by J. D. Chase
“When I woke up and you weren’t there, I worried. God knows why but I had a feeling that something awful had happened. Then I had Angel and Chad on the phone, asking for news about Scott and fretting about your meeting with whatshisname this afternoon. I almost told them to forget about the meeting, after all, it’s probably the last thing on your mind—”
“Hey,” he said softly, before sealing his lips over mine. “I’m fine. I’m going to the meeting—I wouldn’t let the boys down. Stop worrying, okay? I just need a little time with Carter and then I’ll be right with you. Where are you going to be?”
“I need to drop by mini-Dakota to check on progress with the second apartment and then—”
“No, Issy,” he said, sharply. “I meant where in the building are you going to be?”
I looked at him in confusion.
“You’re not going out alone. We still don’t know exactly what Joel’s up to or where he’s holed up. Drummer Boy is still on the run and now it seems that Ava has vanished into thin air. I want you where I can see you as much as possible, and when you’re not with me, I want you inside this building, preferably in my apartment.”
Ava’s disappeared? What the . . . I stared at him open-mouthed. I drew in a breath to protest at his overprotective stance but he cut me off.
“That’s non-negotiable, Issy. Everything’s fucked up and I’m finding it difficult to concentrate as it is. If I don’t know you’re safe, I’ll never be able to concentrate. And if anything happens to you . . .” His voice broke off and he closed his eyes, shaking his head as if that option was unthinkable.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I don’t like it but, if it means that much to you, I’ll be a good girl and stay inside the building.”
His eyes snapped open. “You mean that much to me. Thank you, Issy. I’m sorry to dash off but Carter’s techies have found something odd that I’ve got to check out. I’ll be done as soon as I can, okay? If you leave the apartment to go and work in my office or whatever, text me and let me know. Okay?”
I nodded and he kissed me and strode off down the hallway. I watched him, feeling increasingly despondent about the whole mess that Joel had created. I’d always felt sad about being an only child but if there was a chance my sibling would’ve turned out like Joel, then frankly, it wasn’t worth it. I realized that Lucas had gone through the door he kept locked. Again, I wondered what was in there that would make him meet with Carter in there instead of his office.
I crept forward, pausing when I got level with the door. I could hear their muted voices and was tempted to make an excuse to speak with Lucas so I could enter. But I figured that Lucas had more than enough on his mind and me disturbing him purely to be nosey wouldn’t help.
I continued into the kitchen, realizing that my stomach had settled because Lucas was back in the building so I made coffee instead. Again, I was tempted to use that as an excuse to knock on the door—innocently offering to make them a coffee whilst peering into the secret room. I decided against it for the same reasons as before.
I took my coffee into the living room, pointedly walking past the secret room as if I were totally disinterested. I sat and pondered the latest news. I wondered whether Ava’s disappearance had anything to do with Joel. He obviously knew about her connection with Lucas, past and present. Maybe he thought she had useful information about Lucas and the club that could help him with his blackmail attempt. Or perhaps he thinks Lucas still has feelings for her . . . well, she certainly still has feelings for him. Would she be brave enough to keep such information to herself? Oh for God’s sake, Issy! Get a grip! You don’t even know if Joel has abducted her!
I stood, deciding to attempt to distract myself with the amazing views that Lucas’ apartment afforded. I managed to push aside thoughts of Ava, but musings about the band going on tour in a couple of days with no idea of Scott’s whereabouts, took over. And then that afternoon’s meeting about a recording contract popped back into my head. How would Denial stand a chance of getting signed if they were missing their drummer? I realized with bitterness that it wasn’t just Lucas’ life that Joel was fucking up . . . it was the hopes and dreams of the whole band too. And what about yours, Issy? That thought made me shudder so I forcefully pushed it to the back of my mind.
*
When Lucas joined me a short time later, he told me there was still no news on Scott or Ava and that Carter was awaiting forensic information about the blackmail photographs. I gasped in awe when he told me they were finding out exactly which photographic paper had been used, which firms used it, where it could be purchased, whether the images were developed or printed and if developed, which chemicals had been used; or, if printed, which inks and printer had been used and so on. This information would then be correlated to narrow down the possibilities which would all be investigated in the hope of tracking down Joel.
Lucas looked as stressed and edgy as I’d ever seen him so when he insisted that I accompany him and Carter to the meeting with the music mogul, I agreed. I figured that the guys needed all the help they could get to secure a deal with a missing drummer, so if it helped Lucas to be calm and relaxed with me there, then I owed it to them. After all, Lucas had only become linked to the band because of me.
Carter drove us in silence. I could feel the tension radiating from Lucas. I attempted to distract him with talk of the structure and décor of the music company’s modern building but he seemed uncharacteristically disinterested. We were ushered into a large waiting area with artistically placed furniture that could in no way compete with the framed photographs and discs covering the walls, charting the company’s successful history. I doubted anyone ever sat on the couches when there was so much to see on the walls. Lucas didn’t sit down but instead paced up and down, seemingly oblivious to the picture history of rock and pop that was laid out before him.
My breath caught in my throat when I realized the personal significance of the discs that dominated the largest wall. I turned excitedly to show Lucas but, just then, we were called to Trey Forbes’ office. Carter remained outside the door. Inside the cavernous room, we found a well-dressed but stony-faced man sat behind a large glass desk. The atmosphere was distinctly chilly and he didn’t bother to get up and shake Lucas’ hand when it was proffered. Instead, he waved it away and bluntly instructed us to take a seat. I sensed rather than saw Lucas tense but, to my relief, he sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“Well, I have to say I’m surprised to see you here today,” he said smugly.
I saw Lucas’ head tilt slightly before he replied calmly, “Can I ask why—since we had an appointment?”
“Well, I have it on good authority that the band you were called here to discuss has found itself without a drummer . . . is that not correct?”
My hopes for the band fell with that remark and I felt for Lucas. He didn’t appear wrong-footed when he replied, “Temporarily, yes. But he’ll be back soon enough and even if he isn’t, we have another drummer lined up who’s just as good.”
I struggled to hold on to my eyebrows, which seemed to want to take flight up to my hairline. I knew Lucas was bluffing. I couldn’t believe his audacity.
“Really?” drawled Trey, in a voice that conveyed his contempt at Lucas’ tactics. “And your replacement drummer’s name is . . .?”
I loathed men like him but I knew that such men could only afford to be so smarmy and smug because they were the best at what they did and saw themselves as everyone else did—untouchable. From the corner of my eye, I saw Lucas lean forward as if to stand and I knew he was about to walk out, taking with him the band’s dream.
Without thinking I replied, “That would be me. My name is Issy Prince.”
In my peripheral vision, I saw Lucas freeze. Believe me, he couldn’t have been more surprised than me at my words.
Mr. Ego threw back his head and laughed. “You? Don’t make me laugh. I know who you are, Miss Prince. You’re his interior designer and . . .
lover.” The way that he said that last word made me want to reach over and slap him. Hard.
Lucas was on his feet in a split second. “Come on, Issy. We’re out of here.”
He stood by my seat expectantly. I felt trapped. If I didn’t comply, it would cause Lucas embarrassment in front of that condescending pig, but if I did, the boys could kiss their hopes of a recording contract goodbye.
“Just a second, if you don’t mind, Lucas. I want to make sure that Mr. Forbes here understands exactly who is walking out of his office without a backward glance—just so that he regrets it sooner rather than later. You see, looking at the memorabilia outside, I realized exactly who he is.” As I spoke, I looked across at him and took in his smarmy, arrogant expression, confident that nothing I could say would affect him in the slightest.
He snickered rudely, his face the image of arrogance. “So you realized who I am . . . then you should know the power I can wield in the music industry. If I choose to put the word out that Denial shouldn’t be signed, then believe me, they never will be. No matter how good they are. So just who is it that is about to walk out of my office? Who shall I lose sleep over when I regret my actions? Hmm?”
“I’m the daughter of the guy who put this company on the map. The guy who made your father a somebody . . . the reason you have any power in the industry at all. And I’m the goddaughter of three of your board members. Surely you can figure it out.”
His face was blank. What an egotistical slimeball! I realized he had no clue who I was talking about. His job had been handed to him on a plate. His father had done all of the hard work, building up the record company and taking a chance on an unknown band that had paid off, catapulting them all into the major league.
I gave him a scathing look and stood, pulling myself up to my full height, my eyes not leaving his. “Perhaps you should acquaint yourself with the history of the company you head up now that your father has stepped down. May I suggest you start with the shiny platinum and gold objects that adorn the walls of this place? My dad was responsible for most of them.”
Just as I began to turn away, I saw the confusion on his face begin to clear, replaced first with comprehension and then with disbelief. “You’re . . . you’re Bryan Prince’s daughter?”
It was my turn to be smug. “I am indeed. And I’m sure you can figure out that that makes me Joe, Tommy and Bill’s goddaughter. You know, those three board members I mentioned . . .” I allowed him time to digest this information and watched him shrink from the egotistical, arrogant douchebag that had believed he had the upper hand when we’d first met, to a humbled, respectful businessman.
I think Lucas quickly figured it out too—or at least noticed the deflation—because he sat down confidently and pinned Trey with a determined gaze. What followed was quite incredible. Lucas managed to negotiate a fantastic five-album recording contract for the band in no time. He skilfully managed to smooth over the potentially deal-breaking issue of Scott’s absence, whilst not allowing Trey to pin me down to the role. He also demanded to know how Trey knew about Scott going AWOL, but it seems that Trey had received the information from an anonymous caller. Given that so few knew about Scot doing a runner, I automatically assumed that the caller was Joel, until Trey mentioned it had been a woman.
At Lucas’ insistence we waited while the contract was prepared and signed by Trey and then, as Trey waited expectantly for Lucas to sign, Lucas informed him that he’d need his legal team to examine the contract before he consulted with the band members to see whether they were prepared to accept the terms.
When he finished, both Trey and I were open-mouthed. Trey recovered first. He stood and held out his hand, informing Lucas that he admired his balls, which made me have to turn away to stifle a snicker. When I turned back, Lucas’ eyes were dancing with mirth as he shot me a cheeky wink. A warmth spread through me—that was the first time Lucas had been happily relaxed in a while and it was felt good to be a part of the cause.
Chapter Thirteen
His good humor continued when we left the office. After stopping briefly to peruse the platinum and gold discs that had proved so helpful for the band professionally, and for me on a personal level, Lucas insisted that I fill him in properly as Carter drove us back to the Orion Building. I told him about my regular chats with my godfathers—we’d been in regular contact since Lucas had thoughtfully arranged the reunion. In one, just a few days before, Joe had happened to mention that the guys were now all board members of the record company that had signed Stag all those years ago.
Lucas’ face was a picture when I told him that Joe had offered to get Denial a foot in the door, but I’d told him that Lucas was doing just fine as their manager. I didn’t tell him that I had a strong feeling they’d all rather get a record deal on their own merit even though I thought he’d understand—he’d been a member of an unknown band at one time, after all. But I told Lucas, who beamed and said that he too wanted the band to make it on their own because they were good enough. I teased him, saying he wanted the kudos of getting them a fairly earned record deal. His mock indignation told me I was spot on.
Lucas suggested that we go out for a meal at the Four Seasons to celebrate and to wind down after a fraught couple of days. I said there was no way that we could do that— we had to tell the band immediately, and besides I needed to practice with them if I was going to have to go on tour as their drummer. Lucas looked aghast. Apparently, he’d thought I was bluffing. I wasn’t surprised, after all, hardly anyone knew I could play. I’d secretly learned in high school after I’d appeared to have a natural talent. I’d watched Scott closely too and had picked up his sticks and practiced when nobody was around. It had also helped me to feel closer to my dad. I wasn’t in Scott’s league but I could hold a rhythm and I knew most of Denial’s songs, especially the older stuff. I’d played along to their self-recorded tracks often enough when I was alone, admittedly not for a while though.
I asked Lucas how the hell he thought he was going to find a drummer who could learn all the band’s material in forty eight hours. He just shook his head, presumably at his own stupidity, but it could have been him showing his displeasure at the idea of me going on tour. I had to admit, the idea made my stomach churn. I was secretly banking on Scott reappearing and proving his innocence, unlikely though it seemed. But I couldn’t let the guys lose their tour booking. They’d have been devastated, although I had no idea how they’d react to the prospect of me joining them temporarily. Only one way to find out!
Lucas called ahead to Chad and asked the band to meet us at his Queen’s Club with all their gear. Chad pointed out that Scott had taken his van so there was no way of getting his drum kit to the club. Lucas calmly told him to call in a favor, or call a cab, whatever it took but to make sure the drum kit was at the club within half an hour. I grimaced slightly as I imagined a chastened Chad quivering in his boots when the call ended. He’d been given an order by his idol. I was sure he’d comply.
Sure enough, when we arrived at the club, the drum kit was on the stage. Chad, Ethan and Travis were huddled around a table, whispering animatedly. They all looked stressed out. I knew it was hardly surprising, given that they were about to head off on tour and their drummer was missing. Travis looked up as soon as we neared the table.
“What the hell’s going on, man? Where the fuck is Scott?” he asked, clearly desperate for news.
“I’m sorry, Travis. I’ve no idea where he is,” Lucas replied with a shrug.
Ethan threw his head back and sighed heavily before saying, “Well that’s it. The tour’s fucked.” Then he stood abruptly and announced, “I’m going to get pissed. Who’s with me?”
“Sit,” commanded Lucas, his eyebrow raised as he waited for Ethan to comply.
Ethan frowned, looked like he was going to ignore Lucas, but then must have thought better of it. He sat down sulkily.
“Thank you,” Lucas said with a slight nod of his head. “I know it looks like the to
ur is off because we can’t rely on Scott turning up in time.”
My stomach clenched but, after looking at Ethan and Travis’ faces, it was apparent that they didn’t know about the confrontation between Lucas and Scott before he disappeared. I looked to Chad who was pointedly staring at his sneakers.
“So you have a new drummer,” continued Lucas, enthusiastically. “A temporary new drummer,” he added quickly.
“What?” chorused Ethan and Travis.
“How in fuck’s name can we have a new drummer less than forty eight hours before we set off on tour? They won’t have time to learn any of our material. That’s fucking madness,” cried Travis.
“That’s a fucking understatement,” muttered Ethan.
Lucas remained expressionless. “What if they already know most of your material? And they’re willing to practice with you to learn the rest?”
Travis snickered. “I’d say the chances of that are about the same as winning the goddamn lottery.”
“Well, Travis my friend, it looks like you’ve just won the lottery because your new drummer knows your material well and she’s willing to learn the rest,” Lucas said, before waiting, raising his eyebrows in anticipation of Travis figuring it out.
“So where is he?” Travis grunted sullenly.
“Er . . . she, Trav. He said she,” Ethan supplied, before looking from Lucas to Chad, who was frowning at Lucas.
When none of them made the connection, I marched over to the stage, calling over my shoulder, “That’s right. Let’s get started shall we?”
Silence.
I shook my jacket off my shoulders and adjusted the height of Scott’s stool before sitting on it and picking up his drumsticks. I glanced over at the group who were all standing and staring at me as if they’d seen a ghost. I laughed and began to hit out the rhythm of my favorite Denial song. I tried to keep my eyes on them, to see what they made of it but I was soon lost in the rhythm and the pure pleasure of playing.
