Easy Glamour

by Maggie Marr

  He looked as though I’d picked up one of the pine branches on the ground and whacked him across the jaw.

  “Morning Show? Jimmy Kimmel?”

  I nodded. “And so it begins. A couple pictures, a few tweets, and suddenly you’re the next big rock star. Get ready for this ride, because believe me when I tell you, it’s nothing like you’ve ever imagined.”

  Chapter 14

  Rhett

  Life seemed good. I roared my bike down Sunset toward my apartment and away from Tasha’s Malibu pad. After Montecito, I spent the next month at Tasha’s. The days were spent in PR training at Left Coast’s Santa Monica offices. I felt a little like a monkey on a leash learning how to dance to the organ grinder’s tune. There were so many fucking questions about my music, my process, and my family. The questions about my family were the toughest for me to answer, and while Left Coast’s PR department had a bunch of canned answers for me to use, what I really wanted to do when their pretend interviewer, the guy who was prepping us for the real thing, asked me about Dad, was shove my fist in that guy’s face.

  But if it sold albums, right? The band had been there, too. Next week was big. Huge. The album was releasing and we were making the celebrity circuit. Already I had invitations to swank events for the next six months.

  In between dealing with Left Coast’s PR team, I soaked in the sun and played the Fender guitars Tasha’s dad had collected, drinking wine and whiskey and eating kickass food. Tasha came and went. We fucked. The existence, with Tasha, was pretty damned swank. My album was finished and ready to release. Our tour was booked for the summer.

  With everything purring along, some sort of bullshit had to blow up soon. There were two fucking snags that dogged my mind. My name and monogamy. Neither one fit me. Rhett Legend? How the hell had I agreed to that little slice of living hell? I shook my head. What wouldn’t I do for a piece of good pussy and record sales? It seemed I wasn’t above selling out my most deeply held moral convictions, because I’d caved like a Honduran road after a mudslide.

  Mom would be disappointed about my decision to use Dad’s name. I’d dodged her calls for weeks now. A shitstorm of publicity and questions were on the horizon—all the things that Mom had tried to avoid our entire lives. My sisters? Sophia would eat the attention up with a spoon. Ellen? She wouldn’t care either way. She’d understand the logic of using Dad’s name to launch my career and would be happy, if I was happy. Amanda would be over the fucking moon that she could publicly claim me as her brother. And Sterling? Well I could already see that smug half-smile that I’d want to wipe from his face with the heel of my boot. The smug smile that would scream sell-out.

  Nice.

  I still hadn’t dealt with the blowback from the wedding. I hadn’t spoken to Sterling—I hadn’t even seen him. All the girls—Amanda, Sophia, and Ellen—had been after me to make nice with big brother Sterling, but he hadn’t shown up at my place to apologize so why should I go out of my way to make peace? Granted, it’d been my fist landing on his jaw, the night of the wedding, that had started the feud. He’d had it coming. Ever since the first night he arrived at my show unannounced at the Roadhouse in Oxnard. If my family thought I had a chip on my shoulder, they should take a look at the boulder Sterling carried.

  I pulled to a stop at a red light. Next to me a blonde with double Ds rocked a convertible Bentley. Her pink top dipped low to reveal her cleavage. She turned her head and her eyes roamed over me. Four weeks ago, I would have smiled, maybe even had her pull over. We’d have a glass of wine, talk for an hour, and then I’d slide right into her. Take what I wanted. Instead I smiled, nodded, and pulled away when the light turned green.

  Monogamy. Was I built for it? Fuck. Was any man? I only wanted Tasha now, but what about in six months? I revved the engine and sped past a middle-aged mom cruising in a red Prius. The tot in the back waved and I waved back. Tasha wanted a family. A fucking white-picket fence with kids and a dog. How had she ever been Johnny Tucker’s girl? He was about as far from middle-class, suburban domesticity as …well …I was. Damn. I couldn’t get the niggling feeling out of my brain that somehow I couldn’t ever be the opposite of what Johnny Tucker had been to Tasha, or be the type of man that she believed she needed.

  Johnny had broken a piece of her. The shadow of the pain he’d caused was still in her eyes whenever she talked about dating a musician. Whatever had gone down between them had been deep enough to change her. To cause Tasha to create rules and boundaries. I wanted to work around all that, didn’t I?

  How the fuck could I let that go? Those green eyes, and that amber-colored hair? Those lush curves and the full hot mouth. The words that came out of that full hot mouth. Shit. I didn’t do relationships. One night was easy. Fuck, two weeks on a beach in Malibu was easy. But out in the world? With the women, the whiskey, and the wine? I pulled my bike to a stop in front of my place and slid off the seat. I walked up the steps and rounded the corner.

  And there, standing right beside my front door, was the thing that was going to turn my day to shit.

  Tasha

  “These tapes look good, right? They’re ready.” I was fast-forwarding through a mock taped interview that our PR department had done with Rhett and all the members of the band. They smiled, they laughed, they told funny stories when the interviewer asked them questions. All went well until the questions started about being a member of the Legend family.

  “Here,” Natalie said. She paused the video of the interview. “See what happens to his eyes and his body language when the question about his dad comes up?”

  I examined the frozen image of Rhett on the flat screen in my office. I knew that twitch in his jaw, the hard look in his eyes, and that stiff body posture.

  “He looked about ready to jump from the chair and kick the interviewer’s ass,” Natalie said.

  I took a long breath. Edgy, viewers could like. Even weird and quirky was acceptable. But rude and arrogant were the two things that killed a growing fan base faster than anything.

  “The questions were a little bit skewed,” I said.

  Natalie tilted her head and looked at me. “The question was did Rhett spend any time with his Dad growing up? That’s a standard question they’d ask any musician with a famous father.”

  “Right,” I said, “but it’s so loaded for him.”

  “Doesn’t matter if it’s loaded. He’s got to know how to handle it without alienating anybody. His answer was okay, but his demeanor sucked.”

  Natalie pressed play and Rhett’s thick whiskey voice flowed over me and made my skin prickle. There was an edge to his tone. Almost as though he was telling them back the fuck off my family, or I’m going to bust your face.

  “Did he get violent or act rude?” I asked. The expectation on Kimmel, which the band was doing soon, or any other talk show was that you would be at least as polite as you would if invited to that person’s home.

  “No,” Natalie said. “He didn’t have to. It’s written all over his face how completely pissed off he is. Not only would he not be invited back with body language like that, but he’ll alienate all kinds of potential fans.”

  “When are they booked for the show?”

  “Late next week,” Natalie said.

  “Okay, get all of them back in here. Go over the tape with them, and make pointers for everyone, not just Rhett.”

  Natalie stood. “You must think he’s really talented because you’re definitely handling this one with a soft touch.”

  What was she implying? I’d kept my relationship with Rhett pretty damn quiet at Left Coast. That wouldn’t be possible for much longer. Rhett wasn’t about to hide our relationship for me. That wouldn’t be his style.

  “The success of the album means a lot to me,” I said. “It’s the first release since I took over.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll have them in tomorrow. He’s got a Thursday night slot for Kimmel. It’s one of the best.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I glanced tow
ard the door where David now stood. Natalie walked out and David walked into my office. He’d returned from South America last week. Some of the anxiety I felt in his absence had dissipated. I’d had my conference call with the PI. David and I both agreed we needed a different investigator on the case. He closed the door behind him.

  “I have news,” he said. He sat in the chair opposite my desk. “We’ve tracked your uncle to New Zealand.”

  “And the money?” I really didn’t care if I ever saw my Uncle Lewis again; all I wanted was the money that he’d stolen from Left Coast.

  “That’s a bit tricky. I’ve gotten the authorities involved, quietly, but this will take time. Maybe more time than Left Coast has.”

  “We can’t stop now,” I said. “Have you seen the numbers? Rhett’s album is tracking huge. If we can just get it out and if the numbers continue to hold we should be—”

  “That will take months, Tasha. You know receipts don’t flow that fast.” He steepled his fingers in front of his chest. “I have a buyer.”

  “You have a what?” Shock slammed into my chest. “I’m not interested in selling Left Coast.”

  “This buyer would come in, but you would still run the company. They want majority ownership.”

  “Majority ownership? I’d be working for someone I didn’t know?”

  “You’d still own part of Left Coast and this would solve our cash flow problems for the immediate future.”

  My heart thudded in my chest. Was this the only way? I’d gotten my company back from my uncle only to have to sell off half of Left Coast to keep it operating?

  “This isn’t an option,” I said. “We will get through this. I know we will. We just have to hold on a little longer.”

  “I’m not certain you have much longer left.”

  Why was he so calm? So nonchalant? The sale of Left Coast didn’t seem to bother him in the same way it bothered me.

  “Who’s the buyer?” I asked. “I’m curious to know who would want to buy our label, but keep me on to run it?”

  “The buyer,” David said. “Is me.”

  Rhett

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  I had just arrived home to find Sterling Legend on the doorstep. I opened my front door and tried not to let the shock show on my face.

  Some things never changed, and neither did partying musicians. Empty Jack bottles and crumpled beer cans littered the coffee table. Darren was passed out on the couch with Larissa lying over his chest. I heard that last week Larissa had been with Trevor and the week before with Max, but I was off the market for this little groupie. There was no sign of Max and Trevor—they must have taken the bedrooms during my absence.

  Sterling stood in the doorway. His eyes traveled around the apartment.

  “Come here to slum?” I asked. I grabbed a bottle of Stella from the refrigerator and walked back out the front door. I didn’t need my bandmates overhearing any discussion I had with Sterling.

  “It’s not even ten a.m.,” Sterling said.

  I took a long pull of my beer. “Who the fuck cares?” I pulled a cigarette from the pack in my jacket and placed it between my lips. What I wouldn’t give right now for my silver eagle Zippo.

  “Great breakfast.” Sterling crossed his arms over his chest.

  I slid my gaze toward him. “You come here to make recommendations about my nutritional habits?” I wasn’t giving him anything to work with. No smile. No facial expressions. He was the one who’d showed up at my door unannounced. Let him work for it.

  He took a long labored breath and turned to me like a man facing a firing squad. “No,” he said. “I came here to apologize for the wedding.”

  A smile cracked wide across my lips and I slugged back part of my beer. “Fucking sisters,” I said. I set the bottle on the wood rail surrounding the porch. “Amanda got to you?”

  Sterling nodded. “And Rhiannon.”

  “I’ve got Sophia and Ellen and Amanda lighting up my phone. How was her honeymoon?”

  “She said it was good.” Sterling shook his head. “She seems happy. Really happy.”

  “Good luck to that,” I said and slugged back the final bit of my beer.

  “Yeah,” Sterling said. “Good luck to that.”

  “How’s the film?”

  Sterling squinted at me, surprised that I would ask about The Lady’s Regret.

  “Brilliant, when it’s not the biggest pain in my ass.”

  “That’s how everything goes. But I just gotta say, I can’t believe you went with that bitch that Dad married.”

  “No choice,” Sterling said. “It was either Kiley Kepner or no movie.”

  “Amanda said she’d rather there was no movie.”

  “Right, we all make compromises. She agreed to Kiley and I agreed to …”

  Sterling’s words drifted off into silence. I understood suddenly. So that was the compromise. Amanda would let him have Kiley Kepner in the film in exchange for Sterling making nice with me. A pretty steep ask from Amanda, if you asked me.

  “You get Kiley for the film if you make nice with me?”

  Sterling shook his head and tightened his arms over his chest. “Not quite that simple,” he said. “But close.”

  “Didn’t realize our being a happy peaceful family was worth all that to little sis. Good to know.”

  “Rhett, man, part of me wants to like you.” Sterling looked up at me. His eyes were hooded. “I get what Amanda is after and I understand it. But then part of me”—he turned away and faced the street—“fucking hates all that went down between Anita, and Mom, and Dad, and then you with this bad-ass attitude—”

  “I’ve got a bad-ass attitude?”

  The muscle in Sterling’s jaw flinched. “Okay, we’ve both got the Legend bad-ass attitude, and it rubs me the wrong fucking way. I think we rub each other the wrong fucking way because—”

  “We’re a lot alike,” I supplied.

  Sterling’s gaze locked on mine and something in his eyes softened for the briefest moment.

  “Right,” Sterling said. “We’re completely different and yet a whole lot alike.”

  “Want a beer?” I asked.

  Sterling looked from me to the empty bottle in my hand.

  “Sure,” Sterling said. “Why the hell not?”

  “Kiley’s crazy,” I said as we walked into the apartment.

  “Worse than crazy,” Sterling said. “She’s fucking talented, and smart, and crazy. She’s known our family since we were kids—”

  “Your family,” I said.

  “Right,” Sterling said. “She was around when we were kids.”

  “You next?” I asked, changing the subject.

  He pulled an eyebrow upward and tilted his head. “With Rhiannon?” He smiled. “Yeah,” he said, not unhappy about it. “Probably.”

  “Maybe you two will beat the Legend curse.”

  “I sure as fuck hope so.”

  I pulled two beers from the fridge. Darren was now vertical but his eyes were almost closed. They popped open when he saw me. I handed Sterling the beer and he twisted the top. Darren looked at Sterling then back at me, then at Sterling.

  “Is that?”

  I slugged back my beer. “My fucking older brother?” I nodded. “It sure as shit is.”

  “Wow,” Darren said. “What the hell happened?”

  Sterling looked at me as though he, too, was interested in the answer, but I wasn’t interested in giving either one of these two guys any details on my private life.

  Ignoring Darren I asked Sterling, “You hungry?”

  Sterling nodded. “I could eat.”

  “Back later,” I called to Darren, who shuffled toward the biohazard known as the bathroom. Who knew what was growing in the corners of the shower? The guys used my place as a crash-pad semi-residence. I’d been good with it always, but after staying with Tasha, I longed for Malibu. Tasha’s showers were clean. Her place was immaculate. So clean you were almost afra
id to touch a damn thing. Just like my mom’s house. She wouldn’t even consider coming to my place in the city. Mom always wrinkled her nose at my suggestion of her visiting. Nope, this place really wasn’t optimal for women.

  “We got a gig this weekend,” Darren called.

  “Where?”

  “Some place Left Coast set up. Wrote it on the calendar.”

  “Great. I’ll be back before then,” I called.

  “We got Kimmel sometime soon.”

  “Right,” I said and guzzled down the beer. I slammed the empty on the kitchen counter. “Like I said, back before then.” I turned toward Sterling who seemed completely unfazed by my blatant display of alcohol consumption. But then he was Steve Legend’s son too, and he’d grown up in Hollywood. My little display was nothing compared to what we’d both witnessed growing up with Steve as our father.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  “You lead,” Sterling said. “I’ll follow.”

  The corner of my mouth pulled up into a grin. “If only you said that all the time.”

  Sterling laughed. I pulled open the front door and led the way.

  Chapter 15

  Tasha

  It was nearly eight p.m. when I was finally ready to leave my office. I was scheduled to go by Lola’s to see an act that Bobbie was interested in signing. She wanted a second opinion and I was willing to give it. I flipped my phone over. There was still just the one text from Rhett: With my brother. I smiled again at the message. Amanda would be thrilled. I just hoped they weren’t beating the hell out of each other.

  I stood to walk out when I saw the picture of Daddy and me and David on the credenza. David had surprised me today. He wanted majority ownership in Left Coast. After he dropped his bombshell, he’d forwarded me documents from his personal attorney. An offer for Left Coast. I’d skimmed them and then forwarded them to my attorney. I wouldn’t make this decision today, I wasn’t ready to, but I couldn’t wait very long. David was right, Left Coast needed capital. Was this the right deal? Daddy trusted David. They’d worked together for years. While it seemed like a good fit, after what happened with Uncle Lewis, I was concerned about handing controlling interest of Left Coast to anyone, including David.