Ignoring Kane, the woman turned to Jax.
“What’s his objective? For me to fall at his feet in gratitude or run for the hills in horror?”
Morgan snorted, Beck, too. Catching the disgruntled glint of disbelief in Kane’s eyes, Jax had to grin. She might look like a babe in the woods, but behind her dark-rimmed glasses and clear green eyes was the first woman who hadn’t melted over Kane since he kissed Gloria Tiller at the grand old age of twelve.
“Guess you aren’t here for an autograph. Or anything else we have to offer.”
“An autograph, no. However, you do have something I want.”
“Really?” Kane dropped the charm in favor of a sneer. “Do tell.”
Ignoring him, she held out her hand to Jax.
“My name is Joplin Ashford, by the way. And I want to help turn Razor’s Edge into the biggest rock band in the world.”
~ ~ ~
“THE BIGGEST ROCK band in the world?” Kane grumbled into his beer. “Why not the biggest band, period?”
For the past half hour, as they waited in their hotel room for Joplin Ashford and her boss to arrive, Kane did nothing but complain. Used to his friend’s endless chatter, Jax usually tuned out the noise. Not tonight.
Between a nagging worry over Skye and the possibility their fortunes were about to take a change for the better, for once, Jax wasn’t in the mood to let Kane’s mouth flap until his motor ran out of fuel.
“Enough!” The sound of Jax’s hand hitting the laminated end table startled Kane into silence. “She bruised your ego. Get over it.”
“My ego is just fine.” Kane crumpled his empty can into a ball. “I just don’t want us to wrap our hopes upon a slip of a girl who can’t be more than what? Nineteen?”
“Long as she delivers on even half her promises, her age is irrelevant.”
Using the business card Joplin Ashford left with him, Jax tapped his leg. The obviously high-end paper felt slightly rough between his fingertips, the classy script short and to the point.
Danny Graham. Manager. Followed by a phone number and nothing else.
“Could be a scam.” Beck leaned against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankles. “For a thousand bucks, we’ll make you a star.”
“Set their sights on the wrong chumps,” Kane snorted. “Between us, we don’t have a thousand anything.”
“Can’t say if the man’s legit, but I know the name.” Jax took a magazine from his suitcase. He tossed the copy of Rolling Stone to Kane. “Page forty-six. Danny Graham is the bigtime.”
Beck straightened, walking across the room so he could read the article over Kane’s shoulder.
Jax’s gaze moved to the far bed where Morgan sat in a meditative pose. Eyes closed, he breathed deeply, in and out.
“You’ve been unusually quiet.”
“What should I say?”
Jax appreciated Morgan’s Zen, what will be, will be, outlook on life. But, damn, they were on the brink of something. A small show of nerves seemed appropriate, even for the king of chill.
“You must have an opinion. Everybody else does.”
“An opinion on what?” Morgan exhaled. “Show me a concrete offer, details, schedules, money. Then we’ll talk.”
The copy of Rolling Stone slapped Jax square in the face.
“Morgan’s right,” Kane smirked over his direct hit. “Sure, right now, we scrape by from booking to booking. At least we call the shots. No one pulling us one way, pushing us another.”
“Change your music, cut your hair,” Beck sneered in an exaggerated, sing-song voice. “I’m all for fame and fortune, Jax. But not if the price is the loss of our creative control.”
“Never was boy band material. Same shirts, same hair gel, dainty choreography.”
The images Kane painted were too horrifying to contemplate, and way ahead of the game.
“Hit the brakes,” Jax warned his friend, and himself. “Before anything is decided, we listen, we discuss, we get legal advice. Then we decide, together. Agreed?”
“And we ask a lot of questions,” Beck added.
“I have a question. What kind of name is Joplin?”
Jax rolled his eyes. Sometimes Kane was like an old man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. In a blink, his mental age could fall to the depths of a pouty, hormonal teenage boy.
While both phases were frustrating and difficult, at least Jax could tell teenage Kane to zip his lip.
“We’ve worked our asses off to get someone like Danny Graham, someone with clout, to take notice. Do not blow what might be our only chance because a woman took you down a few notches.”
“Sheesh.” A frown darkening his brow, Kane slumped into his chair. “All I did was ask about her name.”
A brisk knock sounded, interrupting the exchange. Sending a warning look around the room, Jax opened the door.
A man, maybe five-feet-three, with thinning hair, a stocky body, and wide smile entered without an invitation. For someone small in stature, he commanded attention—the blue and red brightly stripped jacket didn’t hurt.
“I’m Danny Graham.” He swung his arms wide. “And you must be Razor’s Edge.”
“Jaxon Cross.” Jax shook Danny’s hand. “Kane Harrison, Beckett Kramer, Morgan Ames.”
“Pleasure.” Danny nodded. “You’ve met Joplin.”
To his credit, Kane didn’t speak. However, the slow curl of his upper lip didn’t go unnoticed. Joplin smiled, no, she grinned, letting her narrow-eyed adversary know she could take all the scowls and snark he had to give.
Danny shook his head when Jax offered him a seat.
“Let’s cut to the chase before we run out of oxygen. Damn small room,” he chuckled. “I imagine you’ve heard of The Ryder Hart Band.”
Who hadn’t? Jax thought. They were certified rock legends.
“The first song I learned was Away from Me.” His fingers bled as he struggled with the challenging chords.
“Mine was Kaleidoscope.” Kane chuckled at the memory. “Ryder Hart never wrote a bad song—or an easy one to master.”
“Still trying,” Morgan sighed.
“I hear you, brother.” Beck warmed to his favorite subject. “Dalton Shaw is the best drummer I’ve ever heard. Inspired me to pick up my first pair of sticks, much to my mother’s sorrow. Still hopes I’ll ditch the music in favor of a career in anything else.”
“What possible connection is there between us and The Ryder Hart Band? Unless… Do they want to record one of our songs?”
Jax was territorial over his material, but if a high-profile band, artists he admired wanted first crack, he’d put his ego aside.
“Not your song, you.”
Danny beamed as if his words told the entire story. Jax was still confused, as was Kane.
“Ryder Hart wants Jax?”
“No.” Looking to Joplin, Danny scrubbed a hand over his stubbly chin. “You’re better with words. You explain.”
Giving Danny an understanding pat on the shoulder, Joplin took over.
“The Ryder Hart Band was discovered in a small bar much like the one you played tonight.”
Jax nodded. He knew the story. Years of hard work, toiling in obscurity. Then bam, The Ryder Hart Band hit big and was branded an overnight success.
“Ryder’s sister, Zoe came up with the idea. Give an unknown artist the same opportunity. The rules are simple. No prior representation, national publicity, or record deal.”
“Razor’s Edge certainly qualifies.” Thoughtful, but with a spark of excitement in his gray eyes, Beck took a deep breath in an effort to quell his rising excitement. “What are the contest rules? Do we send in a demo?”
Joplin shook her head, sending her long, blond ponytail bouncing.
“No contest. Zoe put out the word to agents, managers, scouts. Look for talent but keep the search on the down low. She didn’t want anyone to try to stack the deck.”
“Joplin keeps me abreast to what’s brewing music-wise in college towns. She says Razor’s Edge is the best band she’s heard in years.”
“How many years?”
“Kane…” Jax shot Kane a warning look.
“You really want to put our future in the hands of an inexperienced teenybopper?” Kane taunted.
“Damn it, Kane. I’m sure Ms. Ashford is—"
“Thank you, Jax, but I can fight my own battles.” Joplin turned on Kane. “I’m twenty-one. Unless I miss my guess, only a few years younger than you, junior.”
“Got you there, junior,” Beck snorted.
“Age has nothing to do with maturity.” Kane wasn’t ready to drop the subject. “How much living have you done? How much wear and tear do you have on your soul?”
Joplin swallowed as a bit of her bravado faded in the face of Kane’s scorn. Compassion swirled in her dark eyes as she reached out, placing her hand on his. Kane started as if shocked by the sudden awareness no one in the room could miss.
A second passed, then another before Kane broke contact, turning away. Whatever passed between them, he wasn’t happy.
“Okay.” Danny cleared his throat. “There is no official contest. Because I have a good relationship with The Ryder Hart Band’s manager, I sent the video of Razor’s Edge, recorded last weekend on Joplin’s phone, directly to him. He sent the information to Zoe and the rest of the band.”
“And?” Jax prompted. “When will we know?”
“Didn’t I say?” Danny frowned. “We already know. Razor’s Edge is the opening act for The Ryder Hart Band’s next tour.”
CHAPTER SIX
♫~♫~♫
JAX DIDN’T UNDERSTAND his friend’s hesitation. Razor’s Edge had been handed the chance of a lifetime. Everything they’d worked for was knocking, and he seemed to be the only one who wanted to open the damn door.
Left alone by Danny Graham to talk over the out-of-the-heavens offer to open for The Ryder Hart Band, they should be on their knees thanking every God possible—then bouncing off the ceiling with giddy joy.
Instead, as Jax looked around the room, all he saw were three hangdog expressions. What the hell was going on?
How could they not get the significance? They needed to set aside the fear, embrace the joy, and act before motherfucking fate woke up, realized how close they were to success, and snatched their dreams out of their hands.
A chance at fame and fortune didn’t come along every day. The water was clear and from Jax’s vantage point, relatively hazard free. Now was the time to jump, eyes wide open
Yet, his friends, his bandmates, held back as if they expected the offered champagne to morph into a bowl of watered-down punch—with a turd bobbing in the center.
Beyond frustrated, Jax threw up his hands.
“Did I miss something? We heard the same offer, right? A world tour, all expenses paid, a mind-boggling salary. Plus, more perks than four slightly rank, still wet-behind-the-ears musicians deserve?”
“Fame brings nothing but problems.”
Okay, Jax conceded, Morgan’s skepticism he could almost understand. Worse than an old man at an intersection crosswalk, he always looked every angle, up, down, and sideways. Caution was fine, admirable if you didn’t have a sure thing staring you straight in the eyes.
“On the coattails of a legendary band, we’ll get some attention, but famous?” Jax scoffed. The word made his mouth water. For Morgan’s sake, he dismissed the idea. “Knowing Kane, he’ll flirt with infamous. The rest of us? We’ll be lucky if anyone remembers our faces, let alone our names, a week or two after the last concert.”
Morgan wasn’t convinced. He didn’t talk about his past or the future. Whatever his dreams, big or small, he kept them to himself. However, Jax knew his one weakness. When a buddy asked for a favor, he would move mountains.
“We need you.”
“Bastard,” Morgan grumbled, knowing the trick and falling all the same.
“Are you in?”
“Maybe.” Morgan sighed. “Probably.”
Jax would get an unequivocal yes from his reluctant friend before the day was over and not feel an ounce of regret. He would do whatever necessary to hold the band together.
“And you?” he queried a silent Beck. “Why the long face?”
“I’m not good enough to walk the same ground as Dalton Shaw, let alone play on the same stage.” Beck’s hand clenched a pair of drumsticks. “I want to meet him, learn from him, but…”
Oh, freaking Lord. Eyes closed, Jax’s chin hit his chest. Beck, the arrogant drummer, was in the middle of a rare I’m not worthy moment straight out of Wayne’s World.
Beck needed a little time. He’d get his swagger back, and everything would be fine.
Two down, one to go—the one he never imagined would need convincing. Jax sat on the bed next to a brooding Kane.
“How many times have we wished all our dreams coming true?”
“A lot.”
“We’re close, man. Breathe in. The air is already sweeter.”
“I’ll fuck it up.” Kane rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “You know I will. Beck and Morgan know. Shit, even my old man, eight years in the ground, knows. Can hear him now, laughing his boney ass off, anticipating the day I join him in hell.”
“Don’t you dare go dark on me.” Jax gave his oldest friend a hard shake. “Not now.”
“Better now than a year or two down the road.” Kane’s shoulders slumped. “Said it yourself. I’m destined for infamy, and I don’t want to take Razor’s Edge with me.”
“I won’t leave you behind.” Jax jerked his head, a call for Beck and Morgan to join them. “We’re in together, or not at all. Right?”
“No argument here,” Beck nodded.
Morgan hesitated but not for long.
“All for one, and all that shit.”
Kane’s dark eyes filled with an emotion few people ever witnessed—humility.
“You guys are either masochists or just too dumb to know better.”
“Well?” Jax waited, the pounding of his heart almost painful.
“I know I’m a masochist.” Kane chuckled, then sighed. “What the hell. Count me in.”
Matching smiles on their faces, Kane and Morgan watched Beck do a goofy happy dance from one end of the room to the other.
Jax willed his knotted muscles to relax. Off to a bumpy start, and he didn’t expect smooth sailing the rest of the way. But, finally, they were on their way.
~ ~ ~
THE WINDOW OF the motel room gave Jax a perfect view of the parking lot behind the bar. Even if Skye blew off her promise to meet him, she had to come back for her car.
The curtains open, he rested his feet on the table, keeping his eyes peeled as he finished his breakfast. Life was strange, he decided, taking a chomp from the crisp, juicy apple. The second Razor’s Edge was offered the opportunity of a lifetime, his interest in Skye should have waned. He didn’t have time for her, not before and especially now.
Yet, his head filled with a million details, he still had room for Skye.
What could he say that wouldn’t sound like the ultimate ego trip? Wait for me? Put your social life on hold while I jet around the world? Sure, I’ll have my pick of beautiful women, but I promise to keep my hands to myself.
If he dared feed Skye such a load of crap, she would slap his face, or worse. He wouldn’t blame her. If by some miracle she bought his line, all respect he had for her would fly out the window.
The best thing would be to wish Skye well and say goodbye. No promises made, no unrealistic expectations to break.
Jax’s parents gifted him with a levelheaded pragmatism. When the shit hit the fan, he ducked. He gambled on himself—a sure bet in his book—but on little else. So why did he long to throw caution to the wind over one woman? Try as he might, the answer eluded him.
She wore a pink t-shirt—couple sizes too big—and a pair of cut-off blue jeans, the hem brushing a pair of long, shapely, sun-kissed thighs. Golden hair pulled back into a ponytail, her face free of makeup save a touch of color on her lips, her look was casual, carefree and one-hundred-percent Skye.
Eager, Jax rose to let her in. Just then, she stopped, changed direction, and disappeared around the side of the building.
Puzzled, he opened the motel door and followed.
“You look like hell.”
Out of his sight, Skye’s voice reached Jax as he approached the end of the cracked sidewalk. Kane’s answer stopped him in his tracks.
“Long night.”
Eavesdropping wasn’t his thing, but to his knowledge, Skye and Kane hadn’t exchanged more than a word or two. Curious, he put aside his conscience and waited.
“Marijuana? Really?”
Jax rolled his eyes. If her tone were any indication, Skye’s reaction mirrored his.
“The breakfast of champions.” Kane let out a snort, half laugh, half wheeze. “Want a hit?”
“Getting stoned before ten o’clock isn’t my thing.”
“Joplin said the same thing.”
“Who the heck is Joplin?”
“Haven’t you heard? She’s gonna take Razor’s Edge to the stars.” Kane paused. ‘Or make us stars. Whatever.”
“You don’t sound terribly excited.”
No, Jax agreed, Kane didn’t.
“Course I am.”
“Well, congratulations. Look, Jax is waiting.”
“She asked about you.”
“Who asked?” The impatience in Skye’s voice was palpable. As was the curiosity.
“Joplin. You know, the star maker.”
Skye didn’t respond immediately. Too surprised, Jax imagined. He knew how she felt.
“Me?” she finally asked. “Why?”
“The duet you did with Kane made quite an impression. Wanted to know if you’re part of the band.”
ALMOST PARADISE Page 6
