by Jodie Larson
Forbidden Lyrics
Copyright © 2018 by Jodie Larson
Cover Design by Murphy Rae at Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae
www.murphyrae.net
Interior Design by Champagne Book Design
www.champagnebookdesign.com
Editor: Ellie McLove
www.lovenbooks.com
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incident are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Epigraph
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Other books written by Jodie Larson
The true beauty of music is that it connects people. It carries a message, and we, the musicians, are the messengers.
—Roy Ayers
Will this day never end? Twelve hours of standing on my feet, recording take after take after take, with the producer squawking in one ear while the playback still rings in the other. No one ever describes this part when you dream of making it big in the music industry. You only imagine the flashing lights and screaming fans. Nothing prepares you for the hours spent creating those albums that everyone buys. Or the sacrifices you make to your own well-being in order to make it happen.
Every muscle is on fire. Thank God for callused fingers because peeling skin and bloody guitar strings would suck. At this point, my entire body is one giant knot. Matter of fact, parts of my body I didn’t know existed ached. What I need right now? A good, stiff drink. And food.
Mainly the drink.
After our whirlwind tour, I hoped life would settle down into some sort of normal. Or at least a break. I can’t remember the last time I had an entire day to do absolutely nothing. Well, that’s not true. We had one week when Myles took off without any notice and then came back with a wife. I’ve always said Tatum was the best thing to ever happen to Myles. That was true when we were kids and it’s true now. He’s the lucky one. He married his longtime love.
Some of us aren’t so fortunate.
“One more thing,” Kade says while shutting his guitar case. Myles, Paxton, and I look up and give him our full attention. “Next week is Adrienne’s baby shower back home.”
“And?” Myles huffs, plopping down on a stool.
“And,” Kade says, glaring at Myles, “you’re all required to be there.”
Myles and Pax’s collective groans bounce off the walls. Damn sound-proof room. I can’t help the goofy grin on my face. Obviously, I’m the only one excited. Adrienne having a baby means Kade’s taking time off, which means we all get some R&R. What better place to spend a couple months off than at home?
It won’t be all fun and games, though. The label agreed we could continue working on our album at Kade’s built-in studio. Fucking workaholic. They’re even sending their sound guys to make sure everything runs smoothly.
At least we’ll have a week or two to ourselves when Adrienne finally pops, which should be in a few weeks.
I walk over and give Kade a slap on the back. “I’m assuming we’ll be resigned to the garage during the actual party?”
Kade’s garage is an understatement. Nothing like the garage we used to hang out as teens. He has his own mancave in the loft, complete with a pool table and massive bar.
He smirks. “We’ll have to sneak in at some point, but yeah. Like we’re going to get stuck playing the diaper game.”
Paxton scrunches his nose. “Do I even want to know?”
Kade shakes his head. “From what I was told, it’s guessing what candy was melted in the diaper.”
“Disgusting,” Myles says, snapping the final clasp on his guitar case. “At least the booze will make it tolerable.”
We laugh before going our separate ways. I’m still trying to get used to the hustle and constant movement of Los Angeles. It’s so different than back home in Kansas City. I’m not sure if I’ll ever consider this home. In my mind, it’s always the quiet street we grew up on, where all my childhood memories live.
But just like life, things are changing. With Kade and Myles now married and starting families, they’ve both purchased homes to call their own. Not replacing the ones they still have in Missouri, but something they can settle into while we’re here in California. Pax and I are still single and don’t see a reason to tie ourselves down to real estate. Not yet. The thought of purchasing a house feels a little like I’m letting go of another piece of home and one step closer to becoming an official Californian.
“Meet you back at the condo,” I say to Paxton as he climbs on the back of his new Harley.
He slides the helmet from the compartment and nods. “Sounds good. Not sure if I’ll be there. Thinking of hitting a couple clubs tonight. Need to unwind a little.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Pax is always the first one to suggest going out, yet I never see him come home with anyone. I’m not sure if he has a follow-through issue or if he’s just content on flirting with the women he finds, knowing they’re only interested in him for the wrong reasons. Either way, not my place to judge.
“Sounds good. See you later.” The loud roar of his muffler echoes down the street as he takes off.
I don’t even bother asking Kade and Myles what they’re up to. I know damn well they’ll be busy with their wives. And that’s a thought better left alone.
After securing my bass guitar in the trunk of the rental car the label got me, I take off toward my sanctuary: the beach. I haven’t tried my hand at surfing yet, but the more I watch others doing it, the more it intrigues me. It’s not exactly something Kansas City offered. And since my temporary home is filled with new adventures, I’m all about looking at discovering each and every one.
For example, if someone would have told my barbecue-loving ass I’d enjoy a fish taco a few years ago, I would have beat them senseless. Fish and tacos do not go together. Until I found a place near my condo that was voted as one of the best in the area. One bite and I was hooked. Now it’s a weekly stop when we’re here.
Which is why I’m standing in line with my hat pulled low over my brow, just in case. With the amount of money the label is pouring into us, our fan base keeps growing and growing, creating the risk of getting noticed on the street and limiting our time out. So far it hasn’t been an issue, but as our popularity increases, we need to be more alert to things going on around us.
Jenny, the girl behind the counter, knows who I am, but treats me
like everyone else. She had her moment the first time I walked in here. After an autograph and a selfie, she went back to treating me like every other person who walks through the door.
Her bright smile greets me. “Hey, Breck. Long time no see.” She giggles at her joke and flips her blond ponytail over her shoulder.
I return her smile with a nod. “You know I can’t stay away.” As if on cue, my stomach growls loudly.
Jenny laughs. “The usual?”
“Like I’d have anything else.”
She hits a few buttons on her computer screen and I hand her a twenty. While she breaks the bill, I slide another twenty into her tip jar on the counter.
“How’s school going?” Jenny attends a community college part-time, still trying to figure out what she wants to do with her life. From what I’ve gathered, it’s ranged somewhere between a business manager and cosmetologist. To her credit, she is only nineteen, plenty of time to figure out life.
Jenny puffs her cheeks as she blows out a breath. “Kicking my ass. I decided to go full-time this fall, so I’m taking a few classes I wanted to avoid during this summer session.” She crosses her eyes. Damn, she’s adorable. “Pretty sure I have a brain tumor.”
“It’s not a tumor,” I say in my worst Arnold Schwarzenegger voice. Her laughter bubbles over the din of the patrons inside, even turning a few heads in the process.
“That was terrible! You should work on that.” Just then, a bell dings and she turns to grab a bag in the pass-through window. “There you go. Two number ones and a number four.”
I take the bag from her and tip my hat. “Thanks. And I’ll work on my impressions for next time.”
“You do that,” Jenny calls after me with a wave before turning her attention to the next customer in line.
With my bag in hand, I head to the beach, anxious to get to my favorite spot.
The minute my ass hits the sand, I lose my shoes and pull the first taco from the bag. The swooshing sound against the shore is calming, almost meditative. The crowd is pretty thin, which is good for me. Allows me to eat in peace without having to look over my shoulder every few minutes.
I suppose one of the benefits of living in California is the constant nice weather, allowing me to spend more time outdoors and exploring the neighborhoods and sights. Myles says it’s a waste of time and energy, but he’s also the guy who can’t lose the chip that’s been on his shoulder for almost a decade. Always the one to pick a fight over the smallest things, leaving us to walk on eggshells because you never know when he’d turn his misplaced anger on you. He tried to say he was living the rock star life by partying and hooking up with any available groupie he could, but really, he was mourning the loss of the love of his life. The day Tatum walked out changed him, broke him. Thank God she came back and brought balance back to his life. Well, as much balance as an asshole can have. She keeps him in check.
With one exception: me. But, that’s to be expected. We fight more than any of the other guys in the band. Mainly because I’m not afraid to call him out on his shit. Everyone else chalks it up to ‘Oh, he’s just being Myles.’ Fuck that. There’s no excuse for being an asshole without reason.
Well, there is a small reason. A simple kiss between me and his sister was more than enough to turn him against me and always keep me in his careful watch.
It was once, years ago, but man, he won’t let me forget it. Not that I want to. Lizzie stays on my mind more than I want to admit. The kiss wasn’t magical or anything. A drunken kiss after she drove my intoxicated ass home. Somehow, I managed to sober up enough to not slobber all over her face in her car… in her parents’ driveway. Never once did she freak out or slap me away. In fact, in my foggy memory, I almost think she wanted more. Until Myles pulled me out by my shirt and his fist connected with my right eye. He laid out a warning never to go near her again. In my confused state, I agreed. The timing wasn’t right. She was graduating high school and leaving for college in the fall. Nothing could have happened anyway.
I got my revenge though. Myles’ parting gift of a punch to the stomach left his shoes covered in a nice layer of vomit.
Even if Myles hadn’t threatened me, I knew better. She’s forbidden. It’s Bro Code—or whatever the fuck they call it—that says you don’t date your best friend’s sister unless you want a beating every day for the rest of your life.
I crush the paper bag after I eat the last taco and throw it away in the closest trash can. Staring out at the ocean, I run a hand down my scruffy face and sigh. Still amazes me how often Lizzie comes to mind. The thoughts vary between her as an eight-year-old with pigtails, chasing after the five of us because she wants to tag along; to the woman she’s become now at the age of twenty-six. Both images bring a smile to my face.
With the sun dipping lower into the sky, painting the horizon in various shades of red and purple, I head back to my condo, anxious to lie down and sleep.
That is, until my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to find a text from Paxton.
Pax: Tatum says you need to come out.
Great. They all decided to go out tonight. Which means Myles will be there too. And now that I have his sister on the brain, this will be all sorts of fun. He’ll see my stupid grin and ask what I’m thinking about. I’ll tell him some lie to appease him, and it won’t be brought up again. He doesn’t seem to be any the wiser since that night, though he does bring it up occasionally when he’s drunk. That’s when I gloss over the subject and turn it back on him.
At least Tatum will be there. Someone will be on my side.
Me: Where you jokers at?
Pax: Landslide. You on the way?
Me: Give me twenty.
At least it’s a club with great security so we won’t be mugged every five seconds. It’s gained a lot of popularity within the celebrity spectrum, so chances are there will be even bigger stars than us in attendance.
Making my way to the condo for a quick shower, I resign myself to a night of loud noises, drunken girls, and telling myself that one of them is bound to overshadow the girl in my head.
Same shit, different night. Maybe eventually I’ll believe it.
Done. Finally.
The last chart note is finalized in the system as I spin my chair around, noticing that once again I’m the last person in the office. A reoccurring phenomenon the past three weeks. Everyone ditches me to make sure their final summer plans happen before school’s back in session. Hence, the high volume of patients right now. Apparently, when we send out those reminders for the required vaccinations for school, no one wants to get them taken care of right away. Nooooo, let’s wait until the last minute to get all the well-child checks and anything else that’s required done at the same time.
I need a drink. I’m starting to get salty.
Quinn Olson, one of our nurse practitioners, comes around the corner, blowing her bangs away from her face. “Man, is it the weekend yet?”
“I wish,” I grumble, standing from the chair and stretching my arms as far as I can above my head. A crack in my lower back almost buckles my knees, but I cover it semi-gracefully with a roll of my ankle.
“What was that?” Quinn plops onto the chair, spinning in lazy circles.
I shrug. “Just my back. I don’t really need it for anything.”
“Eh, just be the bottom for a while. Make him do all the work.” She laughs at her joke, knowing full well I’m planning on breaking up with Taylor tomorrow when he comes over.
“You’re so funny.”
“Oh, come on.” Quinn leans forward with a mischievous grin. “What’s wrong with a little goodbye sex? A little tap to send him on his way?”
I shake my head and place the medical tablet on the docking station to charge. “No. One, we haven’t had sex in a couple of weeks. Part of the reason for the breakup.”
“And two?” She snaps the gum in her mouth with each bite.
“And two, the relationship has run its course. The spark isn’t
there.” I pause and tap my chin. “Maybe spark is too much. Dying ember? We really weren’t anything hot and bright anyway. He was there, and I was lonely.”
“Ugh, that sounds like something someone would say about your brother before he got hitched.”
I shudder at the image invading my thoughts. “Gross. Thanks for that.”
Myles Donovan, my not-so-innocent older brother, was painted as the manwhore of his band, Lightning Strikes. Normal people would say their reputation is only for press headlines. In his case, it wasn’t. I’d heard the stories, even though I tried as hard as I could to avoid any news regarding the band. Then Tatum came back into his life. When they were kids, they were inseparable. Now as adults, it’s still the case—except for those couple weeks where she ran away from him again before they got married. Shortly after their elopement, Tatum and I got wasted one night and she told me everything that had happened over the last nine years. I get it. Myles is hard to handle on a good day. Throw something unexpected his way and it’s a crapshoot on how it’ll go.
Everyone treats my brother and his friends like they’re rock gods. Me? They were the ones I used to chase after just to have someone to play with. The five of them were always doing something fun, and I had major FOMO issues at the time. Once I hit middle school, it all stopped. I got friends of my own, girl time that included makeovers and slumber parties. Looking back on it, I realize the girls I hung out with were only friends with me to get closer to Myles and the other guys. Not that they had a snowball’s chance in hell of ever turning their heads. Being four years younger makes you instantly repulsive.
And I know that from experience.
Quinn breaks the silence as she stands from the chair. “You coming next weekend?”
I draw my brows together. “To what?”
“Adrienne’s baby shower.”
“I barely know her,” I say, chewing on my bottom lip.
Quinn looks at me like I’m stupid. “Well, then, now’s the perfect time to really get to know her. Besides, you know Kade. And your jerkwad brother will be there. Thank God your new sister-in-law will be there, too. That’s still weird to say.”
