by Max Henry
“I had no idea what was going down until seconds before I walked on,” he says with a laugh. “Totally threw me in the deep end.”
“Well, you did fantastic.” Valerie glances to her sheet, back straight as a rod as she perches on the front of her foldout seat. “My next question is for you, Emery.”
“Uh-oh.” He laughs.
“Tell us about the incident in LA.”
Bitch. Emery stiffens beside me before answering, “I don’t think we have time to cover that in enough detail, love.” He finishes with a wink.
Nice save.
“Maybe you and I could do a one-on-one later, huh?” She tilts her head to smirk at him.
He remains silent. Kris stares at the floor; Toby’s eyes remain front and center despite the fact he looks a thousand miles away. Smile and wave, boys.
“Now, this tour,” she carries on, unaffected by the fact she just derailed the mood of the interview by bringing up what was probably our worst PR nightmare to date, “you boys are playing things a little differently, aren’t you? Always one to surprise, you’ve decided to release your next album after the shows wrap up. Tell me why that is?”
“Well,” Toby answers, “in today’s day and age of instant access, we wanted to make sure people still had an incentive to come and see us live. Not only that, but it’s a reward for the people who do, getting to see us play the tracks before they’re uploaded for streaming.”
“Nice.” She shifts her gaze to Kris. “What’s your favorite from the album, Kris?”
He stalls at the mention of his name, glancing my way before swallowing away his anxiety and murmuring, “Cold Call.”
Valerie tips her head to the side. “I don’t believe you played that tonight.”
“No,” I say. “We didn’t.” The damn track fucks Kris up for days every time he plays it, so we’re strategically spacing it out across the tour.
We all have the songs that we’ve poured our very being into, and for him “Cold Call” is it.
“Could you give me a little preview?” Valerie looks to each of us expectantly.
I could whip out my phone and play it if I really wanted to, but instead I answer with “No instruments, sweetheart.” I pull my lips into a thin line and squint as I tip my hands palm up in the air.
Emery chuckles, Toby shifting from foot to foot.
“What’s on the agenda once the tour is over? Obviously the new album will release.” She looks down at her page, making a hum. “I don’t believe we have a title for it yet. Can you let the fans know what to look out for?”
“It’s a surprise,” I say with a sly wink.
More like, we can’t fucking decide. We have three options all drawn up, but the four of us can’t pick which one we all like better.
“Well, I certainly look forward to finding out.”
“You’ll be one the first to know,” Toby says.
“What is this?” Valerie asks sweetly. “The fourth time we’ve caught up now? I remember when you boys were starting out in the clubs with private gigs, and now look at you. In the short space of…”
“Five years,” I fill in.
“Five years,” she repeats with a nod. “It’s not the fastest rise to fame I’ve seen, but definitely one of the most impressive. You’ve done all this with no major sponsor, and you’ve also retained your style, refusing to conform to what’s more mainstream. Do you think that edge is what has helped you get where you are?”
“Nope.” I shake my head, crossing my arms high on my chest. “We work hard. We live and breathe our music, drawing inspiration anywhere, anytime. This is what we want to do, and so we give it all we’ve got.”
“An impressive work ethic, for sure.”
“I’m sure you can relate, Valerie?” I cock an eyebrow at her.
She smiles, her gaze positively wolfish. “I sure can, Rey.” The bomb detonates in her eyes before she even opens her mouth to spew the next shower of shit. “The stress has certainly taken its toll on you personally, though. Tell us, because we all love and care about you, are you better now after those unfortunate and traumatic events?”
“The events?” I level with a scoff.
She shrugs off camera, challenge in her smirk.
“You mean, after I tried to top myself?” Her lips fall as she fidgets. “Twice?”
Booyah, bitch.
“Rey has had excellent help,” Toby chimes in, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “And we’re doing great, thanks for your concern.”
“It must have been hard on you especially, being brothers.” Valerie goes in for the kill.
“Blood means nothing,” Kris interjects. “We all felt it the same. We all suffered along with him.”
She seems suitably stunned. Our normally mute band member has felt it necessary to speak up.
You could hear a hairpin drop.
I’m pretty sure one of hers does.
“As always you’ve been a real hoot,” I sass. “Thanks for having us on the blog, V.”
She scowls, aware I’ve probably shaved a minute off the time she was promised. “Likewise.” Her tone doesn’t show her frustration, though. “I’ll catch up with you boys again after the new album is live. Best of luck with the rest of the tour.”
We all give thanks, Emery adding in a shout out to the fans watching.
As soon as her finger hits that damn button to stop recording, my ass leaves the crate. Fuck her shit. Fuck her for bringing up last year, both for Emery and me.
What the fuck is the sabotaging bitch trying to do?
Rick’s eyes go wide as I blaze past him on a mission to get the VIP meet and greets out of the fucking way.
“We’re never doing an interview with that bitch again,” I toss over my shoulder as I hit the stairs.
“Huh?” Rick looks to Toby. “Why?”
My brother hangs back, presumably to fill our manager in on what a jerk she was, as Kris reaches the stairs behind me.
“You okay?”
I slow as I drop off the last step, and half turn to face him. “Yeah. Thanks, man.”
“I can’t believe that woman,” Emery snaps as he barges past the two of us. “Bet the whore would dance on our fucking graves if it gave her a good view count.”
“Don’t let her get to you,” I say, restarting toward the second dressing room.
“Pot, kettle,” Kris murmurs.
I shunt the heel of my hand at the door, flinging it open on eight wide-eyed young women and two very out-of-place-looking guys.
“Who’s ready to party, motherfuckers?”
SIXTEEN
Tabitha
“Face Everything and Rise” – Papa Roach
“We totally could have hung around.” Kendall shrugs her coat a little higher as we wait on the cab. “It’s not too late to go back inside.”
“No.” I shift from foot to foot to try and keep warm, eyes on the road for any sign of our ride. “They’re busy with fans. I’m sure if they want to say anything, they can get my email address, or some shit.”
Kendall reaches into her purse as the cab emerges in the traffic. “I’m totally messaging Toby your details.”
“No!” I slam my hand down on her wrist. “No, please. Just… ugh.” I sigh. Just what? Don’t make me seem so desperate to ride their coattails?
“Fine. But if you change your mind, just say the word.”
I open the car door for her. “Trust me, I won’t.”
She slides across the back seat, giving the driver our address as I get in and shut the door behind me.
“When do you go back for your stuff?”
I stare out at Dark Tide’s name all lit up above the ticket box and frown. “Their roadies are packing everything up tonight because they need it all at the next venue by 2:00 A.M. to have it all set up again in time, so apparently I can come get my things tomorrow.”
“It would have fit in the back, don’t you think?”
I shrug. Probably. It was only m
y violin and small road case. But I guess deep down I had hoped that leaving it behind would give me an opportunity to “run into” the band again.
That was, until I learned Rey and the guys will be shackled to the next venue so they can be prepared for tomorrow night’s much larger, much flashier show. You know, no big deal, just five thousand fucking people. Jesus. What would it even feel like to face an audience that huge?
“Get out of your head,” Kendall grumbles, eyes narrowed.
“Sorry, hon.” I slouch in my seat and roll my head her way. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
Her wicked smile says yes. “You do realize where I was while you did all that preshow stuff, right?”
“I can guess.” Involves a guy that’s six-foot-plus and pierced. Realization hits me like a slap to the face with a wet fish. “You didn’t want to hang around to see if, you know…?”
She tosses a hand through the air between us. “No, don’t be silly. Toby’s busy with their VIPs, and besides, I’m sure they have all that special band stuff to do before they play tomorrow.”
“Like sleep?”
“Do rock stars even sleep?”
She plays it cool, but I can see the disappointment in the set of her lips as she stares straight ahead.
“I’m sorry for being melodramatic.”
“Pfft.” The cab enters our neighborhood. “You’ve had a real roller coaster the last few days. It’s okay.”
I reach across and take her hand. “No, it’s not.”
Kendall looks down at the contact before she squeezes her fingers around mine. I’m not often the touchy feely type of friend, so for me to do this tells her how sorry I am.
“Look at it this way,” she appeases. “Without you and your drama I would be doing something lame like binging Netflix at home and I never would have got to meet Dark Tide one-on-one. So I guess for that, I can put up with your shit a little.”
She chuckles as I squeeze her hand and rest my head against her shoulder. “Love you.”
We stay like that the rest of the cab ride, each lost in our own thoughts of the past couple of days. Midweek I thought I’d be playing a quiet concert to my loyal followers, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, there would be somebody influential out there in the audience. Now here I am, stepping out of the cab at home after not only playing to those same people, but opening for one of the hottest up-and-coming rock bands right now.
Still, I can’t place how I’m going to feel about this one-night stand in the next five, ten, or fifteen years. Will I look back on this with warmth, happy that I got to experience something that will probably never happen again? Or will I look back on it with regret, wishing I had been ruthless and pushed for more through the kinds of connections a band like Dark Tide has?
Easy answer, Tab. I’ve never been an opportunist. Success born from somebody else’s hard work always seems like such a cop-out. Yes, people can openly offer to help and I won’t turn it down, but I’m not the kind to blatantly shove my agenda into somebody else’s schedule.
I have to earn this myself. I have to become who I dream to be through my own hard graft, otherwise the victory seems hollow.
“Um, Tab?” Kendall stops on the landing for our apartment, blocking my view of our door. “You should see this. You’ve got a gift.”
I take the last step and then move around her to search out what she cranes her neck at. Holy shit. A bouquet of flowers—no, not just flowers: long-stem red roses—sit in a glossy white ceramic vase.
“They’re probably for you, you doofus.” Makes the most sense that Toby would be trying to woo her after the way she’s been throwing herself at him.
I carefully lean over the arrangement to punch our code in while Kendall stoops to pluck the card from its plastic sleeve. She gathers the arrangement in her arms and follows me in.
“Nope. Most definitely for you.”
I frown as I set my purse down. “Who from?” Maybe my parents are finally coming around to the idea that their daughter can make a living from music. No way. Nope. Even if they had found out about the concert, they’re not the kind to send flowers.
“One, two, three….” Kendall’s counting fades as she bops her pointer finger above each bloom. “Man, this must have cost a packet. There are twenty of the little critters.” She lets out a low whistle and passes the card over.
I lean my hip against the kitchen counter and flick it open.
Maybe next time I’ll do it traditionally and throw them on stage one by one when you’re done.
- R
“R?” My heart pitter-patters as I set the card down on the counter. “Do you think these are from Rey?”
Kendall shrugs with a silly smile on her face.
“No.” I shake my head. “Has to be their manager, Rick.”
“Awfully personal for him, isn’t it?” she sasses as she heads up the hallway.
“Awfully personal for any of them,” I call after her. “I mean, red roses?”
“Yeah,” she shouts from her bedroom. “He said in the card about doing it traditional. I bet he’s thinking about opera and stuff, how they toss the roses at the singer.”
“Oh.” Ohh…. “What the hell do I make of this?” I dart up the hallway and swing into her room to find her halfway into her sleepwear already. “Don’t abandon me with something like this. I need help.” I fall onto her bed and stare up at the ceiling.
“Jesus, woman. You’re twenty-what? And you still need help deciphering boys?”
“Twenty-four,” I answer. “And he’s not exactly a boy at our age.” I narrow my eyes on her. “How old is he?”
She shrugs before tugging her tank top on. “Fucked if I’d know.” Her arms twist as she sheds her bra from underneath. “Google it.”
I slide off the bed and onto the floor in true dramatic style and then get to my feet to retrieve my phone. A quick search pulls up his date of birth as three years before mine.
“How old is he then?” Kendall walks into the kitchen, suitably dressed for bed. Even her makeup has been removed.
“It really takes you no time at all to go into comfort mode, huh?”
She winks as she pulls a mug from the cabinet. “Girl, I love to go out. Don’t get me wrong. But you know how much I love to bum around as well.”
“True.” She’s spent as much time tearing up a dance floor since we met as she has bingeing TV on the sofa.
“So? Age.”
“Oh.” I check my phone again and redo the math in my head to be sure. “Twenty-seven. His birthday is the tenth of December.”
“Ooo. A Sagittarius.” She waggles her eyebrows.
I hop onto the counter and fold my legs. “Why ‘ooo’?”
“Very outgoing, and very open-minded, if you know what I mean.” She gives a thrust of her hips to cement the point.
I drop my head back and roll my eyes. “Ugh. As if it would ever get to that. They’re flowers, babe. Flowers can be totally platonic.”
“Do you want it to get to that?” She leans her elbows on the counter beside me, popping her butt out behind her as the milk heats.
I frown, stuck for words. Would I? Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, girl. “I don’t know.”
“But you like him, right?”
“He’s a jackass,” I deadpan.
She turns her mouth down and wiggles her head side to side. “I can see that, I guess.”
“He’s arrogant, messed up, and not to mention totally out of my league.”
“How?” she challenges, retrieving her hot mug. “You want one?”
I shake my head. “He’s like famous and shit, and I’m.…”
“Human? Like him?” Kendall cocks an eyebrow as she adds her cocoa.
I reach out with my foot and knock her in the arm. She responds with a “Hey!” as her hot drink sloshes over the side of the mug.
“Sorry.” I pull my jaw back, giving her apologetic eyes.
“Look.” She grabs the cloth to
clean the mess. “All I’m saying is that boundaries are all in your head. It’s a mental block, thinking he’s some untouchable god just because a gazillion people know his name.”
I lift an eyebrow at her.
“Take a horse for example.” Now she’s lost it. “Raise it in fenced paddocks all its life, and then place it on a patch of grass with nothing but a single line of tape around it. Know why it doesn’t try to escape even though it could jump that single line, or knock it down easy enough?”
“Because it’s stupid?”
“Because it believes it can’t up here.” She taps the side of her head. “It has a mental block that’s been trained into it. Nothing physically stops it from leaving, just like nothing physically stops you from getting in touch with Rey to say thank you. It’s all in your head, Tab.”
“Do you really think they’re from him?” I look to the bunch, suitably impressed with how full and symmetrical the blooms are.
“Who else would they be from?” She takes her mug across to her purse, and then retrieves her phone. “I’m messaging Toby now to say you want Rey to know the flowers were beautiful.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” I slide off the counter and leg it for her.
She lifts her phone high with an, “Ah, ah, ah! I have a hot drink in my hand.”
Ugh. “Seriously, don’t though. What if Toby doesn’t know he did this? Don’t embarrass him.”
Kendall narrows her gaze on me, lips firm. “Fine. But you have to promise me you’ll get in touch with Rick to find out Rey’s number so you can thank him yourself.” Her eyes go wide. “Or even better, stalk him on Facebook and send a message.”
“Probably be easier,” I cede.
“Do it now.” She takes a smug sip of her cocoa. “I want to see the message when you’re done.”
I return to where I left my phone on the counter with a groan. “Why do you always have to be so difficult?”
“Because it gets results, babe. It gets results.”
SEVENTEEN
Rey
“Paralyzer” – Finger Eleven
“How the fuck are we supposed to get him on stage for sound check in four hours?”
“Fucked if I know. You were the douchebag who brought out shots.”
