Beats of Life (Perception Book 5)

by Shandi Boyes

When she bends over and collects some paperwork out of a briefcase on the ground, I mumble “Holy fuck,” under my breath, causing Marcus to laugh quietly and for me to have the sudden urge to adjust the crutch of my pants. I’m not the only one that notices Kylie’s new appearance. When Noah strolls in and sees her, he stops frozen in the doorway, his eyes glance over her body before he shakes his head slightly while smiling. Jenni squeals loudly before rushing towards Kylie and throwing her arms around her neck and I’ve noticed a few of the road crew keep walking past the press conference room door, their pace slowing when they spot her inside.

  “What did you do?” Noah questions the instant he sits down next to me. My eyes flick up to his with my confusion clearly shown on my face.

  “What did you do to piss Kylie off?” he continues, smiling his beaming white smile.

  “I didn’t do anything,” I reply, the annoyance clearly heard within my voice.

  “What did he do?” Noah questions Marcus, making Nick chuckle softly next to him.

  “Strippers,” Marcus replies without any hesitation. My eyes turn to Marcus and they narrow angrily. He shrugs his shoulders like it is no big deal he is ratting me out to the rest of the band.

  Noah chuckles before he replies, “You’re going to cop it now, there is no fury like a women scorned,” Nick gently nods his head, showing that he is in full agreement with Noah’s statement.

  “Whatever, we aren’t dating,” I reply coldly. That wasn’t by my choice either, but I’m never going to admit that out loud.

  “Dating or not, you’re going to feel the wrath of her jealously,” Nick informs with one of his eyebrows cocked. My eyes flick between my three band members who all look clearly amused at my situation, which pisses me the fuck off. I’m not the one that took off without saying goodbye, I’m not the one that left her broken hearted, so why am I the one that has to adjust my lifestyle the instant she walks back into the picture?

  “Whatever, those strippers were totally worth it,” I reply arrogantly, as a white piece of paper is shoved harshly onto the desk in front of me. When I lift my eyes, I cop the angry glare of a pretty pair of hazel eyes, triggering me to swallow harshly. Kylie moves along the desk and hands a sheet of paper to the rest of the band members. Once she moves back to the table she was originally standing at, all three of my band members eyes turn to face me and they all chuckle loudly in sync.

  “You just dug your hole even deeper,” Noah says between chuckles.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I reply angrily, just as Emily walks over towards us.

  This is one part of my job I hate. Why do we need to talk to the press? Even when we tell them something until we are blue in the face, they will still run a story that is full of half-truths. Half of the shit I read about myself on the gossips sites is all fabricated. I have had my fair share of true bad press stories when the band first became famous, but I’ve tried hard the past year to clean up my image. Not just for the band’s sake, but also for Serena’s. But even if I went to church every Sunday and never fucked another groupie again, I will be forever portrayed as the bad boy of ‘Rise Up’. You do one stint in rehab and you are never able to live it down.

  When Kylie vanished without a trace, the band had just hit the big time and my mind was too preoccupied with everything that was going on that I didn’t give myself a chance to work out what the fuck had happened between us. But once Noah had his accident, my life spiralled out of control. Sex, drugs and Rock N Roll is exactly how it sounds. Once Noah recovered from his accident, I dabbled in all of it.

  Nick and Jenni had baby Jasper to keep them occupied. Noah and Emily were getting married and expecting their first baby in a few weeks and other than the occasional visit from Marcus, I was left twiddling my fucking thumbs in an empty house. For years the band practiced every weekday and we performed every weekend and then suddenly, nothing but static. When you’re use to hearing constant buzzing, deafening silence will unravel even the strongest person.

  When I was sitting home alone the memories of Kylie were constantly filtering through my brain. I couldn’t work out what had happened or what I did wrong that made her leave without even saying goodbye. Wanting to escape my memories, I went to have some beers at Mavericks. When I walked in, I was treated like a god by our old dedicated fans. I allowed the hype and the praise to overrule my moral compass and I got swept away with the rock star lifestyle. The women and the booze was endless, but within a matter of weeks it was no longer enough.

  It only took Marcus visiting me once for him to know that something wasn’t right. When he turned up the next day with my dad in tow, I knew I didn’t have a chance in hell of not going to rehab. My dad would have kicked my ass all the way there if he needed too. Then when I saw the disappointed look on my mom’s face when she visited me after my first week in rehab, I knew I was never going to touch another drug again. I was the only child she had left and I couldn’t put her through the pain of losing another child.

  My little sister Serena passed away six days after her thirteenth birthday. She fought as hard as she could and was so strong right up until the very end. Even the most aggressive treatments couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. Even though her disease ended up beating her, her strength and determination to not let it damper her quality of life inspired me to improve mine and I have never touched another drug since the day I went to rehab. But the gossip sites still constantly run with stories about my booze, crack and hooker weekends. I have never paid anyone to have sex with me and just because they are strippers doesn’t automatically make them prostitutes. The crack was never true, but there is a slight truth about the booze side of the story. I can drink any of the roadies under the table without even getting a hangover the next day.

  Once the press conference is over, I make my way into my dressing room to get ready to perform. ‘Big Halo’ commences our show with a thirty-minute set and then we are on stage for two hours straight. I always ensure that I eat something decent before we commence our set as I need enough food in my stomach to last me the entire two-hours. Upon entering my dressing room, I notice the back of Kylie. She is removing several containers of takeout from a delivery bag and placing them on a small table Marcus and I have in our dressing room. When she hears the door creak, her head turns to face me. She smiles shyly before she recommences serving the food.

  “They didn’t have the chicken marsala you requested, so I got you the chicken mermaid instead, but I asked them to leave off the cashew cream sauce,” she advises, surprising me that she remembers I hate any type of nuts.

  Once she has all the items set up on the table, she turns around to face me. Her eyes leisurely run over my body before they eventually return to my face. When I stare directly into her eyes, I can imagine her as that girl I met over two years ago, she is just hiding under a heavy coating of make-up and skimpy clothes.

  “Why are you wearing that?” I question curiously. Kylie is naturally beautiful and she doesn’t need to hide it under layers of makeup.

  “Because this is what normal people do,” she replies, her voice sounding cold and distant compared to a few seconds ago. “Unlike strippers, most people wear clothes to work,” she continues, confirming what Noah and Nick had suspected. She is pissed that I went to a strip club last night.

  “What do you want me to do Kylie? Stop my lifestyle because you suddenly decide to turn up again?” I query angrily, staring directly into her tear filled eyes. She remains quiet, her hazel eyes darting between mine, her breathing coming out in harsh pants.

  “This is me. This is my life now. I go to strip clubs, I fuck groupies and I don’t answer to anyone,” I reply coldly, causing a single tear to drip down her face.

  “Let me live my life and you go and live yours,” I say, my eyes glancing over her heavily coated face and body. “Your real life, not what you assume people want,” I continue before walking into the bathroom.

  I need as much distance between us as possible as seeing thos
e tears streaming down her face makes it feel like someone is stabbing me in the heart with a big ass knife. Kylie has no fucking clue that I would have picked that country girl I met two years ago in the bar over any stripper or groupie. She would have always been my first choice. But she was the one that left without even saying goodbye. She was the one that choose to end our relationship. So now she is the one that has to live with the consequences of her actions.

  Chapter 10

  Kylie

  I angrily wipe my mascara tear stains off my face in a female bathroom that is located back stage at the stadium. This is the last time I’m ever going to listen to advice from Melanie. I had called her last night after my conversation in the elevator with Sonny and Mark. She convinced me that Slater must still have feelings for me since he had warned the other guys to stay away from me. I let her words get my hopes up and this morning I decided to give myself a little confidence boost. I knew I didn’t fit in with the music industry, if the country twang in my voice isn’t enough evidence, the cowgirl boots and cotton dresses made it even more apparent. So I took a small portion of my first pay packet and went to the salon that is located on the ground floor of my hotel. When they asked me what style I wanted, I simply answered “Rock Star.” When the salon assistant first spun me around to face the mirror, a small squeal escaped my lips when I noticed my new shiny black hair and perfectly placed make-up. Right then and there, I felt rejuvenated and even a little bit sexy.

  I practically skipped back to my room with a new found spring in my step. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face the whole time I was getting dressed in some clothing Melanie had purposely left behind. “Just in case you need it,” she stated when she gifted me a suitcase full of her clothing. Once I had finished getting ready, I peered at myself in the mirror. For the first time in years I actually felt sexy. When I arrived at the stadium the first person I saw was Emily. Her eyes popped opened wide in shock as she made her way over towards me.

  “Kylie, you look hot,” she emphasized kindly, making my confidence soar even more. She ran her hand down my straightened hair and her eyes slowly roamed over my face.

  “You were always beautiful, but now you look like your naughty twin,” she informed, giggling softly.

  Now I just feel like the stupid rejected twin. I never expected Slater to wait around for me and I’m not naïve or stupid, I know he is taking full advantage of his rock star lifestyle. It just hurt having him inform me of that so harshly. The only good thing that came out of the whole exchange is that I can now be certain he isn’t harbouring any old feelings for me.

  I take a few more minutes to gather my composure before I reluctantly walk back to the wings of the stage. I just have to survive a few more hours and my working day will officially be over. I stand in the wings of the stage behind Emily and Jenni and I can’t help but feel a little bit envious and a slight ping of jealously when I watch them bounce their adorable children on their hips while watching the men they love perform on stage. I can’t fully see Slater from my current position, so I take a large step to my right. Once I am standing closer to the large thick red velvet curtain, I hear someone whispering my name.

  I lean in closer to the curtain just as someone loudly yells out “Boo!” scaring the living daylights out of me. I jump into the air like a cat that was thrown into the bathwater and squeal loud enough that Jenni and Emily turn to face me.

  “Sorry,” I apologize, as a deep chuckle vibrates through the curtain. Once Jenni and Emily’s curious eyes turn back to the stage, I go in search of the person that just scared me. It takes several ruffles through the deep curtain for me to eventually spot the amused face of Sonny.

  “You scared the living shit out of me,” I inform, making him smile even larger. As I move through the curtain, I spot a small handful of roadies playing a card game on a small table. They are using old amps and stereos as if they are chairs.

  Sonny’s eyes leisurely run over my hair and face before a wolf whistle escapes his lips, making me smile brightly. He clasps my hand within his and walks us towards the group of guys sitting around a table. The whole group appears to be around my age, I would say their ages range between early to mid-twenties. They are all wearing black polo shirts with ‘Rise Up Roadies’ written in blue on a pocket on the top right hand side and a pair of blue jeans.

  “You met Mark last night,” Sonny informs, pointing to Mark sitting on his left. “This is Pierre, David and Jeffrey,” he introduces, pointing to each member of the crew. I remove my hand from Sonny’s sweaty grip and accept the handshakes that each of the road crew are offering me.

  “Their twins,” informs Mark, when he notices my eyes darting between David and Jeffrey.

  They must be identical twins as they have the exact same green eyes, dimple in their chin, small bottom lip and blonde hair. Except Jeffery’s hair sits on his shoulders and David’s is clipped close to his scalp. Pierre has brown eyes and gorgeous olive skin, with his jet black hair and alluring features I would guess Pierre is from Italy and my suspicions are confirmed when Mark refers to him as the Italian Stallion once their card game recommences.

  “What game are they playing?” I question after watching them each lick a card and stick it to their forehead.

  “It’s a drinking card game we made up. You have to guess what card is on your head. Each wrong guess means you have to swallow a nip of alcohol,” Sonny informs with a cheeky smile on his face.

  Suddenly, a holler of laughter bounces around the small enclosed room at the side of the stage after Mark loudly declares, “You bastards better not be cheating,” before he swallows another large nip of brown colored liquor.

  “Do you want to play?” Sonny questions excitedly, instantly triggering me to shake my head. I use to be able to hold myself well with any drinking games I use to play with Slater, but I haven’t drunk any hard liquor in over a year and I’m pretty sure it would only take a few nips to get me drunk.

  “I’m still working,” I advise, turning my gaze back towards the wings of the stage where I can see the legs of Emily and Jenni underneath the curtain.

  “So are we,” Mark declares loudly, forcing David and Jeffrey to throw a pile of cards at him. One fully enclosed packet hits him harshly under his right eye that he is most likely going to wake up with a black eye tomorrow morning.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” Mark requests, the slur of his voice making me realize that the other guys have most likely been cheating, since the band only went on a few minutes ago and Mark is already well intoxicated.

  “It will remain our little secret,” I reply, crossing my heart. Mark smiles largely before he lifts his index finger to his lips, loudly telling everyone to be quiet. I giggle softly and wave goodbye before making my way towards the edge of the curtain. Just as I am about to enter the wings of the stage, Sonny calls out my name.

  “If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” he informs, winking seductively, making me wonder if he is still referring to the card game? I nod my head before walking back out into the wings of the stage.

  Once the band comes off stage, the whole atmosphere behind the scenes goes crazy. There are hundreds of fans lined up at the side of the stage requesting access for the fan meet and greet. It takes one of the bodyguards loud rumbling voice screaming at the fans to be quiet for them to eventually quieten down enough for me to give them the instructions on how the meet and greet works. Once I have the fans that were lucky enough to catch Slater’s drumsticks, Marcus and Nick’s guitar straps, I hand them over to Emily. Then the rest have to select the band member they want to meet. Because of the amount of fans, they only have the opportunity of meeting one band member. I am pleased when I notice that the lines appear to be even amongst all of the band members. Emily had explained earlier this week that she has worked hard to ensure every member of the band it treated as an equal counterpart.

  By the time we are down to the last two fans requesting to meet Noah, over two hours have
ticked by on the clock and I am beyond exhausted.

  “You did an awesome job tonight Kylie, thank you so much for all your help,” Emily declares graciously, making me smile brightly. “You are right to head off and I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,” she continues, motioning for the last two fans to follow her. I love that even though they have been waiting for over two hours, their excitement at meeting one of their idols is clearly marked all over their faces.

  Since my curiosity is peaked, I head back towards the velvet curtain at the side of the stage, wanting to know if the roadies are still playing drinking games. Just as I am about to enter, a large hand grabs my upper arm and pulls me back out of the curtain.

  “You don’t want to go in there,” states a deep male voice. When I lift my eyes, I spot the concerned blue eyes of Sonny staring down at me.

  “Why?” I question in barely a whisper. His eyes stare into mine but he doesn’t say a word, he just lightly shakes his head. My eyes automatically dart back to the curtain where I can see two pairs of legs underneath. One pair of jean cladded legs with black motorcycle boots and one pair of smooth beige legs with red stiletto shoes. The bile from my stomach moves into my throat when the person wearing the red stiletto shoes kneels down in front of the jean covered legs.