ROCK STAR

by Daiko, SC

  Phoenix

  My phone vibrated in my purse just as I got home. I stared at the caller ID and my heart skipped a beat.

  Jake Stanley was calling me.

  I answered with trembling fingers, “Hey,” my voice sounded nervous to my ears.

  “We’d like to offer you the job,” he said brusquely, “pending blood tests to show you’re clean of drugs.”

  “Wow!” A big smile spread over my face. “Thanks. When do you want me to start?”

  “I’ll send one of our team over at nine tomorrow morning to take you to the clinic. They’ve said they’ll fast track the results. Our driver will bring you straight here afterward, and CM’s attorney will talk you through the paperwork. Once you’ve had it approved by your own legal adviser and signed the contract, provided your blood is clear, you can start immediately. The boys are eager for you to rehearse with them.”

  “Awesome.”

  “It will be good to have you on board,” Jake said warmly.

  He disconnected the call and elation rocked through me. I literally pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Crazy laughter bubbled in my throat, then Dad called out, “Phoenix, is that you, sweetie? Mom was asking for ya,” and I came down to reality with a thump.

  Mom was suffering from leukemia and her treatment had wiped out my parents’ savings and now there was nothing left… they’d even had to stop renting our beautiful family home. Dad had given up work to look after her and the three of us lived in an old Pico Blvd two-bedroom apartment. To say it was depressing would be an understatement. The roar of the highway outside. The nicotine-stained walls from previous tenants. The strippers in the club below. Urgh!

  Getting the gig with ChiMera would allow me to help pay off some of my parents’ debts. My ambition to make it as a star wasn’t entirely for my own ego. If I made it big time, I’d buy them a nice house near where we used to live in Pasadena.

  A girl can dream…

  I dropped my shoulder bag by the coat stand and went through to our tiny living room, where Mom was sitting watching a daytime soap. She tilted her head and smiled at me. “Did they offer you the job?”

  “They did,” I said, perching next to her on the lumpy sofa and kissing her cheek. Her skin was parchment thin and dry and warm. Too warm. Did she have a temperature? I hesitated to ask.

  Clearly catching the concern in my expression, she said reassuringly, “I’m fine, sweetie. So happy for you. And proud…”

  “Me too,” Dad echoed from the kitchen. The door was open; obviously, he’d been listening while he prepared our lunch. “This is the start of great things for you, mark my words.”

  I kissed Mom again and caught the scent of her illness, the scent of hopelessness. Chemotherapy had not only killed off a number of her cancer cells, but it had killed her love of life. She never left the apartment these days, preferring to watch TV all day in her nightwear. She was too young for this, only forty-five, but she looked much older. What had happened to her was so unfair. Unfair to her and also to Dad.

  The disease hadn’t just eaten away at my mother, but also at my father. He’d become a recluse, only going out sporadically to buy our meagre groceries with the money I earned from waiting tables. Mom’s leukemia had nourished itself on Dad’s love for her and had also bled him dry. He was a shadow of his former self.

  I went into the kitchen to give him a hand. Not that there was much to do. We lived off plain pasta most of the time, and Dad was draining it into a sieve before adding a small amount of butter and a morsel of grated cheese. Mom needed more variety in her diet, but we couldn’t afford it. Could barely afford the rent in this crappy place.

  I leaned against the counter. “Are you sure you guys will be ok while I’m touring with the band for two months?” I repeated the question I’d asked Dad before I’d auditioned, although I’d doubted that I would be offered the position.

  “Sweetie, we’ll manage fine.” He’d injected a note of confidence into his voice. “As long as you call us regularly and fill us in on everything you’ll be doing, we’ll be so excited for you it will make a wonderful difference to our lives.”

  I lowered my gaze, guilt tightening in my chest. It should have been me not Dad to have given up work to take care of Mom, but he’d argued against it, saying I had my future in front of me. I wouldn’t let him down, I resolved. I would make a success of myself for their sake… I owed it to them.

  3

  A week after my try-out with ChiMera, Joe, their driver and a member of CM’s security detail, opened the back door of the silver BMW SUV for me outside our condo. I waved at Mom, who was looking out of the window of our second-floor apartment, and she waved back. Dad stood behind her, and I caught the proud smile on his gaunt face. I took my seat in the car; they could no longer see me through the heavily tinted windows, but I kept waving at them anyway until our crappy building was out of sight.

  I rubbed my nervous hands down my jeans and sucked in a shaky breath. Today was my first day at work. After the blood test had revealed I was clean of drugs, and I’d gotten Dad to check through the paperwork CM’s lawyers had given me, I signed the contract in front of a notary yesterday, cashing the signup bonus check on my way home so I was able to buy a ton of groceries. The terms of my employment were more than generous—I even had health insurance for the duration— and today, after rehearsals, a stylist would be seeing me to discuss my image. My image! I pinched myself for the zillionth time. This was actually happening… although it still felt surreal.

  Throughout the twenty-minute ride to Sunset Blvd, I hummed and sang scales to warm up my voice. The closer we got to arrival the more butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Eventually, Joe pulled up in the parking lot behind the iconic Crossroads of the World building, where CM had their headquarters. Before I could open the door for myself, he’d leaped out to do it for me.

  “No need for that,” I said, aiming to be helpful. “I’m perfectly capable.”

  He frowned. “It’s my job, Miss Johnson. Before I let you out of the car, I have to do a risk assessment.”

  Risk of what? I was about to ask him, but he was speaking into his cell and was telling somebody we’d arrived.

  It was a mild March morning and the asphalt radiated warmth up my legs as I hitched my bag over my shoulder and walked with Joe into the building. We went up a short flight of stairs and through the lobby to the same room where I’d tried out with the band a week ago. They were there already, Axel pacing like a caged tiger. It struck me that he was beautiful in the way that big cats are—only from a distance. Just like them, he had the power to pounce and devour you, and I’d need to be damn careful in his company.

  His muscles rippled under a tight black t-shirt and his expressive eyes blazed bright. “Hey, Phoenix.” He unleashed the smile that made his fangirls go weak at the knees. “The guys and I are stoked you’re on the team.”

  I shivered inside. He was having the wrong kind of effect on me. No way did I want to be another notch on his incredibly long belt. I placed my bag on a chair and told myself I was being silly. Axel had done nothing to suggest he thought of me in a sexual way… I’d overreacted, pure and simple.

  “I’m happy to be here.” A flush crept across my cheeks. “I mean, this gig is a dream come true for me.”

  Axel laughed, but it wasn’t a mocking laugh, and the rest of the guys joined in.

  “Your enthusiasm is refreshing,” Jake commented from where he was standing leaning against the wall. “Just what ChiMera needs at this point in time.”

  He was referring to the elephant in the room, the gaping hole left by Ella’s death.

  I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. Instead, I turned my gaze to the lead guitarist, Rhys. He was cradling the neck of his vintage seventies Stratocaster like it was a woman he was in love with. He flicked his long black hair over his shoulder. “Welcome to the House of Fun,” he said, quoting a line from the British band Madness’ song.


  Pierce, perched on a stool behind his skins, clacked his drumsticks together. “Hey, Phoenix.”

  “Hey, Pierce,” I responded, feeling his impish blue eyes assessing me.

  “Call me Foxy, babe. Everyone does.” He winked.

  The dude was cute. Cute like a Tasmanian Devil. Thankfully, I wasn’t attracted to cute dudes with blue eyes and dark hair. Dudes with collar-length dirty-blond hair and smoldering dark eyes were another matter…

  “Let’s not call Phoenix ‘babe’,” the smoldering dark-eyed dude in question interjected in a commanding tone.

  Foxy held up his hands. “I apologize, Phoenix,” he smirked.

  “Apology accepted,” I smirked right back at him.

  There was only one other band member left for me to officially meet… Zach, the keyboard player, who also played bass when Axel was doing his own thing on the catwalk in arena and stadium concerts.

  “Hey, Phoenix,” he said softly, tucking a strand of brown hair behind his ear. “I’m Zachary but you can call me Zach.” He’d sounded almost shy, which surprised me. I guessed he needed the energy of performing in order to come out of his shell…

  He handed me a mic. “First song in the set, ‘Ghost in the Heart’.” He positioned his hands on the keyboard ready to strike the initial chord.

  Foxy clacked his sticks together, once, twice, three times, then slammed them down on his drums.

  Rhys’ fingers blurred over the frets and strings, and his guitar chimed as he leaned into the riff.

  Axel added the bass and then his deep baritone.

  “I will haunt you with my love,” he sang, and I supported him.

  I was glad the reverb in the floor monitor mix was under control and I could hear myself when the rest of the guys came in on the chorus. Otherwise, the result would have been a sonic blood bath. I reduced my American nasality to the more British sound of Axel’s voice and made sure I didn’t sing too loud or too soft.

  “Carry on,” Jake said, pulling up a chair to sit on after we’d gotten to the end of the song.

  Within minutes, I found out that a rehearsal with ChiMera involved performing the full set like a gig. They were totally professional, no messing about, no chatting, no jamming. Two hours later, we had a short comfort break then ran through the entire set again. The guys played and Axel sang with ferocious energy.

  I thought it was awesome, but Jake said, “Not bad.” He shook his head. “Not great, yet, though. Tonal balance needs to be improved wouldn’t you all agree?”

  Axel, it seemed, spoke for everyone. “We should practice more individually before the next rehearsal.”

  “Yep. Let’s call it a day,” Jake nodded. “Shall I order in some pizzas?”

  Rhys rubbed his belly. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  “I need to cool down my throat first.” Axel placed his guitar on its stand. He shot me a glance. “Would you like to do some humming with me, Phoenix?”

  “Sure,” I said, pretending nonchalance.

  For the umpteenth time, I wanted to pinch myself.

  Me, Phoenix Johnson, doing cooling down exercises with rock god Axel Wainwright.

  Holy Shit!

  We ate a late lunch in CM’s swanky boardroom. I was unable to finish my pepperoni pizza, it was so big, and was about to inquire if I could take it home with me when Foxy asked if he might have it. I was too embarrassed to reveal the sorry state of my family life and how we could never afford take out, so I handed him my plate.

  “Thanks, Phoenix,” he said in his London accent. “Since getting clean I can’t stop eating.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Axel took a swig from his can of soda. He flexed his bulging arm muscles. “Good thing I like working out.”

  I closed my eyes momentarily, imagining his smoking hot body on a rowing machine. Then I heard Jake asking me a question and I forced myself to focus.

  “I forgot to check if you have an up-to-date passport,” he was saying.

  Before Mom got sick, we used to travel across the border to Baja from time to time. I’d gotten a passport when I was sixteen and I told Jake it was still valid.

  “I’ve never been to Europe before,” I admitted. “I’m so excited…”

  I caught Axel staring at me, his expression unfathomable. He probably thought I was such a doofus. He’d been really nice to me earlier, though. After singing for around four hours, our voices were wide open; our throat muscles had gone through a load of extreme stretching. Like any athlete (and singers are athletes of the voice), we needed to calm those muscles and allow them to relax.

  Axel had taken me to a side room, and we’d sat almost knee-to-knee making soft siren sounds together. As usual, after a vocal cool down, my entire body was glowing. Could be why I was thinking inappropriate thoughts about him. It was pure fantasy, in any case. I reminded myself I’d sworn off men. If Axel tried to hit on me, I would run for the hills.

  Suddenly, the door to the board room swung open, and a beautiful, curvy woman, wearing a body-hugging short red dress, came into the room. She was exotic-looking, possibly Hispanic, and her long dark brown ringlets framed a flawlessly made up face.

  With my pale hair and only a touch of mascara and lip gloss, I felt colorless. At least I was wearing my best pair of jeans and a newish t-shirt.

  She looked me up and down, then held out a manicured hand. “Hi. I’m Camila, your stylist.” Her hazel eyes narrowed. “I can’t wait to get started on you.”

  Started on me? What did she mean? I glanced at the guys for clarification, but they’d all gotten to their feet and were making a swift exit out of the door. Axel, the last to leave, shot me a sideways glance, then focused his attention on Camila. “Catch you later, babe.”

  So, it was okay for him to call her ‘babe’, huh?

  I lifted my hand to shake Camila’s, cringing at the sight of my ragged fingernails and chipped varnish. Her hand was warm, and she raked her eyes over my face before letting go. I shifted in my seat, feeling somewhat uncomfortable.

  “You have good skin,” she said, dropping her bag and sitting herself on the chair next to mine. “And your green eyes aren’t bad. We’ll emphasize those for your photo shoots.”

  “I’m gonna have photo shoots?” I gasped. “But I’m only the backup singer…”

  “And the only woman on stage.” She smacked her gum. “Honey, you’re kinda pale in comparison with Ella. I’ll use shimmering shadow and black liner on your lids, add some eyelash extensions, lip plumping gloss. Once my assistant and I have worked our magic, you’ll look quite beautiful.”

  “Oh,” I said, at a loss for words.

  Camila whipped a tape measure from her bag. “Stand and I’ll take some measurements. Jake has given me free rein to pick out some outfits for ya.”

  I did as she’d asked, standing still while she measured around my neck, shoulders, bust, waist, hips, thighs and so on. Her touch was cool and professional. “Will you be coming to Europe with us, then?” I inquired.

  “Of course,” her tone implied I’d posed a silly question. “Me and Hayley. We’re stylists for the entire band.”

  I was beginning to wonder just how big ChiMera’s entourage would be when we set off from LAX next month. No doubt I would find out soon enough.

  When Camila had noted down my stats in a small, red notebook, she said she’d be back on Wednesday with the clothes she’ll have chosen. I kind of wished I could choose my own, but what did I know about ‘image’ and ‘style’?

  Tomorrow I was supposed to stay home and practice, but we’d have another rehearsal here the day after. My contract had stipulated I was to be involved in promo work. I needed to ask Jake exactly what I’d signed up for. I was about to go find him when the door swung open, and Axel came into the room.

  “Glad I caught you, Camila,” he said, opening his arms wide.

  Without preamble she ran to him. He hugged her, and she lifted her face to receive his kiss.

  I looked away, not wanting to
see them deepen that kiss. My face had heated with annoyance. I had no clue why I was surprisingly so annoyed. It wasn’t as if I wanted Axel to kiss me.

  No way.

  Except my skin was prickling with pins and needles of stupid unexpected jealousy.

  I made myself look back at them, and they were still hugging.

  Axel’s eyes met mine over Camila’s shoulder, and I forced myself to assume a poker face.

  She’d swung herself around to face me, but she was gripping his arm as if her life depended upon it.

  Nausea swelled my stomach. From Camila’s possessive stance, it was clear to me he’d had sex with her. I didn’t know why I was so affected. He’d had sex with half the female population of the United States, by all accounts.

  His eyes were on mine again, his gaze burning. Why did he keep looking at me? It was like he was trying to gauge what I was thinking.

  Pretending I didn’t give a fuck, which I really didn’t, I checked the time on my watch. “I guess I should be going home,” I said. Then I forced a smile. “Catch ya both later.”

  4

  “Hey!” I ran after Phoenix. “I came to fetch you to be fitted for your in-ear monitors.”

  She stopped in her tracks, whirled around and dragged a hand through her hair. “I didn’t want to get in the way of you and Camila.”

  I stared at Phoenix. “Me and Camila?” Realization dawned. “You think I’m fucking her?”

  “Well, aren’t you?” Phoenix lowered her gaze. “Not that it’s any of my business…”

  I invaded her space, stared down at her. “You work for us. Of course, it’s your business.”

  She raised her head and stared right back at me. “So, are you fucking her?”

  “The guys and I have a rule not to shit where we eat.” I folded my arms across my chest.

  “I hate that expression.” She shuddered.

  “We don’t fuck our co-workers, Phoenix.” I curled my lips. “That expression covers a multitude of sins.”