by L. V. Lewis
“That’s ridiculous,” she says. “He’s a famous rock star. They love the spotlight. All of them live for it.”
“Brody’s not like that. Maybe he used to be, but he doesn’t want public attention.”
“Is that what he told you?” She laughs. “Be careful, daughter, or he’ll outshine you before you know it. They’ll be shouting Savage Saban’s name and forget all about Skylar Samuelson.”
“That’s not going to happen. Brody only agreed to play one song on the tour. He doesn’t want the life he had with The Savages. All of that is in his past.”
“I’m glad you know him so well then. If he’s not the attention-seeker I’ve made him out to be, maybe he should do more than one song with you.”
I watch her closely. Was this the same woman who hated Brody and thought he was only after my money? She’d been so wrong about him, and now she was advocating for him to perform with me?
“I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but I’m not bringing you back as my manager.”
“I’m not here to beg for my position back like some lowly dog,” she says, acting insulted. “I simply want to make sure you understand your little rocker may be an asset on this tour. He has a built-in fan base, so having him sing more than one song may be beneficial.”
“You mean so we can make great music together?” I throw the quote from the newspaper out because I need her to know I’m aware of her meddling.
Her eyes widen at that. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Quit with the innocent act, Mother. I know it’s you who’s been talking to the press, and that has to stop.”
“What makes you think I have time to talk to a newspaper?”
“When the news says they talked to source close to the couple, that usually means friends or family, and I’m pretty sure Malik and Alyssa would never do something like that.”
Malik has been my bodyguard for years, and Alyssa and I practically grew up in the business together. I trust both of them with my life, and they feel more like family than the woman calling herself my mother. “You’re the only one who’d pull a stunt like that,” I say. “Besides, I didn’t say it was a newspaper. You just did.”
She sighs heavily, making a show of that too. “Fine, but can you blame me for caring about how the public sees you? Sue me for giving a damn about my own flesh and blood.”
“I probably could sue you,” I say.
Her face stiffens and she grabs her chest. Good. She needs to know I’m serious. The things she’s doing could cause more harm than good.
“You’d sue your own mother?” she asks.
“Keep testing me, and we’ll find out.”
“You may have fired me, but I know this business inside and out. You can’t deny that.”
She is right when she says this. Out of all the people I interacted with as a performer, no one knew how to work the system like she did. Still does. Her knowledge is what made me popular in North America, Asia, and Europe, the three places where I sell the most albums and concert tickets.
“I never doubted your business knowledge, Mother, but you repeatedly try to control my entire life. I’m not a child anymore. You can’t just move me around like your personal puppet.”
“Let me guess. Brody treats you like the grown woman you are?”
“As a matter of fact, he does and more than that. He asks for my input on issues concerning me and my brand. There’s not a change that we don’t discuss first.”
“That’s good,” she says.
I have a whole argument plan to counter the bad things she wants to say about Brody, but I replay what she says in my head.
“You think that’s good?”
“Of course. It’s good he consults you. I also meant what I said that it would be great to see him on stage with you more.”
Who is this woman, and what has she done with the aggressive person known as my mother?
“Just consider it,” she says. “Having him perform may help you reach listeners you haven’t reached before.”
She leaves me standing in the hall with that statement. I’m not sure what to make of her appearance or her change in supporting Brody.
Malik walks up to me after my mother leaves. “All the press has left.” He turns in the direction she left in before staring back at me. “You okay?”
“Taking it all in. That’s all.”
“Some advice?” he asks.
“Always, Malik. You know I value your input.”
“Your mother never does anything without an end goal in mind. Just don’t forget that.”
I nodded, having the same thoughts filling my head. “Mother always does. I only wish I knew what she has planned. She makes business sense, but then she goes and does something outrageous.”
“I’ll keep my eyes out, Sky. Believe me.”
Malik takes care of me, not just as a bodyguard but as a person who really cares about me without seeing his job as a paycheck. I don’t know where I’d be without him having my back.
“I know you will. Thanks, Malik.”
As we prepare to hit the road, I know I have to talk to Brody before we leave.
***
“As much as I hate it, she does have a valid point.” I sit on the edge of the bed as Brody paces in our suite. I’ve already told him about my mother’s nonsense and getting her to admit that she’s been to the press behind our backs, but one thing she said stays with me.
“We agreed on that one song, Sky,” Brody says. “I’m better at working behind the scenes.”
“I know, but what if performing does help bring in a new audience? I can’t deny that it makes business sense.” I pick up my tablet from the nightstand. “The comments on your old music videos have exploded with activity.”
“People watch old videos online all the time,” he says. “That doesn’t mean anything. Besides, you can’t trust video comments. Most of that stuff is nonsense or written by people who have nothing better to do.”
“Then what do you make of the video posted of you singing to me? It has over a million views. Your fans want to see you make music again. I can’t say I blame them.”
He sits down next to me. “This tour is about you, Sky. Not me. I’d rather keep it like that.”
I see the seriousness in his eyes, and I’m prepared to do as he asks. There’s just one problem. I’ve seen him play, and it’s a big part of him just as music is a major part my life.
“I’ll let it go on one condition,” I tell him.
“What’s that?”
“You can honestly tell me you didn’t love the thrill of being on that stage with me in Athens. That hearing the audience cheer your name didn’t make you crave more of it.”
“Fine,” he says. “I admit that it was amazing. Reminded me of the good times I had performing.”
“Then what’s stopping you?” For a minute, I wonder if he’s still worried about Kim. After her death, he went into hiding. I was glad when he finally told me about how much she meant to him. Now, I can’t help but wonder if her memory is what keeps him from going back to the music he’s so great at creating. I can’t imagine him not sharing such a special gift with the world.
“Have you ever heard about addictive personalities?” Brody asks.
“A little.” Ever since Brody shared that part of himself with me, I’ve been looking up addiction and the struggles former addicts go through to stay sober. I haven’t told him, because the last thing I want is for him to think I’m doing it for the wrong reasons. If anything, I want to do my best to keep the music world I live in, that we both have to live in, from making it harder than it has to be for him.
“That’s me. At least, that’s what my therapist diagnosed me with. I can easily replace one addiction for another, and I use to. Taking up MMA helped me to find an outlet, a way for me to turn all of that into a positive thing. Performing, in a way, is like an addiction for me.” He stops and looks away from me.
I take his ha
nd in mine. It’s difficult for him, but I know I need to hear what he has to say.
“The way you light up when you perform, I’m sure you feel that rush too. It’s like a runner’s high but sweeter because you feel the emotions of the crowd.”
“That’s one of the reasons I love performing. All artists do. I can see how it can be addictive.”
“But that’s just it. That thrill eventually wasn’t enough for me. I needed more to make it better each time. First, booze helped. Then I moved on to the hard stuff.”
“Is that what you’re afraid of? You’ll love performing again so much you’ll fall back into old habits?”
“That’s one reason.”
“What’s the other reason?”
Although he looks at me, he’s looking right through me. I’ve seen that look before and I know what it means.
“It’s about Kim, isn’t it?” I ask.
When he’s back from wherever it is his mind wandered off to, he nods. “The last time I performed as Savage Saban, she was alive and on that stage with me. I’m not sure I could be that singer again and not think of the past.”
Sometimes when he speaks about Kim, a tiny part of me can’t help but feel a little bit jealous. She knew a side of Brody I’d never see, a freer side that gave birth to so much talent. I can tell he even misses that part is f him at times.
I squeeze his hand. “I think you’re going about this all wrong. You shouldn’t try to forget your past, Brody. You should embrace it. That doesn’t mean you have to become that man again. If anything you can become better by accepting him and everything and everyone that came with him.”
A smile slowly spreads across his face and reaches his eyes. “Have I ever told how much I love that mind of yours?”
I can’t help but smirk. “Only my mind, Mr. Kent?”
“Not just your mind. I love everything about you.”
“Maybe you should show me how—” I’m pressed up against him before I can say more, and his mouth collides with mine. I get lost in the way he kisses me. It’s the kind of kiss that can go on forever and never make you bored. His tongue explores me, and I taste the fresh mint flavor on it.
He pulls back. “I want you out of those clothes, and then I’ll gladly show you how much I love every part of you.”
His fingers trace the hem of my shirt before he pulls it up and over my head.
He kisses me one more before moving to my cheek and then my neck. Each place his lips touch leaves a trail of heat behind. It hits deep to my stomach and directly between my legs. His hand rests on my thigh as he nibbles my ear. I feel his other hand behind my back and his fingers in clasp my bra.
“You’re too good at doing that with one hand.” My voice is breathy as his fingers graze my back.
A gleam is in his eye. “Blame it on years of mastering those guitar strings. Not just useful for making music.”
I can’t help the laughter that seeps out of me. “Then you better undress quickly so I can see what else you’ve got stored away.”
I shimmy out of my jeans and crawl up the bed. I turn around in time to see him unbutton his shirt. Each line and muscle is visible as he pulls it off. I can hardly wait to roam my hands over him and fell the hard plains of him.
He unbuckles his pants slowly, knowing I’m watching him and every move he makes. When they fall to the floor, my eyes move down to the bulge in his boxer briefs. I lick my lips on instinct, and his eyes moves to my mouth as he crawls on the bed.
His head bows down as he kisses the side of my foot and ankle before copying the same movements on my other leg. When he moves to my calves, I know he’s dragging this out.
My need for him keeps me restless as he slowly makes his path up my body.
“Brody,” I cry out when he kisses the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. His hands tease the edge of my panties without going where I need him most.
“Tell me what you want, Sky,” he says. His voice is sensitive yet commanding all at once.
“I want you,” I say, wiggling under his ministrations.
He grins before placing a kiss above my panties and on my stomach. “Where do you want me?” he asks.
“Your mouth,” I say, dragging his hand to my center. “Right here.”
That gleam in his eye is back. “My pleasure.” In one swift motion he slides my panties down my legs. The speed in his motions leaves me breathless until his lips are on me. He laps at me, and I squirm under him. Brody holds me in place, not letting me go until he’s finished with me.
His tongue flicks my clit before delving deeper inside me. My fingers find his hair and remove the band holding it in place. I love weaving my fingers through when he’s taking me closer and closer to the orgasm of my life. It’s no different now as his hands grip my ass to pull me closer to him. That contact pushes me over into the first tremor’ and all I can do is hold on to him.
I close my eyes to find my balance. When I open them he’s discarded his boxer briefs and pulled out a condom, which he rips open with his teeth.
I take it from him, because I want to feel him before he enters me. He trembles as I grip the base of his cock with one hand and ease the condom on slow. It’s my turn to tease him. I squeeze gently and a gasp escapes his lips.
“Keep that up, and we won’t finish this,” he says.
I finally slide it down the length of him, and he pushes me back on the bed with a long kiss. I’m wet enough for him to enter me. When he enters me in one long thrust, the air is knocked out of me as I adjust to his size.
He doesn’t move until I breathe again. He’s precise with each sway of his hips and hits me at different angles each time. He pulls my second orgasm from me immediately.
He’s still moving when I come back down, and I hold on tighter to him. He lifts my legs higher around his waist, and the new position brings back that sweet tension. His breathing quickens, and I know he’s close, but he doesn’t let go until breaks into a million pieces around him once more. One last thrust and I feel him still inside me as he lets out his release.
He falls down beside me and tosses the condom in the trash can beside the bed. He pulls me close.
“Get some rest, baby,” he says. “We head out early tomorrow.”
I snuggle closer to him and rest my head on his chest.
Lying next to him, I can’t help but be sad that his fans will never see their idol in the same way again. They’ll never be satisfied with just one song. I understand and respect Brody’s decision, but my heart still breaks knowing that deep down he wants to perform as much ask want him to.
Three
Seattle, WA
World Tour Opening Night
BRODY
I stare back in the mirror and realize it has been a while since I’ve seen a glimpse of my former self up close. Sky has given me full use of her costume designer and wardrobe team. When they suggested a classic Savage Saban style, I rejected it immediately. Although I’m performing again, the last thing I need is a reminder of those days, drunken and doped-up chaos. I was so fucked up then that I didn’t even care what our label branded us with. Leather and metal made up our performance. Mine usually involved leather pants with metal chains and a leather vest to show of my bare chest and tattoos.
That’s when Sky suggested a mashup of my old look for fans and something new so I didn’t feel smothered by my old life.
“It needs to be sophisticated rocker,” Sky had said.
I grinned. “You mean old rocker?”
“You say old. I say seasoned and fucking hot.”
As I stare at my reflection, the leather pants remain, but the vest has been replaced by a dark denim jacket over a cream-colored top with a deep V-neck. The shirt feels very Prince-like with a ruffled collar, but at least the designer didn’t make me look like a clown wannabe. It’s like becoming Savage Saban but an updated version of the man so many saw as a rock god. The feel of the clothes is both comfortable and unnerving at the same time.
> I hear the audience cheering backstage after one song ends. They are so loud it rumbles the floor and walls around me. That energy is hard to resist.
Sky moves on to her latest release as someone knocks on my door.
This was a time when a drink would be good, but I made sure everyone knew to keep alcohol out of my assigned dressing rooms. Old habits die hard when you’re an addict.
“Come in,” I say, adjusting the collar of my shirt. In the large mirror I see Molly, the stage manager open it.
“You’re on in five,” she says.
I nod, finally feeling the nerves make a bigger knot in my stomach.
“I’m ready,” I say and follow her out. I grab my specially crafted Gibson guitar and ease the strap over my shoulder. Even the weight of it in my hands sends a rush through me.
This is the special Les Paul edition that Kim bought me in the heyday of The Savages. Before the drinking and drugs filled our off hours. I hadn’t picked it up since I played the last song for Kim after I realized she wasn’t going to show me those gorgeous blue eyes of hers anymore.
Her ghost doesn’t follow the piece like I thought it would. I let out a sigh of relief since it’s my favorite. There’s something about hearing the strings of a Gibson that makes you rock harder, that makes the world fade away until there’s nothing left but the music.
A stage hand fixes a microphone on my head and sets it into place. The nerves come back some as she adjusts it.
When she’s done, I watch Sky from stage left as she belts out her number, a mid-tempo beat to tease the audience before my entrance ups the rock beat for them.
Even while performing, she’s dedicated to her fans, holding the hands of a few who reach out for her and kneeling so she’s closer. Malik isn’t too fond of that interaction since it makes her safety vulnerable, but Sky is headstrong when it comes to her listeners.
“They pay for my tickets,” she always defends. “I’ll be damned if I don’t give them the show they deserve.”
Her dedication is inspiring as I wait for my entrance. She turns her head in my direction until she spots me. Sky smiles as she finishes her song. Ours is meant to be the last number of the night to close out the show.
