by Jesse Jordan
“Mommy,” Bella asks, tugging on my hand. She's five and a few months now, and while she's started to just call me 'Mom' instead of Mommy, the shock of seeing so many people pushes her back into a comforting word. “Mommy, are there a million people up there?”
“No, honey, but it sure feels that way, doesn't it?” I ask. Bella's got her headphones on, I only allow her close to a concert if she's got high-level headphones on, and being the good kid she is, she doesn't argue about it too much. “I checked right before we came, Larry says that they sold a lot of tickets though.”
Bella nods then looks around. “Where's Daddy?”
I smile, the word still making tears come to my eyes. In the past three months, all on her own, Bella's started calling Rocky 'Daddy,' the first time when the three of us were at lunch together with both Rocky's parents and mine, all the adults stopping. Rocky actually broke down crying, kissing Bella on the forehead and hugging her tight. That night, we made love for hours, both of us fueled by the passion and warmth of that word.
“Daddy's getting ready with Ian and Joey,” I tell her, kneeling down. “Now, do you remember what I told you about how the concert's going to work?”
“The warm-up band's going to go play, then Daddy and Joey and Ian are going to do their part of the concert. And I have to wear my headphones the whole time,” Bella replies dutifully. “If I can't do that, I need to go with Mr. Olson up to the press box.”
“Very good. And if you don't listen to him?” I ask, arching an eyebrow. I've never had to do it, but I won't risk Bella's safety or health bringing her to a concert.
“Then I'm in big trouble,” Bella says. “But you don't have to worry Mom, I'm going to be good.”
“Okay, then headphones on, here comes the opening act,” I say, putting my own earplugs in. I stand back, watching on the big screen on the other side of the field to see what the fans do as the opening act goes into their number. They do their job, getting the crowd warmed up and giving the ticket holders their money's worth. Looking out on the swirling lights and watching the lead singer do her thing, I have to admit they're at least catchy.
When they finish up, the crowd cheers them hard, and I'm glad. They've got a bright future, and who knows, maybe someday they'll be the headliners of their own tour. It is one of the things that I've learned over the year plus that I've been the manager and producer for the guys. Music isn't as dog eat dog as people like to think it is. As long as you're making good stuff, there's plenty of room at the top for everyone.
“Ready?” I ask Bella, tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention. I see Larry coming up in the wings, and I give him a thumb’s up. “Nice find, Larry.”
“You can thank George T for that,” Larry says. “Hey, Rocky asked me to come over here to the wings, do you know why?”
I shake my head, curious. He's been acting strange all day, I figured it was just something to do with the huge concert, which kicks off our North American summer tour. But what's he up to?
“Don't know!” I yell, then realize that Larry doesn't have ear plugs in, and lower my voice. “Sorry. I don't know. Guess we'll find out because here they are.”
Ian and Joey come around, Joey looking so unlike his normal sweet self that Bella does a double take before laughing, making Joey laugh too. The stage director gives them the signal and they go on stage, Rocky emerging from the other wing to the chants and cheers of the crowd. They're scheduled to kick off with Limitless, their new single off the upcoming album, but instead of tearing into the fast track like I'd watched in practice, Rocky holds up a hand. “Thank you, Los Angeles! How're you all doing tonight?”
The roar is nearly physical, and Bella quickly pulls her headphones back on, making me half cringe, I'd forgotten. Rocky waves until the crowd quiets down, then continues. “Ladies and gentlemen, first off, I'd like to apologize to the lighting guys and the other concert folks, I'm calling an audible on tonight's show.”
“What the hell's he doing?” Larry asks, and I shrug, shaking my head.
“I have no idea,” I reply, looking over. “Do you know anything?”
Larry shakes his head, and we look back out on stage. Joey and Ian are both relaxed though, and I think I can see Ian grinning. Obviously, they're in on it, whatever 'it' happens to be.
“You know, it's been one hell of a year for the Fragments,” Rocky says after a moment, smiling. “And for me especially. Now, you guys give me, Joey, and Ian a lot of credit, but I'd like to bring out someone who really is the engine behind our success. She's the woman who's written some of the songs you guys love most, and she's also... well, she's a lot of things to me. Producer, manager, and love of my life. So, Cora Clearwater, will you join us on stage?”
My eyes go wide, and I stare, shocked as Joey unslings his guitar and comes over, grinning. “Come on Cora, we'll take care of you.”
“But, but... I'm in jeans and a t-shirt!” I protest, and Joey laughs.
“So's Rocky, Muse. You can do it, I'll be there with you,” he says, his kind voice totally different from the almost scary makeup he's got on. “You're gonna love this. Besides, with the lights the way they are, you can't see the crowd, so just imagine it's the four of us out there.”
I look down at Bella and pat my daughter on the head. “You stay with Larry.”
“Okay, Mommy,” she says, taking Larry's hand. He looks surprised for a moment, then smiles down affectionately. Taking a deep breath, I let Joey lead me onto the stage, the roar of the crowd buffeting me. As I walk out, a roadie appears, maneuvering another mic stand on stage, and Rocky grins, meeting me halfway across the stage to take my hand.
“What are you doing?” I ask, Rocky's smile never faltering until he has me in the middle of the stage, the two of us in the middle of the huge spotlight before he speaks again.
“Folks, this woman... she's become the heart and soul of the Fragments. And well, the song that really launched us, I know you guys have listened to it a ton of times, she wrote it. Now, it wasn't because she's such a great songwriter, she is, but because she's such an amazing woman. I used to not like the press, but for those of you who keep up with things, Cora and I have been together for a little while now, and well...”
The whole crowd roars, and I can't believe it as Rocky gets down on one knee, pulling a slim box from his back jeans pocket. I'm trying not to cry, but I lose it when Rocky opens the box and shows me the platinum and diamond ring inside, sparkling in the spotlight. “Cora Clearwater, you're my heart, the sun of my soul, the strength in my life. You've loved me for longer than I can believe still, and your patience, your kindness makes me the richest man in the world. Will you marry me?”
I nod, unable to talk, tears of happiness falling down my face as Rocky takes the ring and slips it on my finger before standing up and embracing me. The roar of the crowd doubles when Bella runs out and we make a family hug, both of us kissing her before I set her down, and start to lead her off stage. Rocky stops me though, not letting go of my wrist. I turn to look as Bella runs off stage with Joey's help again, wondering what the hell Rocky wants.
When Bella's out of the spotlight, Rocky brings his microphone back up. “Just a moment, Cora. I'd like to tell the people here a story, and I need your help.”
I turn back, and while I can hear the crowd, I don't see anything but Rocky, and his green eyes see nothing but me as we wait until there's almost silence in the Coliseum. “You see, Cora and I, we've known each other since we were both thirteen years old. And we quickly became best friends. For Cora though, it became more. I was too blind to realize it, though. All I could think about was the promise we'd made to each other, that we'd make hit records together. And our senior year, I still didn't realize it consciously at the time that Cora loved me. So, one night, Cora wrote a poem, a song lyric. We went our separate ways after that for a while, until God, fate, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, whatever you want to call it, brought us back together to work on an album for the Fragments.�
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I'm crying, smiling as Rocky goes and gets the spare mic that the roadie had brought on stage, still talking. “One night, towards the end of the recording, we were stuck, looking for that one last song to finish out the album. Cora and I were discussing it, and in a move that took more guts, heart, and love than I think I'll ever see again, she shows me this notebook. In it was the song lyrics she wrote for me. And it was those lyrics that became... well, it became Four Letters.”
The crowd roars as Rocky holds out the mic to me. “Now, I'm going to give you a choice, Cora. If you like, I'll sing the normal version for you, the one that all these people know. But... but there's another version, isn't there?”
I swallow, and nod, raising the microphone to my lips, barely able to whisper. “Yes.”
The roar of support from the fans is overwhelming, and it's Rocky's turn to grin. “Cora... my love, my Muse, my soul... would you do a duet with me?”
I nod. We've sung it so many times together, and I've sung my part around our house, or in the studio with Rocky just for fun. But that's what this is, not a concert, just fun with the man I love. I smile, and look at Rocky's face, raising the microphone to my lips again and clear my throat, singing a capella.
The light is so bright
But still, you can't see
The glare has blinded you
It's kept you from the truth...
Joey and Ian come in with their parts as the song shifts to Rocky, who does his answering verse, and the two of us sing the chorus together. It's powerful, and all I see is him as we soar, flying on the notes high above the stadium. I can see our future, I can see the love. I can see the family we're going to have, and the baby that I haven't told him about that's growing in my belly yet. I just found out today and was going to tell him after the concert. I think that plan's going to have to change.
The song shifts, triumph replacing the sadness, and Rocky and I sing the final verse together. The one that nobody except for Ian and Joey has ever heard before, the verse we wrote when we didn't know... except we always knew.
And now we stand together,
The pain is gone forever,
Lying here in your arms,
Each mistake celebrated together
How could they break our hearts?
Those four little letters
The four letters that used to hurt us so?
When we opened our eyes to the truth,
And saw the four letters of love,
In the six letters of friend.
The last notes, harmonized together, fade away into the suddenly quiet Los Angeles night, and I step forward, putting my arms around Rocky's neck and kissing him tenderly. The crowd roars, and he doesn't hear me at first when I whisper in his ear. When I step back, he's smiling, but confused. “What?”
I raise my microphone up one last time and smile. “I said... I love you. And... Rocky, you're going to be a father. I'm pregnant.”
The roar this time is full-throated from all sixty plus thousand people, and Rocky drops his mic, hugging me tightly. He's sobbing for joy, and it takes him five minutes to control himself before he can pick up his microphone again. “Oh, my God. Okay... uh, well... wow.”
I think I surprise Rocky, Joey, Ian, and everyone when I speak again. “Now, if you want to give me an engagement gift, I've got an idea.”
“What?” Rocky rasps into his mic, still wiping at his eyes.
“Give these people the best concert of their lives. You're a rock star. So, go rock.”
Rocky nods, and turns his face back to the crowd as I step back, the spotlight following me until I step off stage and back into the wings. I'll never forget it, my moment in the limelight, but at the same time, I'm glad to be back in the shadows, watching as Rocky gives the darkened wings a glance again, then turns to Joey and Ian, giving Ian the signal, starting with the driving beat of their new song, Limitless. Because that's what our future is.
Limitless.
Want to read Joey & Andrea’s Story + Ian & Mary’s story? Keep reading!
Joey & Andrea
Chapter 1
Andrea
I look in the mirror on my desk again, trying to decide if I should wear the non-prescription glasses or not. They've got big black frames, and with them, I certainly appeal to the geekier guys in my line of work. I swear they're the reason that I got the interview with the guys at ComicCon that actually got most of my co-workers to take me seriously and not just see me as the boss's daughter, warming a seat before I get pulled up the corporate ladder. So, in some ways, the glasses are kind of my good luck charm.
But.... Joey Rivera isn't in video games. I don't know, maybe he is into video games, that'll be something I can find out today. I can't freak out about this though. Instead, I pull up the information I've got about Joey on my computer, reviewing as best I can. The problem is, while the Fragments might be one of the hottest rock bands to come out of California, almost everything publicly available about them is about their lead singer, Rocky Blake. A lot of that is that Rocky's got the look of a rock front man. Tall, ripped, with the right blend of brooding good looks and bad boy reputation, he was the publicity focus of the Fragments' old manager up until last year.
That all was before Four Letters, the album that landed them on top of not just the rock charts, but the Billboard Top 100, something that in today's world of formula pop doesn't happen that often. About that time, they changed managers, with Cora Clearwater taking over. She’s Rocky's love interest, who doubles as the band's producer as well as manager now. And, in a move that left even my heart beating a little faster, it was so romantic, Rocky proposed to Cora three months ago at the debut concert for their new album Limitless. Limitless dropped six weeks ago and is on pace to outsell any rock album of the past decade, making Four Letters look like just the starting point for them.
So, with Cora taking over as manager, and Gashouse Records hiring a new publicist for the band, James Vandenburg, they want to open the band more too. They want their fans to know more about them. Which is why I'm getting this sit-down with Joey.
“Hey 'Dre, whatcha working on?” Harry Bethlehem, one of the other reporters for The Los Angeles Pulse newspaper and LA LifeBeat magazine, asks as he comes up, his almost ever-present can of Arizona Iced Tea in his hand. Either that or an energy drink, I'm pretty sure the rail think black man lives off of sugar and caffeine only. He looks at my monitor, chuckling when he sees a photo of Joey in his concert getup from the Fragments' last concert of the first wing of their North American tour in Dallas last Saturday night. They just got back into Los Angeles three nights ago, and this is the first media access any of the band has granted since getting back. “Ah, the Dark Prince of Rock.”
“You know Harry, you keep trying to assign everyone nicknames, this isn't hip-hop,” I reply teasingly. Harry's found himself in the same dead end that a lot of black reporters do starting out, namely being shoehorned into supposedly 'black' areas.
Thankfully, Harry and I get along well, and we've reached that sort of professional respect that allows us to relax and sometimes tease each other without being worried about stepping on feelings.
I think it's because Harry and I can both see that we're sort of trapped, him by his skin tone and me by my parentage, and both of us realize it's unfair, and unchangeable in the short term at least. Harry holds his hands up, winking. “Honey, you should be proud of the fact that I call you 'Dre. Think of all the legends in entertainment that have that name.”
I flash Harry the crossed fingers 'W' for 'Westside' that Dr. Dre and other gangsta rappers made famous, and Harry laughs. “Whatcha think, am I down enough?”
Harry, who is not a Cali native, but comes from the mean streets of St. George, Utah of all places, laughs. “You down, 'Dre, you down. You'd be the baddest girl I know back home. So, Joey huh? What's the angle?”
“The band's on a pause in their North American tour. It'll give Rocky Blake and Cora Clearwater a chance to tie
the knot, and figure they'll take that time off, pick up again after the New Year. Instead of concerts, everyone's spending money on gifts, food, Halloween costumes.... speaking of which, what's your thoughts for this year?”
Harry's famous for pulling off some epic costumes. The same time I went to ComicCon for the interviews that got me respect, Harry went on his own, for fun... dressed as Lando Calrissian. “I'm thinking I'll be either Green Lantern, or maybe go the other way and do Sinestro. You know, I'm just not quite buff enough to pull off the John Stewart Green Lantern. Or bald enough.”
I shake my head, chuckling. “Either way, I bet the boys out at ILM are just waiting for you to show them how to really pull off something epic.”
Harry nods, then points back at my computer screen. “So, what's your angle?”
“I talked it over with James Vandenburgh, their publicist, he said that Joey's willing to open up about his past, totally in private. So, I'm going for the whole 'get to know Joey Rivera' deal, a human-interest story. I mean, he's got a lot of female fans out there who want to know more about him. Other than his music, and the fact he's Puerto Rican, there isn't a lot about him out there. A lot of fans want to know.”
Harry nods. “Yeah, P-R boys aren't all that normal in rock. You gonna push him hard?”
I shake my head, leaning back in my chair. “No way, Harry. This isn't an exploitation piece, and James was totally clear, I can ask Joey anything I want, but this isn't to dig up dirt, but to give a profile on him.”
“So, a cotton candy piece for the Sunday Supplement,” Harry teases, making me roll my eyes in frustration. “Sorry, I know you don't like that sort of job.”
“No, I know what you're saying, and yeah, it's probably going to run in the weekend editions, maybe in LifeBeat, too if I can find some meat to it. So, while it's not going to be a hit piece, I'll dig for something interesting while keeping it nice, if Joey's a nice guy. I just don't know. I mean, Joey's the mystery man of the group. What the hell do you ask a guy who comes out on stage looking like something between Dracula and The Matrix, shreds guitar so hard that he needs backups on stage for when he pops strings during solos, yet goes on MTV looking like a totally normal guy? Hell, at least there's some public information about Ian.”
