Wheels of Fire (Hollywood Demons Book 3)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “Anything to sell their shitty tabloids,” I answer.

  He nods but still seems troubled.

  I can’t worry about it now. I’d rather enjoy Chaser’s last show than worry about the things I can’t control back in L.A.

  “Is this better?” I ask Stump.

  “I remember them playing this at the clubhouse!” Stump shouts in my ear.

  As cool as he pretends to be, it’s obvious he’s bursting with pride while he watches his son on stage.

  “I’m so happy you were able to come see them. I know Chaser’s happy you’re here.”

  He shrugs. “I worried we’d make him nervous, but he seems to be in his element.” A note of sadness creeps into his voice.

  “We’re both looking forward to coming home to spend time with you and the club.”

  He nods and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Good.”

  He wanders out a few feet in front of me, closer to the stage and leans on one of the metal supports for a better vantage point.

  “How you doing, babe?” Andrew settles his hands on my shoulders.

  I tip my head back and smile at him. “Not too bad. Are you nervous about your set?”

  He holds his hand straight out in front of him, parallel to the floor. “Steady as a motherfuckin’ rock.”

  “What are you doing with your hand on my son’s woman?” Stump’s rumbling voice holds a world of threat.

  Andrew jerks his hands away, holding both up in the air. “Chaser asked me to look out for Mallory tonight.”

  “Looking doesn’t involve touching,” Stump warns. He sweeps his icy glare over me as well.

  “I’m fine, Stump.”

  He grunts in response.

  Somehow, I don’t think it’s me he was worried about.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chaser

  Maybe I’m too old for it but, there’s a small part of me eager to impress my dad tonight. The crowd alone should be impressive. I almost can’t look out at the sea of sweaty, happy faces without a dizzying wave of euphoria washing over me.

  Pity we’re at the end of the tour. The combination of a vocal coach and replacing heroin with sex has given Jacob a polished edge to his performance that I haven’t seen in a long time. His steady voice leads us through each song without strain.

  When it’s time for my solo, Jacob flashes me a thumb’s up before walking off stage. Buzzing from the energy of the crowd, I call up the notes from the song I’ve been calling “Salvation” in my head since Mallory and I worked on it the last time we were home. It’s a slower, gentler melody and at first, I fear it might lose the crowd but when I sneak a glance, they seem transfixed. I continue, embellishing and expanding, eventually morphing the notes into another song, a riff I often play to warm up, and on and on.

  Alvin’s thump, thump, thump, pulls me out of the solo. A system we agreed on in case I get too carried away. Something to pull me back without jarring me. I turn and thank him with a quick salute, and he lifts his chin.

  “Holy fuck!” Jacob shouts into his mic. “Did someone get that on video? That has to be Chaser’s best solo yet. He must love you guys! Saved that one just for you, Union, New York!”

  The crowd screams their appreciation. I duck my head and laugh.

  Thinking ‘Candy Jar’ is our next song, I strum the first few notes.

  Instead of waiting for his cue, Jacob runs off stage again and returns, dragging Mallory behind him.

  Our eyes meet. She laughs and shrugs, letting me know she’s fine. I’m really over the whole ‘Candy Jar’ dance routine. But it’s the last night of the tour so I guess we should go out with a blast.

  “Hey, hey!” Jacob waves his arms in the air.

  My fingers slow.

  “Welcome our ‘Candy Jar’ girl to the stage!” Jacob holds one of Mallory’s hands up in the air. “Every night she’s with us, she’s busy watching her man play. You’d think she’d get tired of Chaser. I mean, I’m tired of him by now. But nope.”

  The crowd laughs.

  I flip him off. “Tired of you too, bro,” I say into my mic.

  “Nah, you love me. I’ve grown on all of ya!”

  “Like a fungus,” Alvin agrees.

  Laughing at their antics, Mallory takes a few steps back. Jacob pulls her forward again. “So you guys all know the story of how Chaser and Mallory met when we filmed the video for ‘Candy Jar’, right?”

  A good portion of the audience screams back some version of yes. Up front, an obnoxious group of guys who’ve been knocking into people the whole show, slap each other. One of them cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Slut!”

  “Fuck you, dude.” Jacob points to the security guard. “Get him out of here.”

  “Come say that to my face later, motherfucker,” I growl into the mic.

  “That guy’s a dick. Anyway,” Jacob continues. “What you don’t know is that Mallory’s also our, Queen. Of. The. Road!”

  He holds up his hands, waiting for us to start the song.

  Okay, so I guess we’re playing ‘Queen of the Road’ now. Thanks for the head’s up, dick.

  I motion for Darren to bring me my slide. Don’t know what the fuck he’s doing but he’s not going to have it in my hands anytime soon, so when Alvin taps out his first few beats, I start the intro without it.

  Mallory waves one more time and quickly scurries off stage where Andrew meets her. I eye the bottle of champagne in his hands warily. Fucker’s probably planning to douse us with it since it’s the last night of the tour. Tradition and all that. I guess we’ve gotten off lucky compared to some of the pranks I’ve heard of bands playing on each other at the end of a tour.

  The solo for ‘Queen of the Road’ brings me right back to our shitty little apartment in L.A. Good memories, though. Jacob takes a seat on Alvin’s riser, banging his head along until it’s time for him to join in and finish the song.

  With the mic at his side, Jacob yells, “Candy Jar!” at us.

  Closing my eyes, I keep playing, shaping the notes from one song into the other. Two completely different pieces in my mind but the shift sounds pretty fuckin’ good. I need to try that more often.

  Above me, there’s a whoosh. Before I can open my eyes and tilt my head back to see what the fuck it is, thousands of little Dum-Dum lollipops rain down from the ceiling.

  “Motherfucker!” I’m laughing too hard to sound threatening though.

  Ducking my head to avoid getting poked in the eye by a wayward candy stick, I keep right on playing.

  A barrage of Skittles pelts us next.

  Jacob tips his head back and opens wide, filling his mouth with the colorful little candies. I step up to my mic and finish the last few lines of the song since Jacob’s mouth is occupied. Garrett reaches over to slap Jacob on the back when he coughs and chokes on his mouthful.

  The entire stage is coated in lollipops and round sugary pebbles. Jacob slips, lands on his ass and raises his arms in the air.

  “Good night, Union! Thanks for the treats, Vicious Vandals!”

  Kicking candy out of my way, so I don’t faceplant leaving the stage, I finally make it backstage.

  Andrew’s waiting with a lollipop hanging from his lips. “Sweet show, Chaser.”

  “You’re a dick.” I laugh. “You could’ve poked our damn eyes out.”

  He doubles over laughing and holds out his hand. I yank him closer, pulling him off his feet and he crashes into me. “Thanks, bro. Good fucking tour. Bullet wounds and arrests notwithstanding.”

  “We’ll do it again, soon, bro,” he promises. “Real soon.”

  I shudder at the thought. Could I survive another tour with Andrew? But tonight’s a night to celebrate, so I nod and agree.

  “The guys wanted to dump champagne on you but candy seemed so much better!” He nods at Mallory. “I waited until she was off stage.”

  “Is that why you changed the songs?” I ask Jacob.

  He bounces over, grinning and
shaking his head. “I had no fucking idea.” He lifts his chin at Andrew. “What? No cock hammock for the last show?”

  I shoot a glare at Jacob. The tour’s been just fine without having to look at Andrew’s dick trying to break out of its tiny leather prison every damn night.

  “Nah, man.” Andrew touches the side where the bullet whizzed through him. “My side is still all fucked up.”

  Jacob has the decency to look away. “Sorry, bro.”

  Garrett joins our party by punching Andrew’s arm. “Ya coulda poked my eye out with one of those damn sticks, ya fuckmuppet.”

  Andrew grins like a loon and points at me. “He said the same thing! You’re such a bunch of pussies.”

  Someone bear-hugs me from behind. “Hey, sweet thang. Nice show,” Vinnie shouts in my ear.

  “Thanks for the candy shower, dickhead.”

  He roars with laughter and slaps me on the back. “You did good, kid. Fucking awesome solo tonight. Almost makes me not want to go on stage after you, ya prick.”

  Shit, a few months ago, I would’ve been freaking out to know Vinnie Price watched my performance. Now, it all seems…normal.

  Andrew and Vinnie wander off to get ready for their set, leaving me with my bandmates to revel in our awesomeness.

  Another set of arms try to strangle me from behind. What the fuck?

  “I feel like we’re real musicians or something now,” Alvin says against my ear before releasing me.

  “We need T-shirts printed up. ‘I survived the Vicious Vandals experience, 1989’.”

  “Yeah!” He does a quick scan of the immediate area. “I think Tally poached some of our groupies.”

  “Good for him.” I laugh. “Figured that was one of the reasons he came.”

  Mallory’s standing off to the side with my father and I reach over to pull her into my arms. “Surprised you came out on stage.”

  “Jacob asked if I would.” She shrugs. “I couldn’t say no on your last night.”

  “Thank you.” I kiss her cheek.

  “You coming home with them?” my father asks Alvin.

  Alvin shrugs and glances at the ground. “Not in the mood to see my parents, really.”

  “My dad and Mallory fixed up the house last time we were home. We have a guest room if you want to stay there,” I offer.

  “Nah, I don’t want to be in your way.”

  “The house is big, Alvin. There’s plenty of room,” Mallory says.

  I appreciate her jumping in because I suspect it’s more that Alvin doesn’t want to annoy Mallory that’s making him hesitate.

  “We’ll be at the clubhouse a lot too, so you’ll have it to yourself for a few days at least.”

  Mallory peers up at me. Staying at the clubhouse probably isn’t high on her list of things to do but I can’t exactly say I want to whisk her off to Niagara Falls to propose to her, now can I?

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “I had one of the prospects drive her car down, so you have a vehicle to ride home in,” my father informs me.

  “You couldn’t trailer my bike down, old man?” I grin and nudge him with my shoulder.

  “Ungrateful fucker,” he grumbles.

  Alvin runs his hands through his hair a few times. “I’ll think it over. I might want to go down to the city for a few days. Do some exploring. Fuck a Rockette.” He shrugs.

  “If you change your mind, take the train and we’ll come pick you up,” Mallory says, ignoring the Rockette comment.

  “Thanks, hon.” He shakes my dad’s hand and punches my shoulder before taking off.

  “What’d you think of the show?” I ask my father.

  He stares at me for a few seconds and just when I think he’s come up with an answer, someone interrupts us.

  “Chaser! Can I ask you a few questions?” A girl who can’t be a day over sixteen pushes her way in front of me. “Please?” She thrusts the laminated pass around her neck toward me. “My name is Shannon Abbott. I won the KISS-99 contest and I’m a reporter for my school paper.”

  Shit, she’s so earnest and cute, I can’t say no. “Sure, Shannon. Whatcha got for me?”

  Her entire face turns five different shades of red while she flips through her notebook. I tip my head at Mallory and wink.

  Finally, the girl finds her list of questions. “Has there been any tension between you and Andrew since the shooting?”

  Damn, cute, or not, this kid isn’t fucking around.

  “Not at all.” I lift my chin toward the stage. “That candy raining down on us tonight was all Andrew. The two bands are closer than ever.”

  She diligently scribbles down my entire answer before flipping the page.

  “‘Candy Jar’ is your most successful song to date. But it’s slightly different than most of Kickstart’s other body of work. Are you afraid that twenty years from now, that song will be your legacy?”

  “Body of work” seems like such a serious way to describe our music but it’s an interesting question. One I’ve never really stopped to consider before. “Honestly, if people remember our music at all in twenty years, I’ll be honored.”

  “Are you tired of playing ‘Candy Jar’?”

  “Not yet. We feed off the energy of the crowd, and they still seem to enjoy it.”

  “What about you, Mallory?” she asks.

  “Me? Uh, no.” She blinks at me. “Every time I hear those opening notes, it reminds me of the day Chaser and I met.”

  Despite the kid reporter taking diligent notes, I have to lean down and kiss Mallory. “Same.”

  The girl rattles off a few more standard questions. Plans for our next tour, next album, favorite hobbies. Stuff like that. The girl has spunk for starting off with the hardest questions first, I’ll give her that.

  “May I take a picture with you?” she asks when she’s finished.

  “Sure.”

  Mallory offers to work the camera, but Shannon wants both of us in the photo, so my father ends up doing the honors.

  “Thank you so much!” Shannon squeals before running over to Garrett and whipping out her little notepad of terror.

  “Cute kid.” I chuckle, wondering if she’ll ask each of us the same probing questions.

  “She was adorable.” Mallory smiles, watching Shannon and Garrett. “I wasn’t expecting those questions.”

  “Neither was I.”

  “Is it always this busy?” my father asks.

  “Pretty much.” I shrug and glance around. Thom’s over in the corner talking to Andrew’s tour manager, plotting hell only knows what. Clusters of groupies. Fans, roadies, venue security. “The mood’s a bit crazier since it’s the last night.”

  He shifts and for the first time ever, my father seems uncertain or uncomfortable. “You’ve got a whole life that’s separate from the club.”

  The serious change in tone wipes the grin off my face. “What are you saying?”

  “I’ve never been prouder than I was tonight, watching you.” He shakes his head and seems to be having trouble finding the words he wants, so I stay quiet. “Really wish your mom could’ve seen you.”

  Not expecting that to come out of his mouth, I’m a bit off-balance. “Not like she couldn’t find me if she gave a shit,” I answer, harsher than I meant.

  Mallory tightens her arms around my waist and I hang onto her like she’s my damn life raft.

  My father straightens up and adjusts his cut. “That’s true.” He glances out toward the stage. “Such a big crowd. It’s been so damn long. She could be here and I wouldn’t even recognize her.”

  As if that thought hasn’t occurred to me every time I’ve stepped on a stage since I formed my first band. “I don’t think ‘Chaser Adams’ would mean much to her. Kickstart sure as fuck wouldn’t.”

  “Maybe.” He scuffs the toe of his boot against the concrete floor a few times before glancing up at me again. “Fuck, son, I wasn’t trying to ruin your night. I just wanted you to know, I want you to pursue th
is for as long as it makes you happy.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I won’t lie. I thought you’d go out to la-la land, try this music thing out for a few months. Maybe a year. Then come home.” He holds up one hand. “Not because I don’t think you’ve got the talent. Because it’s a nasty, cutthroat business.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But watching you up there.” He shakes his head. “That joy on your face. That’s what I want for you.”

  “What about—”

  “Club’s not going anywhere. Music industry, all that entertainment shit, can change in an instant.” He snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Fickle business. Ride it out as long as you can. As long as it makes you happy.”

  Emotions tighten my throat. “Thank you.”

  The sentimental expression on his face transforms into something more familiar and casual. “You want to hire some of your Demon brothers to run security for your next tour, that might not be a bad idea either.” He grins at me, working to lift the heavy tone that settled over this conversation. “You got a network of clubs around the country you can pull from.”

  “Really? You’d be okay with that?”

  “Fuck yeah. Lot of your brothers could use the work and I don’t like how close some of those crazed fans want to get to you or Mallory.”

  “It’s only gotten worse since Andrew’s shooting.”

  His mouth twists at the mention of Andrew’s name.

  I’m left wondering if his reaction is related to my brief stint in jail.

  Or if something else happened while I was out on stage tonight.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chaser

  Damn, it feels good to be home. Clear-headed and coming off an amazing tour with the woman I want to spend my life with by my side. The five-hour drive seems to fly by with Mallory and I catching up on everything about the tour, her job, and our future plans.

  At the house, we find a surprise in the driveway.