by Eden Summers
“We want more publicity. More hype. More sales. We want you to reach your potential.”
“Let’s cut the crap.” Leah strode forward. “Seeing as though you were unsuccessful in convincing the guys to re-sign, you’re trying to bleed them dry before their contractual obligations are over.”
“We made Reckless into what it is today. We deserve a substantial return on our investment.”
Mason’s eyes widened in fury. The lead singer had a low threshold for label bullshit after what his fiancé, Sidney, had been through. She’d been dumped and discarded from her contract after a public scandal involving a highly viewed sex tape. Ryan had no doubt the situation was a main contributor for Reckless choosing to go indie for the next album.
“A substantial return—” Mason spat.
Leah held up a hand, cutting him off. “What are you suggesting?”
“We’ve already thrown around a few ideas.” Scott rested into the sofa, smug. “We want you to create a talking point. Even a scandal. We need you to milk the free publicity train as much as possible.”
Ryan chanced a cautionary glance at his best friends. Free publicity was rarely a good thing. Not emotionally, anyway. Free publicity meant a reporter could pick and choose what information they gave to the public. It meant spinning and twisting facts. It meant opening your soul to the devil and hoping they didn’t expose something you’d prefer to keep quiet, like a drug scandal or a cheating claim. Free publicity was fucked, and they all knew it.
“I was thinking a feel-good interview with Gabi and Blake about the pregnancy,” Scott continued. “We all want to know what’s going on with the little bub.”
Blake glared. “Are you fucking kidding me? Gabi has been—”
Leah raised her hand again, the simple command enough to cut Blake off with a grunt. “Gabi is off limits.”
All of them would be united in her declaration. There was no disputing Blake’s wife had already been through enough turmoil lately, along with moving her life from Australia to the US. The further Gabi remained from the spotlight, the better.
“That’s non-negotiable,” Leah continued. “So what’s your next suggestion?”
Scott turned his focus to the lead singer. “How about leaking a date for Mason’s wedding?”
“No way.” Mason slumped into the sofa across the back wall. “I put a ring on it. That’s all Beyoncé said I had to do.”
Scott released a bark of laughter. Nobody else encouraged the humor. “Then maybe a staged proposal from our most recently attached band member.”
“Pass.” Sean’s scowl spoke louder than words. He hadn’t been with his choreographer girlfriend, Melody, for long. They were still in the smitten, can’t-breathe-without-speaking-to-you stage. There was no way the drummer would let her take a bullet. “Hard pass.”
“What about you, Mitch? Do you have any news that could stir some free publicity?” Scott didn’t pause. “We need something.”
“I’ve got nothing for ya,” Mitch grated through clenched teeth. His wife, Alana, was the official band photographer and the longest standing woman on the tour apart from Leah. Even though more shows would affect their relationship the least, Alana would probably be the worst equipped to handle public scrutiny due to her secluded upbringing.
“I guess that leaves it up to you, Ryan. Which is perfect, really, seeing as though you’re now the only single member of the group. Our publicity team already had an idea in place, but with the pending divorce I thought your friends would be more willing to take the limelight.”
The weight of the room fell on Ryan’s shoulders. Everyone stared at him with vastly differing looks—one with cunning, others in horror or rage. Leah merely took him in with the unaffected stare she’d perfected. Almost perfected. He was sure he glimpsed the slightest hint of panic in her blue eyes. “I’ve never taken the fall before. It’s only natural I do it now.”
He spent years honing his reputation. He was the gentleman, the one who vowed to honor his marriage, and more importantly, his wife. And that’s the way he’d wanted the world to see him. He refused to be another celebrity cliché surrounded by sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll. He’d only ever indulged heavily in one, and it definitely wasn’t the sex or the drugs. In fact, he’d never tried an illegal substance more than once, and he’d been the only one enthusiastic about polishing the family jewels for a damn long time.
“What’s this idea you’re talking about?”
“Well, there are a few options.” Scott’s lips curved in a gradually building smile. It was sinister. Repulsive. “We can focus on your divorce. The legal battle has already dragged on for months, so it’s not like it’s a secret that you and Julie can’t come to terms with the settlement…”
“No.” Not an option. He wasn’t going to do anything to poke his ex’s already accomplished bitchiness.
“Or we can kill two birds with one stone and hook your newly single ass up with the lead singer of your opening band. Slicker isn’t building the media presence we’d hoped for, so placing the two of you together with a few dates in public places, maybe a scandal here and there, will boost both your popularity and theirs.”
“You want us to waste our time promoting another band?” Mason placed his hands on the top of his head, his knuckles white, his waning restraint evident. “This is ridiculous.”
Ridiculous? Yes. But Ryan was still stuck on the unfamiliar concept of dating. He hadn’t been through those early relationship stages since he was a teen. “What happens if I refuse?”
“Then we’ll recoup our losses with more tour dates.”
“Fuck off,” Blake spat. “We planned those dates for a reason. I’m not going to miss the birth of my child if the tour gets extended.”
“We could fill the spaces in the schedule first.” Scott pushed from the sofa and stood. “You’ve got vacant two-day blocks in there that can house more concerts.”
“Those two-day blocks were arranged to allow Blake to get back to see his wife. Not to mention we’re legally obligated to give the crew and bus drivers a break.” Leah was the voice of reason. The classy, professional calm that kept them from tearing this guy apart. “They also give Mason and Sean the opportunity to catch up with their partners.”
“We can get more crew members.” Scott waved away the claim with a lazy hand. “And fly the wives in for a few nights.”
“Gabi can’t fucking fly, asshole.” Blake tensed his fists. “We won’t place any risks on this pregnancy.”
“And I won’t place any regard on the love life of my artists. I’m not here to facilitate your libido. If the demand is there, we’ll be scheduling more shows wherever the hell we want them.”
Blake inched forward, closing in on trouble. “You can’t do that.”
But they all knew he could. When they’d first signed as an unknown band, the label had put them through hell more times than Ryan could remember. Spite from their camp wasn’t new. It was merely a distant memory since they’d begun making millions.
Scott raised a brow. “You might want to re-read your contract.”
A chorus of profanity erupted. There were threats of violence, clenched fists, friends holding friends back from committing murder.
“Calm down.” Leah raised her voice. “Just calm down.”
Ryan swallowed over the building anger while the vicious snarls took moments to die, leaving the room saturated in palpable fury. Scott remained smug, the power firmly in his grasp because he still had a contract hanging over their heads until the tour was complete.
“More concerts are impossible.” Leah raised her chin and crossed her arms over her distracting chest. “You need to give us more options.”
“You should’ve thought about that before declining our last offer.”
“Fuck you.” Blake’s curse reverberated off the walls like an avalanche. “This is bullshit.”
“It’s OK.” Leah placed a hand on his arm, guiding the bass guitarist back from t
he brink with a mere flash of her lashes. “Go to the hotel and let me deal with this.”
“No. I need to know what’s happening. I need to know what I’m going to have to explain to my wife.”
Leah leaned in and whispered in Blake’s ear. The guy winced at her words and the fight left his shoulders. There were brief seconds where the two of them were side by side, the entire room watching, waiting for the final response that came in a succinct nod, stormed footsteps across the room, and finally a slam of the door in Blake’s wake.
Ryan had been there before. He’d been the one in his friend’s shoes, the one prepared to rip his hair out for the sake of the woman he loved. And just like now, Leah had always pulled him back from insanity and made everything peachy again. She was Wonder Woman, only better, and a hell of a lot sexier, too.
“This is pretty fucking rough,” Mitch muttered.
Ryan nodded at the understatement. Over the years, the industry had fallen to shit at their feet, while Reckless continued to grow and make Grander millions. They’d done their part. They’d paid their dues. They shouldn’t be punished for wanting a better contract next time around—one that Grander refused to give.
“I’ll do it.” He glared at Scott and hoped the guy had a clear picture of his disgust. He hadn’t wanted to open his mouth and take the fall, but their choices were vanishing like booze at an after party. He was the only single member of the band. His friends all had loved ones waiting at home, and he was well aware of how tour headlines could mess with a relationship. Hell, they’d probably mess the shit out of his divorce, but what was the alternative? “I’ll date this woman and help lift her profile, but you need to back off on the tour.”
“Grander will want more than a few dates. We want results.”
Ryan chanced another look at his friends. Mason was minutes away from needing police intervention. Mitch was pale with worry, while Sean was gazing into space, his nostrils flaring. Then there was Leah. Beautiful, protective Leah. She was focused on him, her emotions hiding under the full-time professional façade.
“And you’ll get them.” He turned back to Scott. “I can put her on the paparazzi radar, and the rest of the guys can help build hype on social media. It will skyrocket their visibility. You can’t put a price on that sort of early publicity to a band’s career.”
“I agree.” The smirk was back on Scott’s face. “But if you’re unsuccessful, we’ll have the extra tour dates on standby.”
“Nope.” Ryan stood tall, adamant, determined and oh-so-close to telling this guy what he really thought. “I won’t do it with that hanging over my head. If I’m risking everything and I have to fake-date someone during the middle of a divorce, I want assurances.”
“Then I guess we’re at a standstill.” Scott shrugged. “Grander won’t be happy with a vague pledge that you’ll build hype.”
“Make them happy with it.” Mason dropped his hands to his sides. “You need to think long-term instead of instant gratification. Of course we can fill more tour dates. Nobody will dispute that. But once we’re gone, we ain’t comin’ back. Take this opportunity for us to create your next big name, otherwise it could be years before you get another chart topper on your list.”
“Could you commit to making Slicker a chart topper?” Scott’s focus switched from Mason to hit Ryan head on.
That was a huge ask. God-damn monumental. The market wasn’t what it used to be. The influx of indie artists and the inexpensive marketing of social media meant anyone and everyone was an up and coming star. Even with their substantial fan base, they couldn’t click their fingers and create a new worldwide sensation.
Mason narrowed his gaze, inclining his head almost imperceptibly. No matter how improbable, they would commit to this. They had to.
“Yes,” Ryan announced. “We will.”
“Great.” Scott leaned to the side and pulled a piece of paper from his pants pocket. “I’ll take the information back to the team and see what they say. If they agree, I’ll call. But while you wait, here are the suggested changes to the tour.”
Ryan snatched the document and scoured the highlighted dates. Shit. Eight more shows that extended the tour for two weeks. He glanced at Leah, his jaw stiff, his anger coursing between them. The slight convulse of her throat was the only indication she understood his silent message.
This was bad.
This was fucked.
Her features continued to tighten, her frown deepening and deepening until everything froze and a calculated look of understanding washed over her.
“Nice pretense, Scott.” She narrowed her stare on the representative. “I can’t believe we almost fell for that.”
“Hmm?” Scott quirked a brow.
“We’re already a month into the tour and you expect everyone to be on board with new dates—the band, the crew, the venues? I call bullshit. You knew how adamant we were about the schedule. What you came in here for was the boost to Slicker’s profile. That was the goal all along, not the tour.” She cocked her hip and scoffed. “You start by threatening us with suggestions you knew the guys would never agree to—Gabi and the pregnancy, Mason and a wedding date. When the whole plan was to get us to promote your failing band.”
Scott waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he pushed to his feet. “This is about taking what we can from a band who snatched everything they could from us before they decided to cut and run.”
“Go to hell,” Sean growled. “It’s not our problem you’re delusional in thinking we’d sign another shitty deal. Get over it and move on.”
“I don’t have to. Not while we still have your current contract in play.”
Mason shoved to his feet. “Do you know what I do to guys who—”
“Good night, Scott.” Leah stepped in front of Mason, taking control, her presence a warning to the lead singer and anyone else in the room who wanted to voice their opinion. “We’ll speak again tomorrow.”
“You’re such a good leash.” Scott chuckled. “You’re the only woman I know who can bring five grown men to heel.”
Ryan tensed. Every muscle, every limb. The reason they responded to her instructions wasn’t because of authority or superiority. It was plain and simple respect. She’d earned the ability to pull them up on a dime because she’d proven her perspective was always clearer than theirs. It was what they relied on her for. That damn Wonder Woman thing, and she just proven it again by seeing through Scott’s bullshit.
“And you’re such a good lap dog.” She beamed a smile at him, her eyes flashing in supremacy. “Now get out of here and let me deal with this.”
Everyone remained silent as Scott sauntered from the room. There wasn’t a sound. Not even the asshole’s footsteps breached the heavy rush of blood in Ryan’s ears. Then the door slammed shut and the space erupted into a vocalized dog fight.
“He can get away with this, can’t he?”
“Yes.” Leah met Sean’s concern with a cringe. “History has shown that record labels can do whatever they like. Hell, they could even slip you a roofie and rape your ass and you’d still have to fulfill whatever contractual obligations they deem necessary.”
She wasn’t exaggerating. Behind the glitz and glamour of the music industry was a threatening relationship fans weren’t privy to. The artists held all the talent, and yet the label held all the power.
“I didn’t see this coming.” Mitch slumped onto the sofa and cradled his head in his hands. “I honestly thought we’d walk away from Grander amicably.”
Ryan nodded in agreement, but Leah didn’t mimic the movement. The guilt in her eyes said she’d anticipated this. She’d known it would happen.
“Scott would’ve been under pressure to re-sign Reckless.” She released a defeated breath. “And now that he’s failed, Grander is grasping at straws to get whatever they can before you’re out of contract and no longer under their dictatorship.”
“So what do we do? How do we fight this?” Mason knitted his
hands back above his head. “It’s hard enough being away from Sidney, but Blake has to deal with a hell of a lot more. And I’ll be damned if I pimp out a band I hardly know.”
“That’s the problem. We have no power. We can’t fight this. What we have to do is give them what they want in the easiest way possible and get out as soon as we can.”
“Are you kidding?” Mason glared. “No fucking way.”
She turned on him, five and a half feet of gorgeous fury bearing down on the lead singer. “No, I’m not kidding. You have no idea what it’s like to be under the label’s control. You’ve slid by on impressive sales and side-stepped all the drama because your income frees you from the backstabbing. But believe me, this is what most artists have to deal with on a continuous basis. This is what the industry is like for everyone below the top ten percent. You wanted to decline signing the contract they offered, now face the backlash.”
Ryan itched to cut in, to back her up no matter how clueless he was on the topic. Only she didn’t need it. Mason held up his hands in surrender and returned to his position on the sofa. “Sorry I spoke.”
“Don’t be sorry. Be realistic. Their logic is clear.” Her voice was softer now, the edge of defeat heartbreaking. “They want to create a new Reckless Beat. At least sales-wise. Having us promote Slicker and gush over their songs will be one thing, but instigating a story fans can follow and become emotionally involved in will be bigger and better. It happens all the time. Celebrities get involved in scandalous relationships mere months before an album release. The process has become a routine for some artists.”
Ryan didn’t doubt it. He just wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into. He’d barely spared Slicker a sideways glance in the last month. They were a fledgling band assigned to the tour by Grander. The two men and two women group had no pulling power in regard to ticket sales. They had no tour experience at all. They were a heavy weight that nobody in Reckless had the time to coddle. So Ryan had chosen to give them a wide birth in an effort to hide his resentment.
