Becoming Faith (JackholeS Book 3)

by Joy Eileen

  Lissa, Dirk, and Randal watched the whole exchange with curiosity. Lissa’s eyes were squinty. Her face screamed she wanted to wash her hands of us already.

  Kill held out his hand to shake Dirk’s and Randal’s. The rest of the boys did the same, shifting back to professionals. Randal was the label’s representative, which I’d guessed by his more professional attire. Dirk was producing the JackholeS album. Kill had explained earlier, Dirk had been in a famous ’80s band I’d never heard.

  After the introductions, we sat down in the booth. None of us knew what to say or do. This was new and uncharted territory and it made everyone antsy. There was an awkward silence as we studied our menus. Kill’s leg was tight next to mine. On my other side, D’s leg wouldn’t stop bouncing.

  “I’m really excited to work with you guys on this project,” Dirk finally said after we ordered our drinks.

  The boys perked up at the mention of their music. This was their passion. The shaky ground they were on seconds before vanished.

  “It’s going to be awesome. I heard the album you produced for the Dirty Pussycats. You did an amazing job,” D said, leaning in closer to the table.

  “We were fucking stoked when we heard you wanted to produce this record,” Jet replied, taking a sip of his beer.

  “I know you said Faith wouldn’t be on the album. I was hoping to convince her to do a vocal for one track.” Dirk winked at me behind his beer bottle.

  “That wasn’t in the contract,” Lissa interjected, sitting up straighter, which was a feat in itself as her posture was already stiff.

  “Calm down, Lissa. We can talk about it later. Let’s just enjoy our meal,” Randal said, giving me a curious stare.

  Kill squeezed my leg, while Randal and Lissa glared at each other. My hands were sweaty and I rubbed them on my jeans. Kill squeezed me again. He knew how much I hated being in the spotlight. His body language was telling me he supported me in whatever decision I made.

  “We never discussed me doing a song with the boys. I guess I would be open to do something with them,” I said with hesitation. It never crossed my mind they would want me to be on their album.

  Lissa scoffed, and Kill went rigid next to me. It was my turn to calm him before Lissa dug herself further in a hole. I placed my hand on his, squeezing it to let him know it was okay.

  “Faith would rock on the album. We’ve been trying to get her to officially join the band forever. But she isn’t into all the fame,” Jet explained. His hand wrapped around his beer bottle so tight his knuckles were white.

  The whole band felt the strain building around the table. Lissa was already on their radar. Her tiny scoff had missiles aimed and ready to launch.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Lissa replied sarcastically. She was clueless on how close she was to losing the band. I pressed down harder on Kill’s hand to keep it from flying out from under the table.

  Before any of us could reply, the waitress showed up and took our food order.

  After the waitress left, Dirk tried to get rid of the uncomfortable silence blanketing the table. I hoped the boys took the bait and shook off Lissa’s dumbassness.

  “So do you guys have something in mind for your cover?” He ran his hands through his long hair, showing off his crooked teeth.

  “What did your comment about Faith mean?” Van asked, not allowing Dirk to distract him.

  Bailey let out an annoyed huff on the side of him, receiving the most vicious evil eye Amy had created in her life.

  “Now, Donavan,” Randal interrupted in a placating tone, which sounded eerily like D when he was in manager mode.

  “It’s Van,” we replied as a group.

  “Lissa’s one of the best label reps we have. We assigned her to your band because you guys have the potential to be superstars. The response the JackholeS had as an opening band was a testament you’re star material. Lissa’s been with the company many years. She knows what she’s doing.” Randal’s face turned red as he sang Lissa’s praises.

  “I understand that,” Kill started to say, his hand clenching my thigh as frustration streamed off him.

  “Killian, you have to understand I’ve seen this many times,” Lissa cut Kill off before he could continue. “Fame can change people and annihilate couples. I’m just worried that maybe Faith doesn’t have the band’s best intentions at heart. Where I can assure you, all of my intentions are to make the band successful.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you’ll get nothing out of this when we become world famous,” Jet mocked.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I think our band will benefit if we’re assigned another rep.” D’s eyes were pinned on Randal.

  “Now let’s calm down. Lissa was out of hand in saying that,” Randal responded, his face glowing under the red lights of the restaurant.

  “Fuck this. I told you we have no problem going back and playing where our family’s intentions are not questioned.” Kill moved to scoot out of the booth, his hand hooked in mine.

  “Wait,” Lissa yelled, getting the attention of most of the diners. “You’re right. This industry has made me insensitive. I didn’t mean to insult your band. I’ll be on my best behavior.” Lissa made eye contact with each of the band members and dutifully disregarded the females at the table.

  “I don’t think so. You didn’t even apologize to Faith. Come on, guys.” Kill clutched my hand, and the whole band moved to leave.

  Randal chased after us. “Hey, guys, come on. If you really want Lissa off the account, I’ll find you someone else. I have to tell you that she’s the best. Don’t blow this opportunity. Just talk about it.” He smiled a schmoozing business smile that made Kill roll his eyes.

  “Hold on, Randal. Let me talk to them and I’ll come back with our decision,” D said.

  Randal nodded before going back to the table and leaving us to talk, his posture not as confident as it had been when we showed up.

  We followed D out of the restaurant and circled around each other in the parking lot.

  “Fuck this,” Jet said with his arm slung around Amy.

  “I agree,” Van added.

  “Are you kidding me? You guys are about to make it big. You’re going to let some stupid bitch ruin it for you?” Bailey said in a disgusted tone.

  “I hope you’re fucking talking about Lissa,” Killed hissed at her, looking at Van.

  “Whatever. You guys are idiots.” She twirled her hair and pulled her phone out.

  “She’s right,” I said.

  Everyone glanced at me with surprised looks.

  “Slick?”

  “Listen, Lissa’s the best. Or at least that’s what Randal thinks, and with as many albums he has under his belt, he would know. Sure, she’s a stupid bitch, but she’s the best. I don’t care what she thinks about me. We know what we’re doing here.” I resisted the urge to look at Bailey when I mentioned our reasons for being with the band. “I love you, guys. I want this to happen. Honestly, this isn’t going to be the last time someone says something stupid. Let’s show them that their opinions don’t matter. Let her do her job, and fuck her for the rest of it.”

  D winked at me. “And this is why I love you. What do you say, guys?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this, sis?” Van pulled away from Bailey to stand in front of me. “You don’t have to do this.” His forehead was scrunched as he rubbed his large hand over his bald head.

  “Yes, let’s give them the middle finger by showing them how fucking wrong they are,” I answered with conviction.

  Van grabbed me and swung me around. “If that’s what you want.”

  “That’s what I want.”

  “So it’s settled?” D clapped his hands together.

  All of our eyes settled on Kill. He was clueless to everyone’s attention since all of his was focused on me. I watched helplessly while he searched my face with determination. Van’s arms loosened until they fell to his side.

  I put my hands on each side
of his face. “It’s okay, Killer. I know this is going against every fiber of your being, but I’m okay with it. Let’s just do us.”

  “You’re amazing,” he said. His hands came up, covering mine on his face.

  “I am pretty amazing. Now come on, let’s go back in there and show them the JackholeS cannot be messed with.”

  “Hell yeah,” Jet said, shaking me by the shoulders.

  “All right, let’s do this.” D patted me on the back.

  “You guys are dumb.” Bailey stomped back toward the restaurant in her hooker boots.

  “Van, I’m going to beat that bitch down if you don’t get her in check,” Amy ground out, glaring at her retreating back.

  Van let out a sigh as he scuffed his combat boot on the pavement. “Sorry, Amy. You know I love you. Let me know if she does anything to you,” Van told her, still not looking up from his shoes.

  “You big lug, I love you too. I’m sorry. We just want you to be happy.” Amy’s tiny arms wrapped around Van’s middle, not meeting around the back to touch.

  Van hugged her back. During their moment, we walked back toward the restaurant. Amy caught up before we reached the door, jumping on Jet’s back so he could carry her the rest of the way to the table. Van came to the table a couple of seconds later.

  Randal, Dirk, and Lissa were in a heated conversation when we approached. D cleared his throat when they didn’t look up. All three heads snapped to attention as they waited to hear what D was going to say.

  “We don’t want to be labeled as hard to work with. We just want to have boundaries when it comes to our band. And by band I mean Faith, Amy, and Bailey will be treated as if they’re a part of the band. We just want to receive the same respect we’ll give you. This is something we’ve worked hard for. We aren’t just some punk band that wants to do drugs and screw groupies. If you can accept this, then I don’t see there being any more problems. We’ll work hard for you if you respect our requests.

  “Lissa, we understand you’ve been in this industry and probably have seen some fucked up shit. If you can recognize we aren’t like the normal bands you’ve dealt with, then I don’t see any reason why we can’t work together.” D shuffled into the booth, his speech done.

  Kill’s arm spasmed around me. I looked up at him to see him staring at D with his half smile in place.

  I leaned in and whispered, “He did well.”

  Kill winked at me as he slid in next to D. Randal signaled for the waitress to bring the food.

  “I think we can accommodate you. We appreciate your professionalism,” Randal said, his food appearing in front of him.

  “I agree. Thank you for understanding,” Lissa said, looking down at her food.

  “Okay, let’s dig in. I’m eager to start this process. With your passion, I can’t wait to see what we can get out of you in the recording studio.” Dirk smiled at D before digging into his food.

  Dinner was quiet. This would be the first of many times the band would have to push back to the demands pressed on them. I was proud they held their ground. Thankfully, they would always have the upper hand, because even though this was something they dreamed of, they weren’t so invested they were willing to give up their morals.

  The band discussed songs with Dirk. Randal and Lissa kept quiet, knowing they’d just dodged a huge loss. After everything was paid for, we climbed into the van in silence. Gunther drove us to the studio the boys would be recording in.

  The negative feelings dissipated as soon as the boys walked into the studio. Excitement surrounded them as they went into the sound booth and started singing one of their more popular songs, a cappella.

  “Faith, get in here,” Van yelled at me.

  I shook my head, having fun just watching them play like little boys in the booth. Amy and I giggled at them, while Bailey stood on the side, typing away on her phone, not giving them any attention at all.

  “Get your sexy ass in here, Slick.”

  “You know you want to see what it’s like,” Dirk told me while he played around on the soundboard.

  “All right.” I ran in the booth to the cheering boys. Even though I knew nothing was being recorded, butterflies attacked the inside of my stomach. We sang a couple songs together.

  Randal signaled for us to come out of the booth. Lissa stood next to him, her mouth pinched to the side.

  Amy attached herself to Jet’s side, and Bailey continued to do whatever the hell she was doing.

  “You guys sounded amazing. Faith, you have to do a song at the end. It would be epic.” Dirk hit a couple of buttons, and what we’d just done filtered from the speakers attached to the ceiling.

  “Holy shit, we sound fucking awesome,” Jet said, kissing Amy on the forehead.

  “I can’t wait to get this started. We’ll start working on what songs you guys want to do tomorrow. I don’t want to waste time. The album will be set to drop in June. With singles being released in April and May. That gives us a little under six months to get it done,” Dirk said, shaking Kill’s hand.

  “They have time to go over songs tomorrow before their radio interview,” Lissa announced, her attention on her tablet.

  “Well, guys, that was our time for the night. Another band’s coming in right now. It was a pleasure finally meeting you. Lissa will take good care of you. Give me a call if you need anything.” Randal shook our hands and went out of the studio, just as a group of shaggy looking guys started filing in.

  Dirk and the boys talked animatedly about what they wanted to do as we made our way outside. Their enthusiasm was entertaining to watch

  Gunther opened the door, and after saying our goodbyes, we drove home while the boys continued to talk about their sets. During the drive, Amy and I made a list of what we wanted to do while we were here. We tried, for the sake of Van, to include Bailey. She shot us down when we asked her if she wanted to join us. Shrugging our shoulders, we continued making plans.

  Chapter 5

  Lissa was at the house bright and early the next morning. D made sure every one was downstairs before she got there. He was determined to prove to her they weren’t some ordinary band.

  We got a dose of what Lissa had to deal with when we got home from the recording studio. The other band living on the other side of the house, Cockfight, was in full blown rockstar style.

  Lissa followed us in her tiny sports car to check on her other clients and to make sure we got home safely. The bass bumped so loud we could hear it before Gunther opened the door.

  Lissa beat us to the door. She swung the thick wooden doors open and blew a whistle to get everyone’s attention.

  There were naked women running through the house, dripping wet from what I hoped to be the pool. The music was up full blast, pumping through the speakers. The place was trashed.

  “Holy shit, that whistle gave me high school gym class flashbacks.” Jet shivered.

  We stood back by the door, waiting to see what Lissa was going to do.

  “I bet you were something in high school,” I said, picturing his poor gym teacher, whistle in his mouth, blowing his heart out trying to get Jet to pay attention.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jet asked, not even trying to keep his face straight. “You know, I think you underestimate my powers of keeping you guys on your toes. You would be so bored if I wasn’t around.”

  “You’re right. I can’t imagine life without you,” I told him.

  Kill chuckled next to me.

  “It would have a lot less semen references in it if you weren’t around,” D added, while we watched Lissa storm farther inside.

  Naked women flooded out of the house, holding their clothes and shoes in their hands.

  “Man, some of those aftermarkets were worse than Bambi’s,” Jet said.

  A stream of boobs flew by us, screaming and laughing while they made their way down the driveway.

  “Ewww, I haven’t thought of her in weeks. Why did you have to bring her up?” Amy grimaced.r />
  We made our way into the house now that the river of breasts trickled down.

  “What the fuck, Lissa?” a skinny guy yelled, covering his naked genitalia with a pillow off the couch, confirming, I really didn’t want to touch anything downstairs.

  “You signed a contract, Gram. This is the label’s house. No out of control parties, remember?” Lissa screamed, her face red all the way up to her severe bun.

  The guy she was yelling at, Gram, who was wearing nothing but a pillow, smiled. His dark hair hung by his ears in greasy, stringy lumps. He sported a full beard, filled with what I assumed was food. His bloodshot brown eyes were glazed over as he smirked at Lissa’s outrage.

  “Babe, you gotta loosen up, if you think that was out of control,” Gram retorted. His eyes connected with Bailey and he shot her a smile. “Well, hello,” he said, reaching out his hand.

  Bailey giggled and pushed her overinflated chest out, taking his hand. “Hi.”

  “I’m Gram, the guitarist for Cockfight. And you are?”

  “Gram, cut it out. We need to discuss this. You’re in direct violation of your contract,” Lissa stated, not giving Bailey a chance to respond.

  “Listen, this is how rock’n’roll is, babe.”

  “Call me babe one more time—” Lissa was interrupted by the sound of vomiting.

  “Gram, I think we need to call an ambulance,” a male voice shouted where the sound of splashing vomit was coming from.

  Lissa shot Gram a sharp look before running toward the noise. We followed after her.

  A blond girl in just her bikini bottoms was on all fours, puking on the tiled floor. A guy clad in board shorts leaned over her, holding her hair out of the way. He looked up when he heard Lissa’s heels clack on the floor.

  “What did she take, Chester?” Lissa asked. She kneeled down next to the girl, staring at her with no emotion on her face.

  “I’m not sure. There was a lot of shit floating around tonight,” Chester answered slowly, backing away from the girl.