Amped

by Teagan Kade

  “That’s what Dom said.”

  “And what did Dom say about taking them to court?”

  “That it wouldn’t be worth it. That we don’t have the finances for that kind of fight.”

  “So it’s guerrilla warfare then?”

  I love it when goes into battle mode. “I guess so. What do we do?”

  I still can’t get over the effect Sel has on me. Five minutes ago I was ready to bring fire and brimstone down on this poor cell phone. Now all I want to do spitball solutions, get the war machine churning.

  “Leave it to me,” says Sel. “I’m going to take this into my own hands.” I can’t see her, but I know she’s smiling. She’s ready to fight.

  The last fucking person on earth I’d want to be right now is Rick fucking Evans.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SELENA

  I spend a lot of time during my trip downtown considering my relationship with Rick. How it started. What went wrong. What I might have done better, but by the end of it all I realize is one thing.

  I made the right decision.

  Being with Mat is so much more. He understands who I am to the very core. Yes, the three of us grew up together. We lived out of each other’s pockets, but I see now I was always drawn to Mat. He just seemed so… unobtainable, a different creature. Maybe I was even a little afraid of how different he was to me. I was the girl who always put her studies first and cautioned against anything involving the slightest hint of danger, so different to the carpe-diem code the Bartons lived by. Maybe Mason knew he’d die young. Maybe he was simply trying to pack in as much as he could before he left this world.

  Mat put on a brave face after his father’s death, but I’m certain it cut him up inside. Here, the man he’d looked up to his entire life, the man we had all looked up to as a sort of god figure, was ripped away from him forever. And it was largely by Mason’s own hand.

  It may have affected Mat, but it destroyed his mother. She collapsed at the funeral and has never been the same since. The press descended like vultures at first, but when Mat left everything died down until almost everyone had forgotten about the Bartons. Mason’s music lived on, but it was distinct of its creator, especially considering the circumstances of his death.

  All I can do for Mat now is to be there and show him I understand, that he can open up fully to me, that I’m in this for the long haul.

  And the sex. My. God. The. Sex. I’ll die a happy woman if I get to climb into bed with Mat every night.

  We enter downtown, the low-rises giving way to glass towers, suits and briefcases full of production schedules and meeting minutes, scripts and contracts. This is the heart of LA’s corporate world. This is the part of LA I loathe the most.

  Suck it up. Suck it up and get this done.

  I pay the driver and step out, looking up at Rick’s building. From this angle it looks like it’s pricking the sky itself. I’m not surprised it’s the most phallic building in the city. Because it’s full of dicks, most likely.

  The thought makes me smile, but it’s replaced by dread, déjà vu. This time, however, I’m ready for whatever surprise Rick has up his sleeve.

  You got this.

  I’m feeling confident walking into the music label’s building where Rick’s working now. He’s about to get a piece of my mind—maybe my foot if he’s lucky enough. He deserves far worse.

  It all evaporates when I see her walking out.

  Alice.

  We both freeze. If this was a western our hands would be hovering in the air, fingers twitchy. But it isn’t. It’s midday downtown Los Angeles and just as dangerous.

  Fuck it.

  I take a step forward, getting as close as I can. She’s not going to get to me.

  Her expression snaps from shock to feigned apathy, but I can tell I was the last person she was expecting to bump into today.

  “Well,” I begin, trying to keep the volume of my voice level. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  She takes a step forward herself. “What do I have to say for myself? How about you?”

  So that’s how it’s going to be. I want to cross my arms, but my hands find their way to my hips instead. I cannot believe this girl, this sweet girl I grew up with, has done such a complete one-eighty. “What did I do to deserve being treated like this, Alice?” I bark at her. “I want to know.”

  She shrugs and looks away. “It’s not my problem if you can’t hang onto your man.”

  I should punch her damn lights out, but somehow manage to maintain enough composure to continue. “I don’t care about Rick. In a way, I’m glad you two are together. You deserve each other.”

  “At least I know how to please him. From what he told me, you couldn’t give a blowjob to save your life.”

  That’s it. I step right up into her face, forcing her back. The movement is so quick she almost trips over, but she corrects and stands, albeit a little terrified. I use my finger to point her down, put her in her damn hussy place. “I always looked out for you. I mean, god, I even helped you out when you were struggling with your career, flat-out broke, and this is how you repay me?”

  I see she’s struggling with her reaction, but in an instant her face knots and she returns fire, the anger seething out of her, her eyes narrowing. “You want me to thank you for that, for forcing me to live in your shadow?” She stops, collecting her thoughts. “You want to know the truth?”

  “Yes, I do as a matter of fact.”

  She stabs her finger at me, spitting it out. “I fucking hated being your backup singer, forced to be part of the wallpaper while you stood there in the spotlight. I’ve always been a better singer. It should have been me, not you.”

  I think she realizes she can’t take this back, but she has to stick to her guns now. At least I know the truth.

  Funnily enough, my anger evaporates. All I see before me now is a sad, green-eyed girl whose life didn’t go the way she wanted. Well, now she can have her fifteen minutes of fame—for better or worse.

  She’s not done. “I was in love with Rick the whole time. Do you know that? I actually envied you, and for what? I should have just taken what was mine. My time has come and you are getting what you deserve.”

  I laugh it’s so ludicrous. “Is that right?”

  “Yeah.” But the fire is gone. It comes out listless and weak. She goes to say something else but loses her train of thought, shoving past me to flag down a taxi.

  “Yeah, go!” I yell to her back, but all I really feel is pity. Still, there’s Rick to deal with.

  Don’t let her get to you. Don’t let her get to you.

  I keep this little mantra up as I step into the elevator.

  I’m still saying it as I walk into Rick’s office, much to the protest of his secretary—a young blonde who looks fresh out of a frat house. She’s perched on the corner of his desk, his hand on her back, perhaps lower.

  He tells her to wait outside and steps around me to close the door. “Selena. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  I eye-dagger blondie as I close the blinds.

  Now I’m actually here confronting him it’s quite different to the verbal firestorm I had pictured in my head. He’s way too composed leaning against his desk like that—way too… smug. “I didn’t think you’d stoop so low, Rick.”

  He throws his hands out. “Sel, what are you talking about?”

  Yeah, play dumb, asshole. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Our history together means nothing?”

  I ignore it. “Falsifying song rights just to mess with me, because what? Because I wouldn’t spread my legs for you?”

  “You’re reading this all wrong. It’s business plain and simple.”

  “So you’re admitting to it?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m admitting to nothing, but if you want to get legal you should know this label has the employ of the best lawyers in the country. I’d hate to see you out on the street. You know, bartending and all.”
>
  Motherfucker.

  He tries a different tack, standing. “Selena, come on now.”

  “I will not ‘come on now.’”

  “Please.”

  My skin’s started to crawl at this denial. “No, screw you, Rick. This is so childish.”

  He grins. “Is it?”

  “After all I did for you and your career.”

  He shakes his head. “Now, now. I’ll have you know I put a lot of work in behind the scenes to get you to where you are. You’d be nothing without me.”

  “And you’d be nothing without me.”

  “I have Alice.”

  “Good luck with that,” I snort. “We both know she hasn’t got what it takes to perform solo.”

  His snake eyes don’t leave me. “We’ll see. Now, did you just come here to hurl abuse or is there an actual point to all this?”

  I swallow hard. He is getting to me. This is the last thing I wanted. “Mat and I are going to file the RIAA for an investigation. That will prove you falsified those rights and you will finally get what you deserve.”

  He puts his hand out, open. “Be my guest. I’ve nothing to hide, especially not from you and your little boyfriend.”

  “There’s nothing ‘little’ about Mat, I assure you.”

  That does it. I watch him tense, but he closes it down and stitches on a smile. He waves the threats away. “Say you do. I’ll make sure the legal proceedings drag out so long the two of you will be long forgotten about, your career over. In fact, I see no reason why you should be mad at me at all. I’m only looking out for myself. I advise you to do the same. You know how this industry is. It’s not a team sport. Never has been. Never will.”

  “Mason and Dom seemed to do pretty well together.”

  “And look what happened to the great Mason Barton.”

  He takes a step forward, slipping his hands into his pockets and pushing his pelvis out. “You know what? I’m a tolerant guy, merciful. I’ll take you back if you want. We can forget everything that’s happened. Start fresh.”

  Like hell. But I play. “I suppose there’s a catch?”

  “You bring me any new material you and Mat were working on, anything leftover that could jeopardize your career.”

  I’ve had just about enough of this prick as I can stand. We were friends once, but never again. My cursing drought is over. I let it all out. “Fuck you, Rick. Fuck you. Fuck Alice. Hell, fuck this whole penis building. You fucking disgust me, you hear?”

  Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to cry—not for this waste of space. I threaten instead, my finger quivering before me. “I swear to god you’re going to pay for this, for everything you’ve done if it’s the last thing I do.”

  He simply nods and continues to smile. “Goodbye, Selena.”

  I slam the door on the way out.

  Blondie stands to shout something.

  She sits down real fast when she gets a look at my face.

  When the elevator doors close, I fall against the back wall, pounding the mirror there with my fist at the sheer arrogance of it all, that Rick could take something that was Mat and mine, and claim it as his own, as Alice’s—like she’s ever put pen to paper in her life.

  He won’t get away with it. I’m going to make damn sure of that.

  *

  It’s nice to be in Mat’s arms back at the White House. He’s fresh out of the shower, his skin warm, the aniseed scent of the shampoo he uses thick as I hold his neck.

  “Everything okay?” he asks.

  I’m not going to break down. I’m not going to let on how much Rick got to me. “It’s fine. I’m just happy to see you.”

  “How was Rick? Attentive, I bet.”

  “He was… not.”

  Mat steps away, looking out the front windows. “I thought so. What did he have to say for himself?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

  Mat snaps around. “Do you want me to pay him a visit? I don’t know we’d have much to talk about, but I sure could use a punching bag. It’s been a while since I skinned these knuckles.”

  “Like that would solve anything. No, we’ve got to be smart about his.”

  I run my hand down Mat’s arm, notice the detail in the tattoo on his bicep. It’s Dympha, the patron saint of the mentally ill. It’s my patron saint. “You never told me when you got this.”

  He turns to look at it. “Mexico, a year into the tour. I don’t know. It seemed fitting.”

  “Were you thinking about me?”

  He sweeps me up in his arms. “Maybe I was, and Mom. Maybe I thought about you a lot when I was away. Maybe that’s why I came home.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  He smiles. “And you’re incomparable.”

  I roll my eyes. “Stop it.”

  He reaches around and grabs my ass. “This?” He lifts me, presses me against the wall. “Or this?”

  I don’t complain. If there’s one thing I need right now it’s a distraction.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MAT

  Andrew is talking legalese, but I get the gist of it.

  “So, what you’re telling me, is that we need to get her re-examined.”

  “That’s right,” says Andrew. “But it’s not going to be easy, Mat. We could wait. The money will—”

  “We can’t wait. We need to get her out of that nuthouse as soon as possible.”

  “Psychiatric facility,” corrects Andrew.

  “Whatever. She can’t stay there. What if we put in a complaint with the state medical board, whatever it is they’re called? I looked into that a little.”

  “So then you know we’d have to wait until her case was heard, and that could take up to a year.”

  “That’s not an option.”

  “How about a petition?” offers Andrew. “You and Sel have a lot of followers, a lot of pull and influence now. You could build public awareness, mention it at the festival perhaps. I mean, the laws do need to be changed. It’s highway robbery what these kind of places are getting away with. The public needs to know it’s not okay. What do you have to lose?”

  I’m about to reject it when I begin to realize it’s not the worst idea. I’m pretty sure Selena would go for it. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” Andrew seems surprised to my answer.

  “Leave the petition to Sel and I. In the meantime, see if you can get another doctor to re-examine Mom. Fingers crossed.”

  “Fingers crossed,” Andrew repeats.

  *

  I walk my fingers up Selena’s back. “What do you think?”

  She talks into the pillow. “I think it’s a great idea. In fact, I was thinking the same thing.”

  “You were?”

  “It’s win-win, isn’t it?”

  “If we get enough awareness.”

  “We’re playing at fucking Magma. It’s a given. Arthur, the festival organizer, was even talking about shifting us to the main stage.”

  I walk down to the soft split between her ass cheeks, pausing there. “I’m finding it very hard to take this all seriously while you’re lying here naked.

  “Isn’t that what your Dad used to do to calm his nerves, picture the crowd naked?”

  I laugh. “Dad had some weird ideas, yeah. I mean, did you see the kind of women that came to his shows? Picturing them naked gives me the creeps.”

  Sel rolls over, her nipples stiff and tawny. “Why don’t you picture me naked?”

  I lie beside her and roll a nipple between my fingers, watching her coo in response, lips parting. “A, because I’d have to spend the entire gig with a raging hard-on, B, because I don’t get nervous, and C, because I have the real thing, right here, right now.”

  “And what are you going to do about it?” Sel teases.

  I run my hand between her legs. “Whatever you want.”

  *

  It’s our last gig at the Bellhopper, a final farewell of sorts.


  “You’re Selena Torres, right?” a girl clad head to foot in denim queries.

  Selena slides across her bourbon and coke. “That’s right.”

  “Why are you still working behind a bar? You’re famous.”

  “It’s my last night,” she replies, tapping the glass. “On the house.”

  Seth would have a heart attack if he knew she was giving away drinks, but he’s had a good run. Already there’s a solid line around the block for people waiting to get in for our performance.

  In a strange way I think Sel’s come to like this job, making an honest living. Dad had me working in a burger joint as soon as I turned sixteen, wanted me to know what real work looked like, the value of money, but Sel? She was too busy heading from one singing lesson to the next, from show to show, comp to comp. I guess that was work too in a way.

  I understand. It’s almost like meditation after a while. Your pour, you spin, take money. There’s something calming about the repetitive mechanics of it all. God knows I’ve poured enough drinks to fill a stadium. It’s the only way I could really make cash overseas given the pittance we were paid for performing.

  I look up at the clock, addressing Sel. “Fifteen minutes. Shall we get ready?”

  Seth even set us aside a small room in the back to prepare for performances. I don’t think he really understood what ‘prepare’ entails for us both, but he’s kept his distance. It’s a good thing the music is loud. I wouldn’t want any complaints from the neighbors.

  That same sexual energy is channeled into our performances. It doesn’t matter how big the crowd is. I’m positive that’s why people keep coming back. Sel and I are more than performers on stage. We’re lovers. That’s something you can’t fabricate.

  As Seth hands over the take at the end of the night, he shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this is your last night.”

  I slap him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll always have fond memories of this place.”

  It’s not sarcasm. I mean it.

  “Actually,” adds Sel. “I kind of like these smaller stages. They’re more…” She licks her cherry lips, turning her eyes towards Seth. “Intimate”.