by Quinn, Cari
“Ladies, thanks so much for coming in.” Her lemon-blond hair was scraped up into a messy bun, with one pair of glasses on her head and another on her face.
“Hey, Casey.” Her name slipped right out of my mouth. We’d done the rounds enough in Chicago that I knew most of the producers.
“Hey, you brought your instruments. Shay will be thrilled.”
Jamie rocked back on her heels, snapping her gum, her sunglasses still on. Casey gave her a nervous smile and Jamie gave her a shark-like one in return. My best friend loved to make people uncomfortable.
“Right this way. We’re all set up for you.”
“Perfect. Thanks so much for having us.”
“Of course. We’re doing an auction for the King Foundation, would you two be interested in signing anything?”
“Sure. Anything for Logan.” I gave her a softer smile to make up for Jamie’s toothy one.
Casey’s eyes lit. “Thanks so much. I’ll set some stuff up in the conference room for after your interview.” She led us into a larger room than we normally visited. “We have a new podcasting room, so you guys will have some space to move. Trident Media bought out the station, so they’re upgrading everything.”
I frowned at that name. It kept coming up lately.
Our band had been with Ripper Records since the beginning of our career. There had been various labels who’d tried to steal us away, but loyalty was important to me. Sometimes prettier numbers in the contract didn’t actually reflect reality in the long run. Especially when it came to rights to our own songs. Trident was one of the juggernauts in the entertainment industry. Evidently, not just in music anymore. Or they liked controlling the music with radio too.
I hated to think that way, but it was getting harder and harder not to these days.
“Can’t say my butt will miss those little stools,” I said with an easy laugh as I spotted the huge couch with two microphones set up for us. Definitely didn’t pay to let people see me sweat.
Jamie didn’t waste any time rushing to the sunken couch across from a rounded desk with half a dozen monitors. The chairs were empty right now, but I spotted Shay through the skinny window in the door on the opposite side of the room.
She had her hand on the doorknob, but she was talking to someone in the hallway. Then she disappeared.
Casey’s eyebrows were pinched when I turned back to her. Just as quickly, she smoothed out her expression and smiled. “Why don’t you guys get settled and I’ll see what’s keeping my morning crew?”
“Sure.”
“Where’s the fire?” Jamie asked when I got to the couch.
“Not sure. Hopefully, Bobby won’t be coming in wearing a chicken suit or something again.”
“He was probably naked under the suit.” Jamie wiggled her fingers and sneered. “Perv.”
“I can’t unsee that, Jame.”
She shrugged and started tuning her blue Breedlove acoustic.
I took out my own acoustic. The ancient Taylor had been with me since I’d written my first song. Jamie had dozens of guitars. Me? I just had this one. It was a tattoo of my life. Brooklyn’s skyline had been sketched on the back, and the notes to my first song were etched along the waterline. Most people didn’t know they were there, or assumed they were something else.
But I knew. This was my own little canvas of memories.
I wrote with my piano most often, but when I needed a friend in the dark, it was this guitar. The familiar calluses on my fingertips found the grooves from the strings. And because it was just Jamie and I, the songs flowed like water. Covers for now because we played our own so much that it felt good to play others.
To wrap ourselves in the memories of music that had saved us both.
Me from stoic parents who didn’t know the meaning of the word passion. Jamie from a household full of too much violence and hate.
Both of us changed forever by what we’d turned to out of desperation and love.
My fingers ached with the need to chase Jamie’s faster fretwork. The simple Frank Turner song became more complex and layered with both of us playing.
It was a good song to warm up my voice. The lower registers and moving story full of tumbling lyrics loosened my tongue. Moody and real, his songs were the perfect addition to our repertoire because they were alternately fun or dark, depending on what we needed.
Jamie actually pulled ahead on the next verse and I let her. She so rarely sang, although her voice was rich enough to be lead if she wanted to. But she never did. She lost herself to the guitar and didn’t want to be bothered most of the time.
We sang together for the joy of it and didn’t notice we had an audience.
Usually, we started a song and slipped into several different ones like an impatient hand on the dial of a radio. Never content to stick with one. Wanting to play everything at once.
We were head to head, her dark hair flowing forward as she poured herself into the song. Both of us laughing at the end, breathless with it.
Applause made me look up. There were a dozen people in the room now. They’d eased inside, lured by our guitars and lyrics.
“Tell me you got that,” Casey said from the back.
“Every note,” said a male voice.
Jamie grinned at me. “I mean, now we gotta keep going.”
Casey twirled her finger in the air and two people left the room. “I don’t know what that song was, but wow. I’m pushing up one of our other guests if you want to keep going.”
I shook my head. A radio producer who didn’t know her songs should be shot. Before I could open my mouth, Jamie spat out the name of the song.
“‘I Am Disappeared’ by the one and only Frank Turner.”
Casey lunged for a notebook.
“Shall we go with that chick we really like next?”
“Dorothy?”
“Dude.” Jamie slapped her hand against the body of her guitar as I did my best to dirty up the sound coming out of my acoustic. “Raise Hell” was a new addition to our jam songs. Quick and perfect for a singalong. The people in attendance were clapping along within the first beat.
Jamie’s growling voice was made for the super short song. We transitioned into “Bad Reputation” by Joan Jett, laughing more than singing as we tumbled over the lyrics.
Jamie didn’t have her electric, but it didn’t matter. She could make an acoustic sound just as dangerous as her Warlock.
Finally, she hung her arm over her guitar and looked up. “Does this mean we can go home? We totally gave them a free concert.”
Dark curls flying behind her, Shay came running around the desk to the stairs that led down to the lounge area. “No, no. We’re ready for you.”
I pressed my lips together against a laugh.
She shoved her headphones over her ears and waved to Bobby, who was sitting up at the desk typing furiously on his keyboard. His booming morning voice filled the room as he rattled off call letters and the name of the morning show.
Jamie lightly strummed her guitar to an old Eagles song while we waited for our turn to talk.
Shay collapsed onto the couch between us. “You guys are amazing. Are those songs just in your head all the time?”
I nodded to Jamie. “She’s the jukebox. Give her enough whiskey and she’ll play until dawn.”
Jamie leaned down for her bottle of water and took a sip. “I can do it sober too. But Lindz can keep up with me even without her wine.”
I shrugged and hummed, “One of These Nights” to Jamie’s strumming.
“Is this what we’ll hear tonight at United Center?” Bobby asked.
I leaned into my mic. “We tend to do a cover song or two, but our own catalog is pretty extensive. Packs a two-hour show pretty quick.”
“How has it been with two female lead singers touring together? Wet T-shirt contests? Hair pulling? Give us the dirt.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Molly McIntire has been a gem. We all get along really
well.” Too well based on the hangover I was still feeling even after our greasy breakfast.
Not that the hangover was Molly’s fault. I wasn’t even sure who had first pushed a drink into my hand. We’d all partied together at different times of the night.
“That’s no fun,” Bobby muttered.
“We don’t need that kind of dirt when we have it on good authority you are heading up a star-studded cast of artists for Logan King’s new Christmas album.”
My smile slid away. “Not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, really?” Shay turned toward me. “I heard you had to bail out the ever-testy Alexander Nash and Logan King because of an overdose.”
“Excuse me?” I moved away from her until I perched on the edge of the couch.
That soundbite made it seem like Nash was the one who’d overdosed. Probably exactly the point.
Shay chuckled. “We’re all friends here. You can give us the skinny.”
Ugh. “Logan and Nash are beyond professional.”
“Oh, right. Sorry, not the gentleman, but another artist. Angel Martin has been the lead of that project for months. Now all of a sudden it’s radio—pardon the pun—silence. And Angel Martin’s people haven’t been returning phone calls.”
Shit.
I hadn’t been prepared for an ambush. Logan and Nash hadn’t even given me talking points about the album, let alone about Angel.
“I can’t speak for Angel. As for Logan’s project, I almost always do a song for the holiday album. Why would this year be any different?”
“You said before that you weren’t doing it this year,” Bobby chimed in.
For once, they’d actually researched? What the flying fuck? “Well, we had a week off for a wedding in Warning Sign’s band.” I forced myself to keep my voice light. To inject a smile into the discussion. Most importantly, to steer them away from shit I didn’t want to talk about.
Jamie laughed. “You should have seen all of us piling onto Donovan Lewis’s jet—you know, the billionaire hottie who’s kinda technically our boss…” She bared her teeth in a menacing smile.
All I needed to do was to give her a signal and she’d go for the jugular. I gave her a little shake of my head and Jamie infused her voice with a level of sweetness I knew would probably kill her.
Jamie leaned down to tuck her acoustic back into her case. “So, yeah, we headed to the tropics. I’m always up for staying on tour, but dump me on a sandy beach with hottie Hawaiian dudes and I’m here for it. Wasn’t a hardship to have a little downtime with pineapple drinks.”
“So, that’s when you went to New York instead?” Shay’s usual day host friendliness was missing. Her eyes were as dark and dangerous as a shark’s. Was she angling for a new goddamn job?
“Not like you to chase gossip, Shay.”
“Is it gossip though?”
“I went to the wedding, then I spent some time in New York recording a song for charity. You know, the King Foundation that we were more than happy to help for the auction you have coming up.”
I could play the game faster and better than this chick, that was for certain.
The light in Shay’s eyes dimmed.
“How’s third row to our show tonight?” I could have gone with first, but that was harder to procure from Darcy. She would already be on my ass after this interview. “I’m sure we can raise some great money for the kids right here and right now. Even some backstage passes.”
Casey slipped in the room and gave Shay the high sign to shut her damn mouth.
“Of course. That’s very generous of you.”
“Animals and kids always get a helping hand from Brooklyn Dawn.” When three people left the room, I knew I’d dodged a bullet this time.
The tone of the interview went straight to fluffy as we gave our usual responses to questions. Instead of singing one of our songs, I pretended that we had to leave for another appointment. Shay’s smile dimmed even further.
When we got the signal that the show was wrapped up, I immediately stood.
“Always a pleasure, Bobby.” I slanted a look at the woman beside me. “Shay.” I lifted my guitar case and headed for the door.
“I’m just doing my job, Lindsey,” Shay said to my back.
I paused briefly. Part of me wanted to ask her why she ambushed me, but I didn’t want to give her any more details to pick at.
Whatever. We’d done what we needed to and we’d gotten through it.
I followed Casey out into the hall. Jamie was right behind me and gave her a parting shot, but I was too pissed to try to smooth things over.
The interview warmup had been a fun moment between Jamie and I, and they’d ruined it for some gossip. Not for the first time, and probably not the last.
Cripes, I hadn’t even known anyone knew about Angel. Then again, I wasn’t privy to exactly what had happened before I arrived. It didn’t seem like Logan’s style to throw a singer under the bus, even if there were drugs involved.
The only problem with meteoric fame like Angel’s was that the people she surrounded herself with probably hadn’t been vetted long enough to be sure they were loyal. The tip off to Shay could have come from one of Angel’s less trustworthy people. That had been my first guess, but Shay extrapolating all that from some tidbit seemed a little farfetched.
Maybe someone higher up had clued her in. Who knows?
Casey was quiet as she stood in the doorway of the conference room. I quickly signed a few shirts and hats as well as a half dozen CDs of our new album and two limited edition LPs. Jamie followed right behind me and did the same.
I gave the producer my best fake smile. “Thanks for having us.”
“Of course. We hope you’ll make a return trip the next time you’re in town.”
Jamie snorted behind me. Luckily, I was trained to push past dislike. I knew Casey was just doing her job, but it felt far oilier than just some fun gossip for clickbait videos to get people to go to their website. “We’re happy to help out.”
I dug out my phone and quickly dashed off a message to our tour manager about the tickets I’d just offered up. She probably already knew about it, but the one time I assumed, I’d probably get raked over the coals.
“Darcy will be in touch about the tickets for tonight.”
“We appreciate it.”
It took everything in me not to tell her to fuck off. “Will we see you at the show tonight?”
“The afternoon crew is doing a remote at the venue.”
“I’ll send Oz and Teagan out to them for some soundbites.”
“Thanks.” Casey averted her eyes, then straightened her shoulders and met my gaze. “We’re looking forward to the new singles for the holidays.”
“Knowing Logan, you’ll find out about everything very soon.”
“So, there is something to tell?”
“No, I’m just happy we found a way to do the song. It’s a really good one too. Not a cover song of an old standard.”
“Oh?”
I nodded. “Alexander Nash is super talented. I was glad to finally get a chance to work with him.”
“Why is that exactly?”
Was everyone trying their hand at journalism or something? “We just never got our schedules to line up before.”
“Ah, I see. Have a good show tonight.”
My smile was a little easier. “Thanks.”
Jamie followed me out the door with a peace sign. We didn’t speak until we were down in the parking garage. Jamie opened her mouth and I just shook my head.
George must have been watching for us, because he was waiting with the car trunk open. We quickly stowed our guitars.
Once we were in the soundproofed vehicle, I growled. “Fuck.”
“What the hell was that about?”
“I don’t fucking know.”
“Is that why Logan called you out there? To stand in for that new chick, Angel Martin?”
“Logan doesn’t give much in the
way of details when it comes to gossip. I know it was an emergency and that Angel had some sort of incident that pissed everyone off. Nash has a hard policy about drug use.”
“How hard are we talking?”
“Like a principal in a family drama.”
Jamie laughed. “Is he the one smoking something? Everyone uses something. Either booze, illegals, or a prescription to keep the darkness away.”
I slanted her a look. “Sex can be an addiction too.”
“You’re starting to make me jealous, and I don’t get jealous, you bitch.” She punched my shoulder none too lightly.
I laughed. “Anyway, not Nash. He doesn’t care about drinking, I don’t think. Logan and I drank around him without an issue, but drugs…” I settled back in my seat and stretched my legs. “Hard no. Especially in the studio.”
“Makes shit harder on him, but whatever works for you.” Jamie pulled out her phone and it was blissfully silent for the rest of the ride back to the hotel.
I didn’t have the mental capacity to get into it with Nash about what had happened today, but I didn’t want him to be blindsided. I texted Logan and told him to listen to the show.
Luckily, he was already on it, so maybe I hadn’t screwed up too much. His final reply was a quick one.
I’ll email you some details that we’re using for the album so you don’t get the noose again.
I laughed and thanked him before tucking my phone away again. Because of course, there wasn’t a text from Alex. I thought he’d replied earlier when my phone had buzzed back at the hotel, but nope. No apology, no further communication.
Shocker.
At least it wasn’t another weird call with those moaning noises or whatever the fuck they were. I’d been so busy today that I hadn’t had time to think of it, but now that I was, I couldn’t quite sit still.
I was used to getting strange calls and dealing with odd encounters. Just part and parcel of my crazy business. But this felt different.
Maybe I’d do a reverse lookup on the number when I got a chance. Just to see. Or I could run it by George.
Although what kind of threat was a phone call? It was probably just a wrong number. But I would most likely change my number just the same.
