but the minute she did the fan club show, it would be common knowledge.
If her parents wanted to know, they’d know.
Hell, Juliet was probably the one texting or calling her right now. She didn’t want to share this. Everything about this was just for her. From the unbelievable money to the tingles under her skin when she was up there with these people—that was just for her.
No one, not even her judgmental mother, could take that away.
“Violin Girl, wait up.”
She crossed her arms. “Not now, Simon.”
She definitely didn’t have it in her to figure out what was going on between her and Simon. Whenever she got near him, she lost her damn mind.
What had she been thinking yesterday? She’d seen just how wound up he was, how the alcohol had made him volatile.
And she’d gone after him.
And it had been amazing.
Her insides still throbbed and each move on stage reminded her just how hard he’d fucked her. There was no other word for what they’d done. The ache between her thighs was the proof.
And he’d been the one to walk away that time.
The intensity aside, she was still reeling from the loss of him. Because every other time had felt like she was connecting with someone for the first time, but that…
Against the bus had been animalistic and amazing, but had left her so empty.
She wasn’t sure what to do about the empty. That didn’t seem to fit what they were to each other.
“Damn long legs,” he muttered from behind her.
“What do you want? Looking for another angry bang?”
He caught her arm and turned her around. “You were the one who came at me for that one, sweetheart. I warned you that I was in no mood for anyone touching me, even you.” He drew her closer. “You were the one who pushed me.” His gaze dipped to her mouth then back to her eyes.
“So, what? A repeat perfo
rmance because of Snake?”
“No.” He let her go and stepped back. “Of course not. You seemed upset, so I was checking on you.” He held up his hands. “Heaven forbid we have a conversation that doesn’t surround us both coming our brains out. Fuck ya later, Violin Girl.” He made it halfway down the hill before she called his name. He turned back around, his silvery blue eyes blazing.
She stared at her ballerina flats. “I wasn’t expecting to be included in the special.”
He climbed the hill again until they were face-to-face. “Is that a problem?”
She shrugged. “Not exactly.” She blew out a shaky breath. “My parents aren’t exactly welcoming of anything that isn’t under their purview of acceptable projects.”
“And their baby girl working for a rock band is probably not under that purview.”
“No.”
“And you care about what they think that much?”
Did she? Or was it just easier to fall in line? The idea of examining that dynamic right now was too daunting.
He rubbed her arms then cupped her jaw to bring her eyes to his. “I don’t get the parent thing. I wish I did, but I don’t. My old man didn’t care. Unless I didn’t bring beer home to him at night. Then it was usually a belt to the ribs.”
Horrified, she unlocked her arms and laid a hand on his chest.
“Don’t feel sorry for me. It is what it is. He didn’t want to have anything to do with me so I got out. Music saved me, Margo.”
She pressed her cheek into his hand. It had saved her, too. Once upon a time, it had been Vivaldi and Beethoven to keep her happy and whole. But everything was changing now.
Collaborating with Deacon and Gray, and even Nick to a certain extent, had made music exciting again. The fact that she had a say in arrangements and changes to a song was heady.
She’d never allowed herself to think about composing, but now her head was full of it at all times.
“And if I’m reading that beautiful face correctly, this is what’s making you happy. We can’t live for our parents. Then everyone’s doomed to disappointment.”
“You’re pretty intuitive for a—”
His eyebrow winged up. “A…”
