The Forbidden Beat (A Stepbrother Romance)

by Sterling, Jillian

  "This is tour life," Rafe said. "You don't like it? Don't tour."

  "Get your head out of your ass," she snapped. "That was tour life 10 years ago. Musicians have evolved. We're more civilized now."

  "Now, you're talking serious shit, Presley," Devlin said. He was holding back Melissa's hair while she continued to puke. "Good lord, how much can possibly come up? I'm too old for this shit."

  "I knew touring with chicks was going suck," Dion said. "That's why you bitches should stay home."

  "Stay home?" I fumed. "Like pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen?"

  "Yeah, like get me a chicken pot pie, bitch!" Rafe teased. Dion high fived him. Epic side eye came from both me and Presley.

  "You are such a moron," I said.

  "She's half right. You're both morons" Devlin said. "What the hell do we do with this one now? We're hours from San Francisco, boys. How'd you expect her to get home?"

  Dion and Rafe exchanged glances. Rafe cleared his throat. "Bus fare?" he asked.

  "Not only are you both fools, but you have no sense of honor," he snapped. "Get me something to cover this girl up with. She's got to be freezing in this outfit. And let's call her a cab."

  "Jett, toss me a blanket," Presley yelled into the bus.

  "A cab? To San Francisco?" Dion asked. "She can't afford that."

  "No but you can," Devlin said. "And you're paying the cab fare."

  "That's..." Rafe said, eyes rolled into his head while he tried mental math.

  "That's a piss load of money," Dion interjected.

  "You can afford it," Devlin said, covering her with the blanket Jett brought out of the bus. "Now go pack up her clothes and get your credit card ready. And let this be a lesson to both of you to keep the escapades off the damn bus."

  Dion punched the side of the bus as he walked past me.

  "Chicks on tour," he said, glaring at me. "This is some epic bullshit."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "That was killer!" Presley enthused, shaking out her long hair from its ponytail.

  Jett hid her huge grin with a hand towel while she wiped her face. "No doubt. Almost made me forget about missing this semester. Almost."

  "Did you hear that crowd?" I asked, just as giddy as the two of them. "They didn't even come to see us!"

  "They wanted a freaking encore," Presley shrieked.

  "Good call on Rhiannon," I said.

  "I knew the words from the Fleetwood tour rehearsals," she laughed. "They were like the only lyrics I could remember. I was in such shock."

  "Yeah but punking it up was all you, Nik," Jett said. "That crowd would never have given us a pass on classic rock."

  "Dreams unwind, love's a state of mind," I called out the lyrics. "That can go hardcore, totally."

  "Well, it was fierce," Presley said.

  "Thanks," I said with a smile. Presley didn't hand out many compliments.

  Devlin slipped into the green room. Its grey cement walls were covered by band posters, yellowed and with edges frayed from age. A few Anthem posters peeked out from behind newer bands. The room was sparse, save for an ancient couch and a worn coffee table littered with beer cans and old magazines.

  "Great set, ladies," he said.

  "You ready for me?" I asked, swapping out my soaked wrist bands for a dry pair.

  "We got at least 10 minutes," he said, chuckling. "The boys are nervous about following your set. I think Dion is in the bathroom puking."

  I wrinkled my nose. The dressing rooms were in worse shape than the green room. I didn't even want to pee in there, never mind put my head that close to the toilet. "That doesn't sound good."

  "The puking? No. But the competition does both him and Rafe some good. Rouge Nation's a good band, but they could be a great band. They need to work harder."

  I nodded. "So are you just hanging out until it's time for the set?"

  "I'm here on business, not pleasure," he said with a chuckle. He pulled his smart phone out of his pocket and whipped open the web browser. "You know Alice? That crazy PR rep at the label?" He made a face when we nodded. Everyone knew Alice, and, truth be told, everyone was kind of afraid of her. "She sent me a link to that TMZ website. You know, that gossip one? It looks like the little wench the boys smuggled on the bus last night talked. Those boys are idiots."

  "What'd they write?" Presley asked, peering over Devlin's shoulder to get a look at the website.

  "Well for starters, Satin's Sisters and hell cats were used in a sentence together."

  "Shit," I said, dropping onto the musty couch.

  "Not shit, if you can believe it," he said. "Alice said that once the story popped, she started getting inquiries from journalists about when your album was dropping."

  "No shit?" Presley asked, raising her eyebrows.

  "I shit you not," Devlin answered, chuckling a little at our banter.

  "But there is no album," Jett said.

  "Exactly. Been kind of fun catching that woman with her pants down," he said, not even bothering to mask his enjoyment. "Damn woman's been the bane of my existence since Anthem was first signed. Nice to see her with nothing to say for once."

  Presley, Jett and I shared knowing looks. Alice Monroe, VP of PR for Grimm Records, was a tough-as-nails, no-bull-shit banshee. The Anthem guys were extra careful not to toss out pussy jokes in front of her, she was that terrifying. But she was damn good at her job.

  "So what does this mean?" Jett asked. "For us. Without an album."

  "Grimm wants you to cut an EP. Preferably now. Maybe record a few gigs live..."

  "But we're not signed to Grimm," I said.

  "No you're not. But he's up for releasing your debut EP," Devlin said.

  "Oh hell no," I said.

  "Really?" Presley said. "Is your word final? Because this is not a monarchy and you are not Queen Bey."

  "You mean dictatorship," Jett corrected.

  "Whatever. The point is, that's not her decision to make. It's all of ours."

  "Collectively," Jett added.

  "I am not signing with Grimm Records," I said. "Case closed."

  Presley opened her mouth to argue but Devlin's email alert went off.

  "It's her again," he said, swiping the phone, his mouth tight. "She said someone from KEXP radio just saw your set and wants you in their studio tomorrow for an interview."

  "Fuck me," Presley said, turning white as a sheet. She dropped onto the couch next to me, stuck her head between her legs and sucked in air to keep from passing out.

  "What's KEXP radio?" Jett asked, rooting in her backpack.

  "What's KEXP radio?" Devlin repeated. "Did she just ask what's KEXP radio?"

  Jett shrugged and pulled out book that was five inches thick. "Is that a hard question to answer?"

  "KEXP radio is the most influential alternative radio station in Washington state," I told her.

  "Hell, I'd say Pacific Northwest, if not the entire west coast," Devlin said.

  "It started at University of Washington," I added, knowing that would pique her interest. "WNYC in New York has some sort of partnership with it. It's a huge get for alternative acts."

  "Especially unsigned ones," Presley added, her voice muffled since her head was still between her legs.

  "Oh, wow," Jett said, proving me right. "That sounds kind of great."

  "It's is definitely kind of great," I said, excitement dancing in my chest.

  "So should I tell Dragon Lady you girls want to do it?" Devlin asked.

  "Devlin, you tease," Presley squealed. "Of course we want to do it!"

  "Hang on," I said. "Why is Dragon Lady fielding this? We aren't on any label's artist roster, especially not Grimm's."

  "A favor to Vince, I'd guess," he said. "You are on tour with a Grimm act."

  "And Grimm is paying the bills," Jett reminded me.

  "Don't worry," Devlin said. "You have to sign a contract for Grimm to own your life. And your music."

  "Right," I said, but that didn't stop my
apprehension.

  "I'll get the details," he said. "I know I don't have to tell you girls, but no hard partying tonight. You need to be on form tomorrow. This is a big deal."

  "We know, Devlin," I said.

  "Cool. I'll come and get you when the boys are ready." On his way out, Devlin smacked right into Brian, the EMT from San Francisco. "And who the hell are you and how did you get backstage?"

  "Brian," I said, jumping up from the couch.

  Devlin leaned against the door frame, blocking Brian from entering the room. "Well, then, hello Brian. Who the hell is Brian?"

  "He patched up my knee after I fell at Outside Lands. He's a med student from UC Santa Cruz, right?"

  Brian nodded and Devlin raised an eyebrow. "Pretty long way from Santa Cruz, aren't you Brian?"

  "Huge Rogue Nation fan, sir," he said. "Following the tour for a bit until school starts up again."

  "I see," Devlin said. "I don't see no backstage pass."

  "I told the bouncer I knew Nikki—"

  Devlin cut him off. "And he just let you in?" Brian gulped and nodded. "I'm going to have a talk with Security. You girls okay?"

  "We're good, Devlin," I said. "He's solid."

  Brian refused to turn his back on Devlin until he was out the door.

  "You guys played a hell of a set," Brian said when Devlin was out of the room.

  "Thanks," Presley said, standing up and extending her hand. "I'm Presley. Thanks for looking out for my baby sis."

  "No problem," he said, shaking her hand. Presley beamed. I wanted to crawl into the nasty couch cushions.

  Jett didn't even look up from her book. "Yup, that was righteous."

  "So, KEXP, that's major," he said.

  "How long were you eavesdropping?" I asked.

  "Pretty much the whole time," he said, his lips forming a shy smile. "Dragon Lady."

  "Let's keep that between us." We held on to an awkward silence for a moment. Presley broke it for us.

  "So, I didn't know that Rogue Nation had tour followers, like the Grateful Dead."

  Brian laughed. "Well, it's just me. I think it's just me, anyway. Maybe I'll run into more of me."

  "Maybe," I said. A longer awkward silence. Presley kicked my foot. “So... thanks for the other day. The cut's closed, no infection."

  "You sure?" he asked.

  "Well, I don't see any oozy puss."

  "You are gross," Presley said with a shudder. She was now preening on the couch, composing her next selfie.

  "No oozy puss is good," Brian said with a laugh. "Yeah, well, have a good set with the Nation. Maybe I'll see you at the bar after."

  "Maybe," I said. "See ya."

  He kind of tripped his way out of the room.

  "Ugh. That was painful," Presley said, snapping her pic. "I can't believe I need to give you a lesson on how to talk to boys. You're what? 19 now?"

  "I can talk to boys," I argued. "Just not that one."

  "He gives me the creeps," Jett said, turning a page in her book.

  Presley tossed an old Rolling Stone magazine at her. "You didn't even look up from whatever the hell you're reading. How can you even say he gives you the creeps?"

  "Easy, he gives me the creeps," she said. She closed the book, saving her place by leaving her finger tucked in between the pages and gave me her full attention. "Look, sorry, I know you're their drummer, but only a weirdo would follow Rogue Nation."

  "True, Rogue Nation is not the Dead," Presley, still primping, agreed.

  "And even if they were, I think Dead Heads are kind of weird," Jett said.

  "It's fandom," I insisted.

  ""That's what they do for fun? Chase a musical act across the country?" Jett asked. "Fandom is freaky."

  "Maybe he's a little weird," I admitted. "But he totally saved the day yesterday."

  "Yeah, like you of all people need rescuing," Presley sniffed.

  "I didn't say he rescued me. But I avoided the ER—and stitches—because of him."

  "Fair enough," Jett said, flipping her book open. "But I still say beware. The ones that seem like sweet sheep are usually the wolves."

  Presley snickered. "What the hell are you going on about? Sheep and wolves? He's a fan. A little weird maybe but hey, so are you."

  "He is cute," I mused. "I mean, in a kind of geeky, awkward way."

  "Oh my god. Are you talking to us about a boy?" Presley squealed.

  My eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

  "You never date," she said. "I don't know why. You're a pretty girl. Quirky, but pretty."

  "Quirky?"

  "Your hair is blue," Presley said. "Quirky."

  "Maybe she's pining for someone else," Jett murmured. "Unrequited love."

  The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I thought about Dion. My face went hot when I remembered last night, discovering him in bed with that nearly naked skank straddling his back. He didn't even try to hide her. And why wouldn't it be okay to do something like that in front of me? What were we to each other? I squirmed around an uncomfortable truth. That I wanted to be the one straddling him in that bunk.

  Dion was my band mate. We were on tour together. He was my stepbrother. Whatever was going on between us had to stop.

  "Unrequited love?" I said with a snort. "Are you reading Wuthering Heights again?"

  "Love in the Time of Cholera," Jett said.

  Presley shuddered. "How can there be any love with that many bodily fluids around? And they aren't the fun kind."

  Exasperation filled Jett's sigh but before she could chide Presley for her ignorance, Devlin popped his head in the room.

  He had to raise his voice to be heard over the crowd's chants, which were loud enough to fill the room when he opened the door. "You ready for your second Rogue Nation gig, kid?"

  I snapped up my drumsticks and made a bee-line for the door. I wasn't sure if I was ready for the gig, but I was absolutely ready for a break from my thoughts about Dion.

  "Knock 'em dead," Presley yelled after me as I scooted out of the room.

  CHAPTER NINE

  "Jeeze, Vince, watch it!" Jett yelled as she ducked down, coming dangerously close to the filthy cement floor of Studio Seven's green room. Vince popped open the champagne bottle, and the cork ricocheted around the room, narrowly missing my sister's head. We had just finished the radio interview, which was just down the road from the club, so we stopped by the venue. Since we had the night off, Vince decided we should celebrate in style.

  "Sorry, Jett," he said, handing her the bottle. "You get first swig."

  She waved it away. "Nope, I've gotta study."

  "For that one online class?" Presley asked. "Come on, sis, live a little."

  Jett looked at me for support, but I just shrugged. "Jett, it's not every day bands field offers from labels like SubPop."

  She sighed but took the bottle. When her gulp made it down her throat, we all cheered. She passed it over to Presley.

  "Congratulations, ladies, on a phenomenal start to this tour and an excellent radio interview," Vince said. "I fully expect Grimm to come up with an even better offer now."

  Presley nearly choked on the champagne. "Serious offer?"

  "Like, as in, we had an offer before?" Jett asked.

  "Yes you had an offer," he said.

  Presley smacked him in the arm. "Why wouldn't you tell us?"

  "Because, like I said, it wasn't serious."

  "And now it is?" I asked.

  "You don't think he'd let SubPop jump in and snatch you out from under him?" Vince laughed. "Not when you're out touring with one of his bands!"

  "Is this why you showed up in Seattle?" I asked. "Grimm send you to woo us?"

  Vince arrived in Seattle during our radio interview.

  "No," he said. "I came up to help you field both offers. You want to make the right choice here."

  I bit my lip and looked him up and down. "What if we don't want to sign with Grimm?"

  "Nikki!" Presley said, i
rritation edged her voice.

  "Well?" I said. "What can they offer us?"

  Presley's eyes were still wide. "Money? A huge marketing machine?"

  "Your Instagram selfies are the best marketing we have."

  "Seriously," Jett added. "Your bikini shots break the internet every damn time."

  "This is something you should think through," Vince said. "Instagram bikinis aside SubPop is a well-respected indie label, and if you want indie cred..."

  My "totally" and Presley's "nope" overlapped.

  "But Grimm is a hit factory and a marketing machine, Instagram bikinis aside," Vince continued, winking at Presley, who beamed. "Grimm will get you press coverage, your album will chart, you will get your top ten hits—"

  "He'll match us with the best producers," Presley interrupted.

  "We'll lose our autonomy," I argued.

  "Will the label want you to do it their way?" Vince asked. "Yes. But they will give your ideas serious consideration. But they're banking on their decades of experience."

  I crossed my arms. "I'm not compromising."

  Presley pouted. "What do you think, Jett?"

  "I think we should wait until we hear the actual offers," she said.

  "You were always the sensible sister," I said.

  Presley pouted. "Yeah, no fun."

  "That's just because she didn't side with you."

  "Girls, please, it's like you're all teens again—" Vince said with a laugh.

  Presley motioned towards me. "Well..."

  I stuck my 19-year-old tongue out at her.

  "What I am trying to say is that Jett is right," he said. Jett's face turned smug. "We need to let these guys battle it out then a decision based on what they are offering. Having two options is better than one. WE stand to get a better contract if there's a bidding war."

  "Is this the royal we?" Presley asked. She batted her eyelashes.

  "I want to help," he said, adding, "And no management fee."

  "Well that's refreshing," Dion said as he and Rafe stormed into the room. "He's taking, what, a 25% cut from our income?"

  "We've been through this Dion," Vince said, turning to his son. "Anthem made me more money than I can spend. That 25% goes into an account for you boys. It's near impossible for bands to have longevity these days. You blow through your dough now; you'll have nothing later."