5
Hooker With a Penis by Tool
* * *
West
“So, anything else you’ve been hiding from me that I should know about?” It comes out with heaps of sarcastic anger, and I’m okay with that.
This is bullshit. How can the album possibly be doing so badly without me knowing? Except, I should’ve known. At the very least when Max tried to tell me. It annoys me almost more than I can stand that she was right.
Ford, the pretentious little fucker, glances nervously at Burke.
“We weren’t trying to hide it, exactly,” Burke grumbles. “You just had enough on your plate. But now you know. And now you also know why it’s so important that we do this little apology project.”
“Since when did the social media response to music become more important than what’s actually good?” I muse out loud. Neither of them answers, not that I expected them to. “Whatever, man. I’m not happy about it, but I can’t think of a better answer on the fly. Can’t we regroup and go a different direction?”
I hate feeling trapped. And right now I feel like a baby bear in a cave that’s just been woken by a hunter looking for a nice new throw rug. I’m not sure who’s the hunter in this situation, Ford or Max. Regardless, Max may end up being the one to skin me alive publicly.
“Why not this?” Burke insists.
“Haven’t we had this discussion?” I say with a sigh. “It’s pandering, man. And so not rock and roll.”
Ford fixes me with a disdainful look. “Worried about selling out?”
Now that makes me laugh. “Son, I sold out when you were about four years old. You can’t not in this industry. But I’m also not about to do something that’s contrary to the image we’ve worked hard to create.”
“Even if that image isn’t working for you anymore?” Ford asks pointedly.
I glare at him. I’m never so sullen as I am around Ford. Dude’s a dick, and it’s all I can do not to punch him in his shiny face.
But unfortunately, the dick has a point. I guess that’s his job, after all: maintaining our image. But I still don’t get when and why social media became such a big deal. I bet it pisses Ford off too, come to think of it, not being able to completely control the message. Being subject to the ever-changing whims of the masses.
Welcome to my world, fucker. Once upon a time it was cool to be the troubled rock star. But when the consequences of living up to expectations go bad, they all turn on you in a flash, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your shattered life. I shake my head, pushing the bitter thoughts back into the shadows.
“So, what happens if I say I’m fine with things the way they are? That I don’t want to play along with this game of Humiliate West?” I challenge.
“First,” Ford replies arrogantly, “making you look human is not humiliating you. Only you can humiliate yourself if you continue to behave like a spoiled, entitled brat. Second, if you don’t heed our recommendations, I’m afraid Nelson Public Relations will be unable to continue working in an advisory capacity to the band.”
I fight back a snort at his pompous declaration, wondering if he passed that little change of strategy by his daddy before deciding on a course that could fuck over the family business.
“And I didn’t want to have to play this card, but if you don’t give the sponsors something to placate them ahead of the tour, your label is threatening to drop you too,” Burke pipes up.
The label is ready to bolt? My head swings between them both. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Didn’t I just ask if there was anything else they’d been keeping from me? I’m so pissed off I can practically feel the veins popping in my forehead.
But exploding will get me nowhere. I knew I was on thin ice. I guess I just didn’t see the cracks had already started to form. And even I’m not stupid enough to keep pushing my limits.
“Fine. Get them back in here and let’s get this over with.”
With a smug grin, Ford rises and pops open the door just in time to hear Max’s boss say, “We’re not going to be the magazine that said no to Kristoffer Westberg. It would bury us.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Ford says, not sounding sorry at all. “But we’re ready for you.” And with that he heads back to his seat, leaving the door open.
Max’s boss comes back in, looking sheepish. Max follows looking downright pissed off. For some reason that pleases me.
“So, are we a go?” Jason asks, steepling his fingers under his chin.
“Absolutely,” Ford insists. “The tour announcement is only six weeks away, so we need to get moving on this like yesterday.”
“Six weeks?” Max blurts out. “That’s insanity.”
Jason gives her a sharp look.
“It’s what we’ve got,” Burke replies gruffly. “If that doesn’t work for you we can go somewhere else —”
“No,” Jason interrupts. “We’ll make it work.” He shoots another look at Max. “If Alexsis assists, that shouldn’t be a problem, right, Max?” The tense undertone of “don’t you dare fucking disagree with me in front of them” almost makes me laugh. I’m an asshole, but there it is.
Max takes a noticeable breath in through her nose, then responds tightly, “Of course. We’ll make it work.”
I fight a smile as I watch her, waiting for the obvious tension coiling her body to explode all over every damn one of us. And even with all the heavyweights in the room, I’m willing to bet Maxi Marshall’s wrath is something to behold.
“Good,” Ford all but purrs. “Now, Ms. Marshall. Since you were the one who came up with the idea, tell me: Who should West apologize to?”
Max gives him a bewildered look. “Aside from the fans, that’s on West. How am I supposed to know everyone he’s pissed off?”
“You know, that’s a good point,” Ford responds cryptically. “I think the fans may be the least of our agenda, actually. If we made this more personal, the fans would come just for the spectacle. And in a way, he’d be humbling himself to them and the people that they never even knew mattered to him.”
Suddenly my humor at Max’s discomfort evaporates and I shoot daggers toward Ford. Because I know exactly where he’s going with this.
“We’re not bringing my family into this,” I interject tightly.
Ford turns toward me with a wolfish grin. “Is that who matters to you? Because if so, that’s exactly what we need to do. I know humbling yourself isn’t in your repertoire, West, but like it or not, that’s exactly what you’re going to do. And apologizing to your family, your friends, or whoever you actually care about … well, that’s so much more impactful. Don’t you think?”
I cross my arms over my chest and sink back into my chair, unwilling to rise to his bait. But that doesn’t stop him.
“If you really care about the tour, the fans, I think that’s exactly what needs to happen,” he concludes, exuding smug-bastard vibes like it’s going out of style.
Still, I keep my mouth shut, shaking my head slowly.
Burke’s phone starts vibrating on the table. He silences it and looks up at me. “I have to get back to the office. You stay here and work with Ms. Marshall on the list. We’ll get the contracts in place ASAP and start moving. Got that?”
He doesn’t even wait for an answer, rising and shaking Jason’s hand, doling out pleasantries before he leaves, dragging Ford with him.
“Well,” Jason says awkwardly. “I guess I’ll just leave you two to get on the same page.”
Max looks pleadingly at Jason, but much to my amusement, he avoids her gaze and ducks out, closing the door behind him.
And she looks so perturbed, I can’t help poking her just a little. “Well, Maxi. Here we are again. Alone at last.”
6
Under Pressure by Queen & David Bowie
* * *
Max
The temptation to leave is strong. Anything not to have to look at West’s stupid smirking face.
“Are you really going to
make me do this?” I blurt out.
A wicked smile curls West’s lips and he leans forward, getting dangerously close. “Seems like your boss is the one making you, based on the bit of hallway conversation we caught earlier.”
“He’s only making me because you asked. So un-ask,” I push.
“Now, why would I do that? We have so much fun together, don’t we, Maxi? Don’t you wanna be my friend and help me out?” I don’t answer, which makes him chuckle. “I’m a little disappointed, honestly. I’d counted on you getting us both out of this. But don’t worry, if I have my way, neither of us will have to do this.”
He’s disappointed in me? Well, that’s rich.
“Yeah, and exactly how do you plan to do that?” I snap.
“There’s always another option, Maxi. Always.”
My hackles rise, but I refrain from telling him to stop calling me “Maxi” because I’m pretty sure the more I do, the more he calls me that just to get a reaction.
“Another option? There isn’t another option, West.”
“Sure there is. Matter of fact I suggested one, but Burke wasn’t having it.”
“Well, it was probably some asinine self-serving suggestion like ‘Party with West,’” I joke.
“It was ‘Win a Date With West’ actually,” he corrects me.
There’s no stopping the tide of uproarious laughter that bursts out of me. What. An. Arrogant. Bastard.
“It’s not that funny,” he grumbles, the butt-hurt-kid look back.
I wipe the tears of laughter from my eyes. “Oh, but it is. Really, though, I hate to be the only one to tell you the truth — again — but their solution is perfect. You’re not going to convince them out of it.”
“Perfect? How’s that?”
I take a deep breath to calm the last remnants of laughter out of my system. So out of touch, this one. “Because this is going to be massively uncomfortable for you. And it’s going to be a spectacle. People are going to gobble it up. Love you or hate you, everyone is going to want to watch a huge former rock star debase himself and, in all likelihood, get yelled at by a bunch of people who say all the things everyone’s thinking. And then they get to watch you react to it. It’s viral gold.”
“Former rock star?” he asks acerbically.
I snort. “That’s what you got from what I just said? Figures.” I shake my head. “Look. You may as well just accept that this is going to happen.” As soon as I say it, I realize that applies to me too. Fuck.
West smirks at me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. And exactly how fucked I am by this too.
“Guess we’re in for a ride, then.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that,” I grumble. Maybe I can convince Alexsis to step into a bigger role on this. Wouldn’t be a hard sell, especially if it means more time with West.
“Oh, if I have to do this, you have to do this.”
I purse my lips at him, considering that. “Are you at least going to apologize honestly?”
“I don’t know, depends on who I have to apologize to.”
“Right. So, the bare minimum.”
“That about sums it up.”
“This. This is why you’ve disappointed so many people,” I say with exasperation.
“Now you sound like my old man, which isn’t surprising, since I like him about as much as I like you.” He pauses. “Okay, that might not be fair considering how much I loathe him.”
I resist rolling my eyes at his declaration of dislike for me. I also resist saying it’s very much mutual. Instead, I focus on what we have to do.
“Sounds like he might be a good place to start, then,” I reply.
West’s brows jump. “Oh no. Not gonna happen.”
I raise an eyebrow in return. “You still think you can get out of this, don’t you?” He doesn’t respond, just smirks at me. The bastard. I rise, already so over arguing with him. “All right, I can see we aren’t going to get anywhere with the list today. But you might want to start seriously considering stepping up for once in your life. Because if you don’t … well, it’s sure as hell going to hurt you more than it hurts me.”
His face pulls together in confusion. Knowing I’m getting nowhere, I turn to leave.
“What if I told you going through this might be worse?”
I turn back and he’s risen and is now standing just a couple of feet away.
“For you,” I point out, returning one of his many smirks.
“I guess you’re used to train wrecks,” he replies, staring at me intently and radiating some seriously tormented vibes. “But I’m pretty over them at this point, Maxi. I want to get off this ride. I’m done being the bad guy.”
My heart twinges in my chest at the reminder that he’s just human. Not an untouchable rock star. He’s a man. One who made some very bad choices and has suffered for them. Who doesn’t realize or won’t accept that he can’t simply stop suffering for them whenever he chooses.
“Then start being the good guy,” I reply.
The angst on his face is too much. I turn and walk out the door, leaving West alone with his demons.
7
Crucify by Tori Amos
* * *
West
“Stop, stop, stop!” Ward cries over the music, popping the mic back onto its stand. He whirls on me as the music dies off. “West, man, what the fuck?”
I jut my chin out, glaring at him. I know I’m fucking it up. But I also don’t know how to not bite his head off right now.
He continues to stare at me expectantly. “Out with it. Your chords are harsh and out of tune. Which means you’re in danger of snapping a string, or possibly even your beloved Rosie’s beautiful little neck. If you need to burn off some anger, don’t take it out on her, man.”
I blow out a breath and slip the black leather strap over my head, gently seating Rosie on her stand.
I open my mouth. Then shake my head and close it. I prop my hands on my hips, digging deep to find a way to not be a whiny, aggressive little bitch.
“Reporter?” Michael asks from behind his set while twirling a drumstick.
I huff a laugh. “Not this time.” I pause, my annoyance at Maxi Marshall simmering too close to the surface, even if she’s not my biggest problem right now. But really, why does she have to be so irritating? I bet a good fuck would do her wonders … by someone other than me. Of course. I think. God, what’s wrong with me? “Well, not exactly, anyway.” I heave a sigh. Fine. Here goes. “I’ve been trying to come up with something to give the label and the sponsors that doesn’t require heaping doses of public humiliation.”
“Good luck with that,” Nik says with a snort. “Ford told us what they want you to do. The public’s going to lap that shit up, man. It’ll be over in a few weeks. Just go with it.”
My eyes meet hers, and I remember that she’s the youngest of us all at twenty-six. And she’s all over social media. If anyone in this room knows what they really want, it’s her.
“Okay, fine. Maybe I get it, in theory. It’s like a car wreck. You can’t not look. But is that really going to translate to sales?” I ask. “I’m not convinced.”
“Well, look at it this way,” Michael says with a note of irritation in his voice. “If you don’t do it, we’re done. And some of us didn’t have a huge rock career back in the day. For some of us this is our shot. You really gonna fuck that up for us?”
Nik shoots him a nervous glance. “Come on, man, give West a break. This is heavy shit. Would you wanna do it?”
“In a goddamn heartbeat,” he replies without hesitation. “No apology tour, no shot. Even if it doesn’t boost ticket sales, without it there are no ticket sales. It’s a no-brainer.” He’s looking at and responding to Nik, but I’m hyperaware that every syllable is directed at me, and I can’t help the rage it brings to the surface.
“That’s easy to say when it’s not you that’s going to be served up as the media sacrifice of the summer in the name of entert
aining the masses. I signed up to make music, not be a scapegoat for society’s frustrations with famous people.”
“How about just their frustrations with you, then?” James asks quietly. He looks up, his kind brown eyes meeting mine, and I can see the ache in them before he even continues. “Because that’s the crux here, dude. It’s time to stop being selfish. So you’ve got to decide, what’s more important: your ego or the band?”
Pain lances through my heart. Is it really selfish not to want to be forced into this? Is this whole band against me? I look to Ward, who can barely meet my eyes.
He gives a half-hearted shrug. “I know it’s difficult, but you have everything to lose if you don’t do this, West. Stop wasting time trying to find a way out of it. There isn’t. Their minds are made up. Own it and you have a shot at everything you want. Keep fighting it and, well, we’re all going to lose.”
I blink hard at the sting in my eyes, anger bubbling up from inside of me.
“I’d fight for you guys if you were in my shoes,” I snap. “But sure. It’s not like I haven’t worked my ass off to get here. I’ll just keep carrying everyone’s burdens.”
“Don’t be such a fucking martyr,” Michael snaps. “It’s not like you didn’t make this problem.”
I clench my jaw so hard to keep from punching him in his stupid ginger face that I can hear my teeth straining under the pressure. The thought of cracking a tooth pisses me off even more. Wouldn’t that just be the shit icing on this turd cake?
“Over the line,” Ward barks at him. “If you’re lucky enough to get a taste of success you may understand someday how easy it is to fall into the sex-drugs-and-rock-and-roll trap.”
“And what it costs you to climb back out,” James agrees. “We’re here for you, West. But it would seem you’re not done climbing yet.”
The threat of tears gets even more real, so I roughly grab Rosie and turn, done with this fucking conversation.
Finding His Redemption Page 4
