Bullet Series Box Set Books 1-8

by Jade C. Jamison

  “All right, guys. Ready to hear me out?”

  Ethan growled, “If you’re done nagging like a bitch.”

  Ethan was getting under his skin today, and he’d get nowhere if he let him. So he took a deep breath and pretended his friend hadn’t said anything. “I have a question first. What’d you guys think of Val when she sang with us?”

  Zane didn’t hesitate. “She’s got a great voice. And the guys seem to really like her.”

  Guys? “What guys?”

  “The guys in the audience. They dig her. She looks hot with a mike in her hand.”

  Brad felt a little green monster rear its ugly head in his gut, and he had to fight it. Maybe that was true, but that wasn’t what Brad was thinking…or wanting. “Yeah, but singing…what do you think?”

  “She kicks ass.”

  Nick said, “Yeah, she really does. She wrote the song you guys sang, right?” Brad nodded. “I think that’s why she put so much emotion into it. She has solid pipes, man.” He tilted his head. “What are you thinking?”

  Ethan had been unusually quiet, and Brad didn’t want to show his cards until he knew what his brother thought. “Ethan?”

  His friend scowled again—something that was becoming a frequent occurrence—and then lit another cigarette. “If you’re thinking what I think you are…”

  “Just answer the goddamned question.”

  “What was it?”

  “What did you think of Val onstage?”

  Ethan took a long draw on the cigarette in his hand and seemed to consider it. “She was good, I guess.”

  Well…for him to admit it, even if in a noncommittal way, said something to Brad. “Guys, I’m thinking she might be just what we need to move to the next level.” He let that sink in for a few moments. They didn’t quite know what to think, but he could see them processing it. Time to drive forward. “You guys know she’s a phenomenal songwriter. Her words blow ours to utter shame, and if you deny it, you’re fucking liars.”

  They all nodded, including Ethan, and that was telling, because out of the two of them, Ethan was the better songwriter. The guy had deep wells of pain to draw from, and when he focused on the pain and driving it through the pen onto paper and into his music, he was brilliant. More often than not, though, Ethan preferred to drown the pain in booze and drugs, squandering any writing talent he had.

  “But she’s a great singer too. For not practicing at all, she was amazing. And you can tell she’s into it. I think once she got over being nervous, she could take us to the next level.” Ethan blew out a cloud of smoke, ready to protest, but Brad interrupted. “No, think about it. Ethan, you and me, man…we’re doing double duty. Wouldn’t it be nice to just focus on your axe, concentrate on perfecting your skills? Instead, we’re so busy singing too that our attention’s divided. Rhythm, lead, it doesn’t matter. I know I personally could get a thousand times better if I wasn’t worried about singing too—and keeping the audience excited and engaged.”

  Zane said, “So…do we try her out or what?”

  “Well—yes and no. I mean…we already tried her out, right? And she passed with flying colors.”

  Ethan said, “I don’t know about flying colors.”

  “Still—she kicked ass, right?” There was general consensus around the room. “As far as a trial period, don’t you think now’s the time to talk to her first? What if she thinks we’re fucking stupid? What if she says no?” That’s where Brad felt confident—he didn’t think she would. He’d seen the draw of the stage, the way the siren call of metal had pulled Val in, and he would be shocked if she turned them down. Either that, or he would have underestimated Val’s future plan for herself. But he was damn sure she would jump on the offer. “So—what do you say?”

  They didn’t know it at the time, but their group affirmation to Brad’s proposal would change all of their lives forever.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  BRAD DROVE TO Val’s house, the trailer attached to his van and all the gear and equipment already tucked and stowed away. He hoped he was remembering the route (and the house) correctly from the night before. It had been dark, and he’d been in an overly emotional state, so he didn’t know if his memories were impaired.

  At least the hard part was over. He was certain Val would be an easy sell. He didn’t think he’d misread her—not one bit. She might take a little convincing, but he had no doubts in his mind that she wanted to do it.

  He couldn’t figure out what Ethan’s problem was, though. As they were loading up the van, his friend had said, “Yeah…this is just an elaborate excuse to get into her pants.” That wasn’t it. Not at all. Would he love to get into her pants? Hell, yeah, and he wouldn’t deny it, but asking her to sing for them wasn’t just a complicated ruse to deflower her. Instead, it was the natural end result of what Brad had seen in her eyes, that despite all her protests, she dreamed about the stage. And she really was a hell of a writer. They’d be fucking idiots to let her go without even trying to extend some kind of offer.

  He cared about Valerie, and that was part of what had driven him to ask. He hoped that, unlike Ethan, she could see that. And that was why he was going to go to her house alone. He didn’t need Ethan fucking it up before she’d even had a chance to hear him out.

  But as he got closer there, he thought he’d need all his friends to help convince her to do it. His goal instead would be to get her to come to the pizza joint where the guys were already hanging out.

  So he pulled up to the modest two-story unassuming house painted white. The yard was immaculate, with a matching white picket fence out front—pretty cliché, and yet it didn’t surprise Brad at all. He hadn’t paid much attention to the fence or the color of the house the night before in the dark, but in the stark light of day, he couldn’t help but notice it.

  He made his way up the walk and wondered who would answer the door. He’d already had a few experiences with adults not caring for the way he looked. Leah’s dad had hated the fact that he didn’t have short hair, and now he had visible tattoos as well. He didn’t care what most older people thought, but he found himself nervous about what Val’s parents might think.

  He took a deep breath before he rang the doorbell. He had to get his shit under control. He wouldn’t do well at all if he looked like a fumbling, nervous idiot. He took another breath and punched the button. Better to just get it over with.

  Several seconds passed and he started wondering if anyone was home. But he thought he’d heard something inside. Finally, the inner wooden door swung open, and it was answered by a teenage boy, probably only two or three years younger than Brad. He had light brown hair that was long enough to touch his collar, but Brad noticed that the kid had the same eyes and lips as Val. He had to be her brother. The kid looked distracted and maybe even a little irritated, and Brad quickly saw why. He had a PlayStation controller in his hand. Brad had interrupted his game. Maybe he was the only one home, or he’d been waiting for someone else.

  And why the fuck was Brad worried about that shit?

  Another breath. “Is Val home?”

  “Yeah.” The kid pushed the screen door open, and Brad grabbed it, following the kid inside. He didn’t exactly invite Brad in, but Brad took his cue. He walked inside the house and paused at the foot of some stairs in the hallway. He yelled, “Val, the door!”

  It wasn’t long before Val was at the top of the stairs, and her little brother had disappeared. She looked as beautiful as ever, but she looked almost bashful, and he guessed it was because she was feeling a little funny about the previous night’s proceedings. He didn’t want her to feel guilty for telling him no. He’d gotten over it. So he smiled back at her, letting her know no hard feelings as she descended the stairs.

  Once there, she walked around him. “Come in,” she said, inviting him into the living room. They both sat on the sofa and she asked, “So…what’s up?”

  He reminded himself of his new goal—to just get her to come talk to t
he guys. Together, the four of them could convince her. As awkward as he could tell she felt, she wouldn’t agree to it with him by himself. She also needed to know the whole band had agreed on it. “Me and the guys wanted to talk to you about something before we blow town.”

  “What?”

  “We’re gonna eat a late lunch before we go. The guys are already at a pizza place downtown. Can you join us for a few minutes?”

  He thought he could see some hesitation, but she agreed. “Sure.” She stood. “I need to let my mom and dad know, though.” She walked out of the living room, and he followed her back down the hall. She turned and yelled down some stairs that led to a basement. “Hey, mom, is it okay if I go hang with my band friends for a while before they leave?”

  He could hear her mother, but she only appeared at the foot of the stairs when she was done talking. “Where are you going to be?” Crazy—he could see the resemblance with her mother too. Her mother’s hair was lighter, almost blonde, but she had the same cheeks Valerie did—he could see Valerie in her smile.

  “Napoli, I think.”

  “Oh, is this Ethan?”

  Like he needed the confirmation that Val talked about Ethan constantly, but he was nothing. Still, he wasn’t going to let it make him a rude bastard. The woman was walking up the stairs toward them when he said, “No, I’m Brad Payne, Mrs. Quinn.” Her mother was already walking up the stairs, so he held his hand out to her as she got near him.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand. Then she looked at Val. “I’m sure that’s fine, hon. What time do you think you’ll be home?”

  “I should have her home in two hours or less.”

  “Have fun, kids.” Well, that had been easy.

  * * *

  It didn’t take long to get to the restaurant. Brad had played music on the way there so they could chill. He wasn’t ready to make the sales pitch. They walked into the semi-dark restaurant. As his eyes adjusted, Brad spotted the guys at a table not far in. A hostess had started approaching, but Brad pointed to the table and said, “We’re with them.”

  Once they got there, Zane said, “We ordered one pepperoni and one with everything and a couple pitchers—one Pepsi, one Dr. Pepper. Is that okay?”

  Brad said, “That’s fine.” The guys, all wanting to appear cool or masculine or who knew what, all sat with a chair between them, so there was no way Brad could sit next to Val without making a big deal out of it and making someone else move. So he sat between Nick and Zane.

  Val then sat between Zane and Ethan and asked the waitress to bring her a glass of water.

  Brad poured soda in one of the empty glasses. “Okay, guys. Who wants to tell her?”

  Ethan sat up. “I will.” Brad tried not to sigh aloud. He was going to trust his friend, but if the guy fucked it up, he’d have a lot to answer for. That was what Brad got for not keeping total control, but he knew he had to trust his bandmates. Ethan looked sincere, though, even if he’d looked irritable earlier. Maybe he could convince Val. “All four of us have talked about this seriously, and we want you to sing for the band.” Val raised her eyebrows, but Ethan was moving in for the kill. “You probably already know Brad’s lined up a bunch of shows this summer, and we want you to go with us.”

  She was quiet. Really quiet. For a long time. Brad could almost see the gears turning, though. She was giving it real thought. Finally, she said, “So…what would I do? Just sing?”

  “Yeah…sing.”

  “But then what would you and Brad do?”

  Ethan shrugged. “We could sing on occasion and even do a duet or two, but we could focus more on honing our guitar skills. I mean…we’re good, but we wanna be great. And we need a frontman—er, woman—who can really interact with the crowd. That’s harder to do when you have a guitar strapped to you. We need someone to stir them up, make them energetic, and I know you could do that.”

  Goddamn. Ethan was doing it, and he wasn’t doing a half-assed job. He needed some backup, though. Brad added, “And face it, Val. We can’t hold a candle to your voice. The crowds ate it up both nights. They really like you.”

  He could see it, the doubt in her eyes. She wanted to believe what they were saying but was afraid to. “Yeah, but what if that’s only because it’s something different?”

  Ethan was losing his patience. “Would you stop that already? Give us a good reason why you can’t.”

  She deflated like a balloon. “Oh…I can give you more than one.”

  Zane asked, “Like what?”

  “My job.”

  Ethan looked incredulous. “You have a job?”

  “What? Like that’s so unexpected? Yeah…I babysit two girls Monday through Friday from now through the first week of August.”

  “So? Give ‘em your two-week notice.”

  “I can’t do that. It was a difficult decision for them to hire me as it was.” The waitress set a glass of water in front of Val. She tried to be as invisible as possible, vanishing as quickly as she’d appeared. “Besides…that’s the easy problem.”

  “So tell us.”

  “I don’t think my parents will let me.”

  “Fuck your parents. You’re a grown woman.”

  Brad could see Val’s figurative feathers ruffle at Ethan’s suggestion, and whatever good will he’d won he was flushing down the toilet. Brad didn’t want to lose her just because Ethan had decided at the last minute to be crude, crass, and cruel. He leaned in closer and said, “You could ask.” He wanted Valerie in the band for so many reasons, and not for the reasons Ethan assumed. He wanted it for her—for the hope and desire he’d seen in her eyes. He knew too that she’d be good for them. It was a win-win, as far as he was concerned.

  “Okay. So let’s say for some strange reason my parents have been replaced by pod people and say yes. Then what? I already told you I’m not going to ditch my job, and I’m sure you’d need to practice with me, and I doubt all your shows are Saturdays only, and—” She was doubting, still looking for easy reasons to say no. He had to make her think of the possibilities, rather than the negatives.

  “Whoa, Val,” Brad said, reaching across the table to grab Val’s hands. He needed her to focus on him and just believe. He looked in her eyes, hoping they said more than his words could. “Why don’t you ask your parents? If they say yes and you want to do it, then we can figure out the rest. One step at a time.”

  It sunk in. Her eyes scanned his, as though she were looking for all the answers inside them. And she did—he could see the trust between them, and that’s when he knew she was taking it seriously. And that meant she had a fighting chance.

  The food came and she didn’t eat; instead, she asked about their upcoming shows, and he could see her getting more and more excited. Yeah, the idea of being in a band and performing live was enticing to her. She was letting it sink in.

  So when they were done eating, Brad asked, “You want us to talk to your parents with you? Let them know we’re legit?”

  Val smiled. “No. Trust me. It’s better if I do it myself.”

  Brad nodded. “That’s cool.”

  “I promise I’ll text you later and let you know.” Brad nodded at her until she said, “But don’t get your hopes up.”

  Then he frowned and hoped she could see it in his eyes: Believe.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  THE TRIP HOME was long, hot, and tiring, and he swore he’d never heard guys bitch as much as his three bandmates did that day. He didn’t feel much sympathy, though, because they’d done it to themselves, partying way too hard. He hoped they’d take it as a lesson and learn to do things in moderation. He finally told them all to shut up and stop whining and said two of them could lie down on the seats in the back and one could recline in the passenger seat up front. Then he turned up the music (not too loud so as to disturb their delicate conditions) and drove.

  As Val had suggested, he tried not to get his hopes up, but it was difficult. No matter how he felt about Val a
s a maturing woman, he cared about this same woman who was becoming his close friend. He cared about her hopes and dreams for the future. She made him smile and laugh, and every time he saw her, he felt better—about everything. If they could make music together—and become successful—he would be happy, even if their relationship (if he could call it that) never progressed.

  They hadn’t heard a word from Val all afternoon, and she said she’d text with the answer. The longer it went that he hadn’t heard from her made him more and more apprehensive. The longer it took, the more he believed that the news wouldn’t be good when she did contact him.

  They got home and unloaded. Brad would take the trailer back to the rental place the next day when they were open. He visited with his mom for a while until she had to go to work, and then he made some dinner. He was feeling anxious but didn’t feel like he could give anything real focus until he knew, so he plinked on his guitar for a while until his phone made a buzz on the nightstand.

  He saw Val’s name.

  He took a deep breath and picked up the phone to read the text on screen. If u guys r serious, I’ll b ur singer!

  He couldn’t text back. News like that deserved a phone call. When she answered her phone, he said, “Fuck, yeah! I’m glad you agreed, Val.”

  “It was an easy decision. The hard part was convincing my parents to let me do it.”

  “I’m glad you did. I’ll email you the show dates tomorrow morning, and you can let me know how that fits in your schedule. Then I’ll email you all the songs we’ve recorded so you can learn them. I can do a couple rough cuts of the newer ones that we haven’t recorded.”

  “Shouldn’t we practice together?”

  “Yeah, but…look over the schedule first, and then maybe we can figure out some times.”