ALMOST PARADISE

by Williams, Mary J.

  Jax felt a fresh rush of excitement. Their first studio session. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

  ~ ~ ~

  TIME FLEW BY in a rush of recordings and rehearsals. Jax had little time to catch his breath, none of them did. They were focused on work with little time for anything else.

  Cross the Line would be the first single. Jax and Kane poured over the arrangement with their producer. A string of hits under his belt, Mark Hallstrom was respected across the industry for his ability to mold a piece of music into a certified hit.

  Twenty years in the business, Hallstrom expected young, inexperienced artists to accept his wisdom without question. Jax and Kane lacked experience, and they were young. However, where their music was concerned, they bowed to no one.

  “You can’t take away the opening chords,” Kane made the argument for the third time.

  “I know what sells,” Mark insisted, his patience near the breaking point.

  “And I know what works.”

  Throwing up his hands, Mark looked to Ryder Hart for a second opinion, a voice of reason.

  “Tell the greenhorn I’m right.”

  The term living legend was thrown around with little regard for the true meaning. In Jax’s opinion, Ryder Hart sat at the top of a very short list. Pushing forty, tall with a lean, athletic build, the man looked ten years younger. Still relevant, still evolving, over twenty years in the business, he and the other members of The Ryder Hart Band were still the most successful rock band in the world.

  Nervous, worried he’d make a fool of himself, worried his hero wouldn’t live up to his expectations, Jax had to laugh when he remembered the first time Ryder shook his hand. Turned out the legend was just a man. Rich, famous, and worshiped by millions, but as down to earth as any guy at the local bar.

  After a small case of flub-mouth, Beck’s nerves settled. He and Dalton Shaw became fast friends. Morgan, always slower to join in, clicked with Ashe Matheson. Soon, the four men were inseparable.

  Ryder was everything Jax could have asked for in a mentor. He answered a million questions, came to the studio to oversee the recording. Best of all, he wanted Razor’s Edge to succeed. He was dedicated to guiding them in the right direction—toward the top.

  “They’ve lived with their music a hell of a lot longer than we have, Mark.” Ryder placed a calming hand on Kane’s shoulder. “Lay down two tracks, one with their version, one with yours. We’ll listen, then decide. Fair enough?”

  Didn’t take a rocket scientist to understand Mark expected Ryder to take his side. The producer wasn’t happy. In the end, he was a gun for hire and acquiesced to the man paying his salary.

  “Your dime.”

  Ryder Hart was one of the few artists who still recorded using in-studio musicians. Jax was thrilled at the chance to present their music the way it was meant to be heard. He waited while Beck and Morgan took their places. Kane was ready—chomping at the bit, to be exact.

  Jax handed Skye a set of earphones.

  “Nervous?”

  With a self-deprecating laugh, she wiped her hands on the legs of her jeans.

  “Cool as a cucumber.”

  “You’ll be great,” he whispered. “Kane and I have the lead. All you need to do is back us up with your beautiful harmony.”

  Skye nodded, closed her eyes. Kane’s opening chords filled the room.

  Years later, Jax would continue to wonder at what transpired. Two takes were all they needed, as if the music gods smiled, sprinkling magic from the heavens.

  “Don’t expect perfection every time,” Ryder warned. “Trust me, today was an anomaly.”

  Still floating on a music high, Jax packed away his guitar.

  “Kane was right.”

  Chuckling, Ryder watched Mark Hallstrom eat some humble pie as he and Kane listened to the winning track—again.

  “Did you doubt him?”

  “Where music is concerned, never.” Jax hesitated. “I need advice.”

  “Problems already?” Ryder sent him an understanding smile. “Won’t be the first time or the last.”

  “Kane and I have been friends most of our lives. He had a rough start.”

  “Seems like he’s doing okay.”

  “Since we arrived in L.A., he’s been surprisingly mellow.” Jax wanted to believe Kane’s newfound sobriety would last but wouldn’t kid himself. “Once we hit the road, I’m afraid he’ll fall back into old habits.”

  “What’s his poison of choice? Alcohol? Drugs? Women?”

  “Yes, to all of the above, and more.” Jax watched Ryder’s reaction closely. “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “Not much I haven’t seen.”

  “How have you kept the band together all these years?”

  Ryder tossed Jax a bottle of water from the built-in refrigerator. Sipping his own, he took a seat on the sofa.

  “Pretty early on,” he began after Jax joined him. “just before we hit it big, something happened.”

  “Dalton went to prison for a crime he didn’t commit.”

  “I guess everyone knows.” Frowning, Ryder ran a hand through his dark hair. “We don’t publicize our private lives, never have. His time behind bars isn’t a subject Dalton likes to discuss.”

  “He was exonerated.” Like the rest of the world, Jax ate up the stories as quickly as they were available.

  “Doesn’t give him back the time he lost.” Anger flashed in Ryder’s eyes. “We could have gone one of two ways. Let the world tear us apart, or raise the drawbridge and stay loyal to each other, no matter what.”

  Jax craved a career as long and fruitful as Ryder’s, one with his friends by his side. Sometimes, he was sure they’d make it. Then, as the doubts set in, the future became less clear.

  “You survived.”

  “We’re family,” Ryder told him with absolute conviction. “By blood and by choice. Not perfect, and Lord knows we’ve hit more than a few bumps, professionally, and personally. But, when people matter, you forgive them, you stand by them, and kick them in the ass when necessary.”

  “I’ve kicked Kane a few times. And he’s kicked me,” Jax sobered. “I can only do so much. The rest is up to him.”

  “There you go. Had the answer all the time. Just needed a sounding board.” Rolling to his feet, Ryder gave Jax a hand up. “Doors always open. Dalton and Ashe feel the same. And, if Skye needs a woman’s point of view, Zoe knows a thing or two about life on the road with a bunch of lunkheads.”

  Jax’s gaze found Skye, huddled in the corner of the room laughing with Joplin, Zoe Hart, and Ryder’s wife, Quinn.

  “I recognize the look in your eyes.” Sympathetic, Ryder slapped Jax on the back. “You and Skye, huh?”

  “We’re friends, nothing more.”

  “I sense a story. However, as a man who values his privacy, I won’t ask.”

  Jax’s gaze lingered, the need for Skye washing over him with an uncomfortably familiar intensity.

  “Might come a time when I need to volunteer the information or go crazy.”

  “As I said, I’m here.”

  “You finished for the day?” Zoe asked her brother, pulling a reluctant Skye in her wake. “Because we need to go shopping.”

  “We?” When Quinn arrived, Ryder slipped an arm around his wife’s waist. He gave her cheek a loving kiss. “I thought you preferred to surf the net.”

  “Zoe wants to give Skye and Joplin the full Beverly Hills experience.” With a resigned sigh, Quinn rested her golden head on Ryder’s shoulder. “Since your sister treats shopping as a contact sport, I decided to go along to protect our young friends.”

  “I really don’t need new clothes.”

  “Yes, you really do.”

  “Zoe!” Quinn admonished her sister-in-law. “You look fine Skye. Don’t let anyone, especially our resident fashion plate, say otherwise.”

  Women tried to copy Zoe Hart’s style. From the to
p of her blond head to the tip of her designer shoes, she was unique, a one of the kind badass lead guitar player with a killer fashion sense. And, under the attitude and snark, a kind, thoughtful friend.

  “Skye is a natural beauty,” Zoe smiled. “But a little embellishment never hurts.”

  “I can’t afford Beverly Hills.”

  “When I was your age, neither could I.” Zoe pushed Skye toward the exit. Silently, though obviously enjoying the show, Joplin followed. “Today, I need to buy my husband a birthday present, and a few things for myself. You can watch and learn.”

  “Smith’s birthday isn’t for another six months,” Ryder called out.

  “Shut up, big brother.”

  Laughing, Ryder walked Quinn to the door. Holding her close, he whispered something that brought a smile to her lips. After a lingering kiss, he reluctantly said goodbye and turned to Jax.

  “One piece of advice—for today.”

  “Sure.” Jax would be a fool to say no.

  “If Skye is important to you, don’t screw it up. I wouldn’t be half the man I am without Quinn.”

  Skye was important. But two things stood between them. Her father, and the promise she would never break. For now, Jax had to bide his time.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ♫~♫~♫

  “I MAY THROW up.” Skye took a deep breath. She swayed, reaching for Jax’s arm. “Throw up, then faint.”

  Jax pulled her into his arms, happy for an excuse to do the forbidden—hold her close. Her body next to his felt so damn good, so right. Even better when she didn’t hesitate to hug him back.

  “You can’t conquer the world with vomit on your face.”

  “You can, but the thought is disgusting,” Kane winked, adjusting his guitar strap.

  “Besides,” Jax whispered for Skye’s ears only. “If you faint, who’ll catch me?”

  The sound of her laughter, hesitant and a little weak, almost settled Jax’s own jangling pre-concert nerves. Almost.

  Waiting to go on stage, minutes away from the group’s first major concert, nothing, not long hours of rehearsals or a myriad of pep talks, had prepared him for the reality of a restless and eager Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum crowd.

  Cross the Line had a decent first week on the charts and continued a slow but steady climb. However, if he believed the wave of excitement from a well-received first single would make tonight easier, he was sadly mistaken. Their debut song could be certified platinum. He, and the battalion of butterflies parked in his stomach, would still feel like imposters.

  Any second now, he expected Ryder Hart to appear, tell them the last five weeks were nothing more than a colossal practical joke before security kicked Razor’s Edge out of the building onto their collective asses.

  Beck, his face a sickly shade of green, seemed a million miles away as he tattooed a random beat on the side of the wall.

  “Standing room only. I checked,” Morgan mumbled as his hand massaged the back of his neck. “What the hell was I thinking?”

  “You tell us.” Kane, still on the path of semi-sobriety—close as he was likely to get—set aside his first beer of the evening. “What’s with the sunglasses twenty-four/seven? You’re the last person I expected to turn into Joe Hollywood.”

  “Sensitive eyes.”

  “Then see a doctor,” Kane sneered. “You look like a goddamn poser.”

  “And you look like an asshole,” Morgan retorted. “With or without glasses.”

  Skye had settled into an easy relationship with her new friends. But the dynamic between the male members of Razor’s Edge was still a mystery to her. He understood. Twenty-four years on earth and he couldn’t say with any certainty what made the male of the species tick, himself included.

  “Are they fighting?”

  Skye seemed as fascinated as she was concerned. Either way, she seemed steadier on her feet.

  “Better?” Jax inquired, reluctantly letting go.

  “I am,” Skye smiled, visibly relieved. “I’m prepared, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Thanks to Zoe, I look like a million bucks. Right?”

  “Right,” Jax chuckled.

  After their excursion to Beverly Hills, a trip where Zoe Hart cajoled Skye into trying on a few outfits, just for fun, a new wardrobe was delivered the next day, the array of clothes, shoes, and accessories dazzling to someone who by necessity considered jeans and a t-shirt formal attire.

  “I wanted to repay her, a little at a time, but Zoe refused.” Almost reverently, Skye ran a hand over the butter-soft, cappuccino-colored leather pants. “I should have insisted.”

  “The best way to thank Zoe is to help us turn all the doubters into Razor’s Edge fanatics.”

  Skye’s fingers brushed his neck as she touched the collar of his black button-down shirt. Jax thought she would kiss him, willed her to give him what they both wanted. Holding his breath, he waited.

  He knew the second Skye remembered why the kiss couldn’t happen. She dropped her hand, regret in her eyes. Under his breath, he exhaled a vicious curse.

  “Every woman in the audience will fall for you.” She cleared her throat. “All of you.”

  “What about the men?” Jealousy was new for Jax. He realized where Skye was concerned, the emotion was now a part of his DNA. While he suffered from wanting her, the idea another man might enjoy what he was denied gutted him—daily.

  “I imagine a good number of them will fall as well,” she chuckled, not understanding his meaning. “How could they resist.”

  You do, quite easily. Jax swallowed the words. He didn’t try to keep the rebuke from his eyes. Hell, he was only human.

  Beck, ever the keeper of the peace, slid a companionable arm over Jax’s shoulders. He did the same to Skye.”

  “Not five minutes ago, a guy hit on me in the bathroom—while I took a leak. Naturally, he was impressed by my manly goods.”

  “What did you say?” Skye asked, her lips twitching in appreciation of Beck’s narrative skills.

  “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “To which he responded…?

  “What a waste,” Beck sighed, mimicking his admirer. “No hard feelings, he left, after I signed his impressive bicep.”

  “And the crazy begins,” Kane grinned. “I had a similar experience—with a woman—and her breast.”

  Skye’s eyes widened in horrified surprise.

  “In the men’s bathroom?”

  “Fans, I’ve discovered, are shameless.” Kane sent her a wink. “Bless their souls.”

  Joplin joined them in time to hear most of Kane’s story. If he hoped to bring a blush to her cheeks, he was disappointed. With an insider’s view of the music scene from an early age, she wasn’t easily shocked.

  If something ever rattled Joplin’s cool, Jax doubted anyone would notice. The woman had a poker face rivaled only by Kane.

  “A useful tip? Unless your goal is to end up on the next episode of TMZ, check all bathroom stalls before a random hookup. Chances are good to excellent your obliging fan brought a friend to capture the encounter for posterity—and a sizable payday.”

  “I’m always camera ready,” Kane shrugged, partly because he didn’t care, mostly because Joplin had a way of getting under his skin.

  All she had to do was walk into a room, he went on the defensive. Her bits of wisdom and advice especially rankled. Joplin did her best to ignore the surly lead guitar player. Now and then, with relish, she pushed back.

  “You want to be known for your music, or sexual escapades?”

  “Don’t forget option C.” Crossing his arms, he gave Joplin one of his patented smirks. “All of the above.”

  The stage manager, sixty years old and well versed in the ways of high-strung musicians, cleared his throat.

  “Lights are going down,” he informed them. “Take your places on stage. The intro for Razor’s Edge is live in five.”

 
“Break a leg.” Joplin hugged Skye.

  “Suck my—"

  Before he could finish, Kane stumbled toward the stage courtesy of a hard shove from Jax.

  “Watch it,” Kane grumbled, grabbing the microphone stand. “Broken bones and killer guitar licks don’t go well together.”

  “We need to talk about your crap-fest attitude toward Joplin.”

  Ladies and gentlemen. The public address announcer interrupted Jax before he could give Kane the dressing-down he deserved.

  “You know where to find me, bro.”

  The Los Angeles Memorial Colosseum proudly presents… Razor’s Edge.

  Lights flared, illuminating the stage. Jax stepped to the microphone. Yes, he knew where to find Kane. Right where their dreams and hard work had carried them. Together, in the spotlight.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ♫~♫~♫

  THE TWO-WEEK break in their schedule left everyone at loose ends. Everyone but Skye. She was on a plane headed to visit her father and sister. In his head, Jax knew she wasn’t leaving for good. She’d be back before they left on the European leg of the tour.

  Unfortunately, where Skye was concerned, Jax’s heart wasn’t always in tune with his brain.

  “She’ll be fine,” Beck assured him as the limousine drove them from the airport back to the hotel. His brow furrowed with worry when Jax continued to brood. “Won’t she?”

  “Physically, yes.” Jax wouldn’t let Skye within a thousand miles of her father if he believed otherwise. “You know how many times Todd Monroe called in the last five months.”

  “At least once a day.” Beck scratched his stubble-covered chin. “Does seem like overkill, even for an overprotective daddy.”

  “He’s a master at the guilt trip.”

  The bastard timed his calls with Machiavellian precision, falling less than an hour before each performance. Whatever he said, Skye wasn’t herself until the band’s third song, their first duet.

  After a week, Jax finally had enough. He was worried about Skye. The nagging phone calls from home took their toll. Knowing she wouldn’t listen if he made the demands about him—about them—he used Razor’s Edge as an excuse.