by Claire Adams
“I can’t believe how late we slept in,” I said, grabbing each of us a water from the fridge.
“Well, I don’t think either of us slept too well out in San Diego,” she replied with a mischievous grin on her face.
“I actually got plenty of sleep, unlike you. Granted, it was on a couch in the lounge, so it wasn't the comfiest night ever,” I joked, stabbing my fork into the salad. “You’re the one that didn’t get much sleep, Missy. You were far too busy with other things, I believe.”
“Guilty as charged.” Grace held a hand up and smiled before taking another forkful. We both giggled.
“Seriously, though, I had a fun time at the club, even though we weren't exactly there for too long. I really love Le Venin,” I said. I actually did have fun, despite playing wing woman to Grace while she got some. In spite of that, it had just been really nice to get away for a little while, and I always liked going to the beach down there.
“It was a fun trip,” she agreed, taking another bite. “God, this salad is so good. You really do have a talent for whipping these things up.”
“Speaking of 'tossing the salad,' I wonder if that guy knew who he was banging,” I said, snickering. “Grace Nelson, starlet of The Turning Globe.”
That devious grin came back over her face. “He had no idea at all, girl. None whatsoever! Just imagine if he happens across a commercial for it. I think it's safe to say he'll get quite a shock!”
We both giggled again, imagining the poor guy’s reaction.
“Speaking of the show, what’s your new co-star like? Eric Donovan, was it?”
“Ugh, he’s a total ass,” she groaned as she rolled her eyes, stabbing at the salad again. “He's got a serious attitude problem. But he's really stacked down below, though, if you know what I mean.”
“Wait, what? You already banged him?” I nearly choked on my salad. Grace gave me a helpless shrug, and I just rolled my eyes and shook my head. The woman was insatiable, it seemed—and far too reckless about it. This was not the first time this had happened, not by a long shot.
“Come on, Grace; I'm not trying to be judgmental or anything, I’m really not, but isn’t that how you ended up having problems with the last guy? I mean, you do know that old saying about not shitting where you eat, and all that?” I raised an eyebrow at her.
“Maybe. It didn't matter anyway, though. The writers killed him off, and that was that, problem solved,” Grace grinned.
“Just be careful with that untamable libido of yours, or they might kill you off next,” I warned her. “We don't need you being out of work as well as me. Gosh, imagine that! What a train wreck it would be, the pair of us both unemployed!”
“The writers wouldn't kill me off. Well, not right now, anyway. I’m the most popular character on the show… But yeah, I get what you’re saying. I know it's best to keep work and play separate, so I’ll try to behave. The keyword there, of course, is try. I'm not about to make promises I can't keep when I'm surrounded by hot guys all the time!” She winked at me and grabbed her water.
Eventually, we managed to finish off the salad, and thirty minutes later, we decided to go for a long jog. I went upstairs and changed into a sports bra, running shorts, and a tank top. Pulling my hair back into a quick bun, I rushed back downstairs. Grace was already dressed and ready to go and was just busy tying her sneakers. We grabbed our sunglasses before heading out into the heat, ready to work up a good sweat.
I put in my headphones to block out any catcalls and followed her down the street. L.A. was crowded, as it always was. I both loved and hated living amongst all the people. Sometimes it was inspiring and energizing, but other times I found it downright draining, overwhelming, and exhausting. L.A. definitely hadn't been my first choice in living destinations.
I’d come out with Grace long ago when she landed her first job as an actress, but the difference between her and I was that I didn’t have to stay like she did. Nothing was holding me to this place. I could go anywhere I wanted, in theory at least. Why I hadn’t, I wasn’t sure. Maybe I’d just gotten comfortable staying in L.A. with my best friend, or maybe I was a little too scared of change. The thought of striking out on my own into unknown territory was more than a little intimidating.
I had also thought I could do more with my music by being in L.A., but, so far, everything I tried in that regard had proved fruitless. And what was more, passing all the billboards as we ran most days didn’t do much for my ego in that department. They were usually filled with new bands or singers being promoted because they’d managed to strike gold and get signed on with a label, unlike me. Their smiling success was a constant mockery of my constant failure. Today was no exception.
We came to an intersection, and the walk signal flashed, so Grace and I went to go. As we did, a horn blared, and Grace grabbed my arm, tugging me out of the way just quick enough to avoid both of us getting hit by some asshole in a convertible.
“Hey! We have the right of way, jerk wad!” I shouted after the car, tugging off my headphones. Both Grace and I frowned at each other, continuing across the street.
“Sometimes I really hate it out here,” she grumbled, breathing heavily as she jogged. “There really are so many entitled, arrogant assholes in this part of the country.”
“Yeah, some of these people really get to me. And, the place itself gets to me at times, as well, I hate to say.”
“You know, I’m stuck out here, but you’re not,” Grace said, as if she’d been reading my mind. “You don't have anything chaining you to this place. No job, no boyfriend, no family. You could be anywhere you want to be.”
“I know,” I admitted as I jogged next to her. “Trust me, it's something that's been on my mind a lot. Especially on days like this.”
“Maybe you should go somewhere else. At least, for a bit. You know, give some other place a try while you still have the freedom to do that.”
“You want me to leave? Trying to get rid of me for your one-night stands?” I asked her with a hint of laugh.
“Yep, that’s it,” she fired back. “No, but seriously, Nalia. I know you want to travel and see the world. Maybe it’s about time you do that. You're only young and free once. Me, I'm living out my dream, kind of at least, even if it means I have to be here. But you, you're not.
“So, maybe you should look for a job that travels some. And, let's keep our fingers crossed because that job you put in for will help some if you get it. Touring the country with a crazy-ass, mega-famous rock band would totally be your kind of thing.”
I laughed. “That’s a big if, you know. And, it’s hard to travel the world with no money and not much of an education.”
“Whatever! There's no need to be so pessimistic about this. Remember, where there is a will, there is a way,” Grace said. “Come on, I should be proof of that. You remember how many things I auditioned for before I finally caught a break? I mean, there were weeks, months even, when it seemed I'd have to pack my bags and leave this town with my tail between my legs and try go back to the real world to find some kinda office job or something.
“But I persisted, and I never gave up. And sure enough, I caught my break in the end. And, I'm sure that you’ll catch your break, too; you just have to keep pushing at it.”
“I know, I know. It just feels like I’m pushing a lot, and the world is just pushing me right back. Only a lot harder,” I said.
“Nalia, you’re talented, beautiful, and smart. I have no doubt that eventually, things will fall into place for you if you keep going.”
“Well, maybe if I don’t find a job by the end of the week, I’ll start looking for a new adventure, maybe another way to get my music out there. I mean, I have to, right? I can't keep going on like this. Something's gotta change, and I have to instigate that change.”
“That’s the spirit,” she smiled at me, wiping sweat from her forehead. “We should go out tonight to celebrate whatever new adventure of yours lies ahead.”
“You j
ust want to go out again and find a handsome boy to toy with, don’t you?” I teased.
“Maybe. But hey, dancing is a good exercise, too!” she shot back, jogging faster. I followed, trying to catch up to her.
Chapter Seven
Owen
I groaned as I opened yet another file, this one a contract that needed review. I loved owning my own record company, but hated dealing with all the paperwork and the admin work that came with it. I’d already looked through so many documents in the past six hours that I felt like I would go cross-eyed.
My favorite part of owning the company was helping produce the actual music, forgetting about the paperwork, just turning out good albums and helping other artists succeed at their dreams. That was what made the blood pump faster through my veins—not reviewing damn contracts.
I wasn’t sure why I’d avoided getting Bleeding Heart back together as long as I had, but I was thanking God we were about to go back on tour. And I couldn't deny that I was wishing I’d have already given more of the paperwork load to my second in command at the record label, instead of waiting until a week before we hit the road. This shit really wasn't what I wanted to be focusing my energy on.
I closed the document, needing to give both my eyes and my brain a break. I strolled around my office, looking at my shelves, decorated with various items of Bleeding Heart memorabilia. There were tons of pictures from the road, awards, tour posters, and even a couple of framed records hanging on a wall.
Why the hell we ever stopped, I wasn’t sure. I knew part of it was because I was focused on starting the record company, but maybe I should have kept the band up, too. I wondered where we would be now if I’d done so. Still, it wasn't good to dwell on things that would have been or could have been. After all, the past was the past, and it's not as if we can go back and change things.
A buzz came from the intercom on my desk, followed by my secretary’s voice. “Mr. Young? You available?”
“Yes, Aubrey. What’s up?”
“You're due at North Star Agency in an hour. Just giving you a reminder. Also, you never put in an order for lunch. Did you want me to run out and grab you something?”
Just then my stomach grumbled, as if on cue. “No, you know what? I need to get out of the office, anyway. I’ll just head out now and grab something on the way,” I told her. “Thanks, though.”
“Sounds good, boss. Good luck finding someone at the agency!” she said in her chipper voice. I smiled and thanked her again, grabbing my wallet off my desk. North Star wasn’t too far, so I figured I’d walk. Getting a bit of light exercise would be good for clearing my head, and there was a good sandwich shop on the way I could stop at.
Less than twenty minutes later, I was at the sandwich shop. I went inside and headed straight for the counter to order a hoagie. Just as I handed the cashier a twenty, someone let out a squeal behind me. I spun around to see a group of twenty-somethings staring at me, wide-eyed.
“Oh em gee! It’s really you!” One charged toward me, phone already up for a picture. “Can I please get a picture with you? I can’t believe you guys are finally getting back together!” She let out another squeal. I winced, but smiled and nodded, putting an arm out to let her come over to me.
Apparently, Aubrey had gotten our press release out last week. For the past few years, I had been able to come into this sandwich shop with no problem, but putting Bleeding Heart back out in the public light had probably brought had a hand in bringing on situations like this.
The girl came up beside me, hugging me as one of her giggling friends took her phone. I politely hugged the girl back and posed with her as the other girl took the picture. They switched places, and her friend hugged me just as tightly. At one moment, I was pretty sure she sniffed my t-shirt, and it was all I could do not to laugh, although over the years I'd gotten used to this kind of attention from fans and all the weirdness that sometimes came with it. And believe me, there was a lot of weirdness at times. I posed for another photo with her before a few more girls crowded around wanting their pics taken with me.
This went on for a good twenty minutes, and a couple even lingered to watch me eat my sandwich with enthralled attention from a nearby table, giggling the whole time. Instead of annoying me, it made me smile and reminded me just how fun that aspect of touring had been. Meeting the fans had always been great, even if it did get a bit exhausting and overwhelming at times.
I was amazed we still had the number of fans we had, but we had done pretty well for ourselves back in the day. I guess it really shouldn’t have been too much of a shock that some were still following us. A number of our shows for the tour were already sold out, after all.
It was nice having fans. That façade, that false sense of being desired, sometimes helped dull the sting of loneliness that came with the territory. Hell, I’d take what I could get.
While I had everything else, I did feel quite alone some of the time. Even if I didn’t have a problem getting laid, it wasn’t the same as having someone there that you cared about on a consistent basis. A real relationship. I’d never been able to find that. Maybe between the band and the record company, I’d just kept myself too busy to find anyone. Maybe I was a little picky or lacked the trust that they liked me for me instead of because I was Owen Young, rock star extraordinaire.
I waved to the girls as I left, causing another outbreak of giggles. I smiled and winked at them as I walked out the door and headed for the agency, still feeling that pleasant buzz of rock stardom tingling across my skin.
It was just before three when I arrived, and Mike was there waiting for me.
“Long time no see, Mr. Rock Star! How you doing, Owen?” He patted me on the back and smiled at me with a toothy grin.
“Good, good. You know how it is, man. With this record company, and now getting the band back together for the tour, things are crazy. I feel like I'm going nuts sometimes; there's just so much to do and almost no time to do it. Anyway, though, how are things here?”
“Oh, same as you I guess. Busy, busy,” he countered with a smile. “But, I was able to make time to schedule the three applicants you requested interviews with. They are already here and waiting. You can use my office. Let me know when to send the first one in.”
“You can go ahead and send her this way,” I told him, settling into his chair. “Thanks a bunch, man. I really do appreciate the help.”
“No worries. Glad to help. It's always a pleasure working with you, Owen—you represent the best of the music business, you really do. I wish a lot more of my clients were more like you; it'd certainly make my life a lot easier. Anyway, for these candidates, each of their resumes are right on my desk for you to go over with them. I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared out of the office, and a few minutes later, a mousy-looking girl walked in. I stood to greet her, stretching my hand out toward her.
“Owen Young, and you must be Felicia,” I said.
“Yes, hi,” she giggled. Oh God, I thought. She had to be a fan. Fans were great when you were on tour, but definitely not so much when part of the operations aspect of the tour. Nonetheless, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and sat down to get on with the interview. It was only fair to give her a chance, after all.
“So, you have experience in managing music tours?” I asked her.
More giggles. “Yes, mostly with up-and-coming, unsigned, indie rock bands, kind of like how you guys started out.”
“Oh, that’s cool. We need someone well versed on locations and venues for bigger shows, though. Do you feel confident doing that?”
More giggles. Her giggles were like tiny pinpricks in my head and, to be honest, I was struggling to deal with it. Especially since she was just staring at me and not answering my questions.
“Felicia?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry, I just can’t believe I’m actually sitting here talking to you.” She blushed...and giggled once more. Why me, I thought. I hoped the rest o
f the interviews weren’t going to be like this. Otherwise, I’d be ready to toss myself off the top of the building by the time I was done.
“Could you please answer my question?” I asked, no longer hiding my annoyance. This seemed to strike her as mean because her eyes misted up a little.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’m blowing this, aren’t I?” she sniffled, which only led me to believe that she might be one of those emotional roller coasters, as well. Another red flag for a bunch of guys on tour.
“Do you not have experience booking larger scale tours?”
“No, just with smaller venues and smaller indie bands,” she finally answered. I let out a sigh. This girl was, unfortunately, not at all what I was looking for.
“Thank you, Felicia. I do appreciate your time, but I think that will be all.” I didn’t look her in the eyes, but I could already tell that she was, in fact, crying in earnest now. I sent Mike a text to summon him back over to the office. Mike came in and looked from me to Felicia, his forehead wrinkled as he made his way to the desk where I sat.
“Mike, I need someone that fits the profile I gave you. Please don’t waste my time,” I said quietly. Not quietly enough, though, because the girl got up from the chair and rushed out in a flurry of tears.
I honestly felt bad, but there wasn’t much I could do. We were a multi-platinum selling band with millions of fans all over the country, not a bunch of amateurs playing the dive bar circuit for beer money on weekends. Maybe once, but not anymore. We had to have someone who had enough experience to be professional around bands of our caliber; there was simply no getting around that, as hurtful as it may be to any of the hopefuls.
Mike looked back at me suspiciously, then nodded. “I promise the next two are much more qualified. I’ll be back with the next girl in a few minutes,” he said, then left me there alone to wait.
Chapter Eight
Nalia
The first girl that had gone in for her interview came out crying, and I bit my lip, suddenly a little more nervous than I had been. I felt a wave of uncomfortable heat wash over me, and for a few moments, a powerful feeling of nausea bubbled in my stomach. Was this guy a nightmare to deal with or something?
