by Maggie Marr
Rhett
There was only one thing as good as playing live on national TV and I’d lost that one thing for forever. This was all I had left. This high. My music and my audience. I belted out my tune and I lost everything around me. I caught the wave of sound that transported me to another place. A place where only music remained. Everything around me was gone. There was nothing but vibrations trembling through my body and up my body and out my mouth. This. This moment would be my salvation. I would live through the pain that tore through me every fucking day for being such a stupid asshole and losing Tasha, and I would live through it because of this gift, that for some fucking reason, I had no idea why, that God had given me. This gift was my voice. My music. My connection to the world and everyone else.
Then it was over. I heard clapping, loud yelling, and even screams. With a thud I jolted back from whatever fucking plane I inhabited when I lost myself in the music. I was back and I looked at the guys. They were grinning like stupid fools. I was grinning like a stupid fool. The audience was going berserk and Kimmel was out of his seat and on his way over. He fucking shook my hand, he shook all our hands. Then told me that was the best fucking performance he’d seen in a long time.
Fuck. This was real. My world was going to change. It had changed. I turned to walk off the stage, and for a millisecond I thought, I hoped, that I saw a flash of familiar amber-colored hair behind the curtain, but just as quickly, it was gone.
*
“Dude, the money is going to rain down on you. And the pussy? Oh, you cannot even begin to fathom the pussy you are about to score.” Dillon and Ryan’s agent, Webber Connor, had been glued to my side since the moment I’d walked into Sterling’s front door. “So listen, you’re leaving for your tour with Johnny Tucker in two weeks, but how would you like to be in film? With your looks and your pipes, plus you must have the acting chops, I mean come on, you’re a fucking Legend, I can get you an easy seven figures on your first film.”
“Acting?” I tilted my beer and slugged back a drink. “I’ve never even thought of acting.”
“Here’s my card. I’m your guy. Got it. From this point forward consider me your acting-job guru. We are going to make big money, my friend. Not only will you swim in a sea of gorgeous ta-tas as a rock god, but you will be the next acting Legend.”
My spine stiffened. The comparisons were inevitable whether I sang or acted. Steve Legend was my dad. Of course people would compare us. I glanced across the room to where Amanda stood chatting with … was that fucking Dr. Dre?
My big brother Sterling and little sister Amanda had to be used to the comparisons between Dad and them by now. I hadn’t grown up with that shit. No one but our closest family had even known we were Legend kids. But now? Wow, was everyone in this room making assessments about me based on Dad?
“Getting you another beer,” Webber said and skirted around the partygoers toward the bar.
“Get used to it, brother,” Sterling said. He plopped his arm on my shoulder. “The shadow of Dad is long and sometimes very chilly.”
“Fuck, it just hit me that everyone in this room sees me and thinks of Dad, too. We’re automatically connected.”
“Forever and ever. You begin to ignore it.”
“How long did it take you?”
“I’ll let you know. Why do you think he fired my ass?”
Wow, maybe growing up in the glare of the Legend spotlight wasn’t as posh as I’d thought. My childhood hadn’t been fodder for tabloids and TV news shows. Perhaps being Dad’s secret family had at least given us a little room to breathe.
“Thanks for this,” I said. I turned toward Sterling. “Your place is amazing and, well, it’s nice of you to have this party.”
“Consider it my apology for being a dick.”
“I thought our night out was your apology.”
“Yeah, heard you got into some trouble that night, too.” Sterling pressed his lips together. “You in love?”
“Fuck, yeah,” I said. “But she hates my ass now.” I shook my head. “Another casualty of the heart because of the Legend curse.”
“Curse, who the fuck thinks this family is cursed?” The big booming voice came from behind me. The whole room stopped. The conversation, the clinking of glasses, the movement. Dad and I were the main attraction at the party. His arms wrapped around me and he was slapping my back in a giant hug. I looked at Sterling like “what the fuck do I do?” He shrugged and finished his beer. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and mouthed “go with it.”
Go with it? I wanted to pull back and slug my father in the jaw.
Now I was his favored son? After I’d just fucking nailed my performance on Kimmel? Now that my album was tracking number one in the world? Now he’d claim me in front of a room filled with music and Hollywood vets? What the hell? It was as though Amanda could read my mind from across the room, because suddenly she was there. Amanda. By my side. Her gaze locked with mine. She seemed to be telling me, it’s not worth it. The things you think you want to say right this moment won’t be worth it. Just take what he says and let all the other bullshit go.
“Daddy,” she said and maneuvered him to hug her. “We had no idea you were coming! Didn’t Rhett do an amazing job?”
“Amazing? He was a fucking GOD! I’ve never seen a performance like that, and I’ve seen performances. I know Mick, Keith, Gaga, and Paul. For fuck’s sake, I’ve partied with all of them. And you”—he tapped me in the chest with his pointer finger—“were better than every single one of them tonight.”
His smile was big and infectious. Dad was saying all the things that as a kid I had longed to hear. That I was awesome. That I had his full attention. That he was impressed.
Somehow his words weren’t enough. While the moment felt good, his attention didn’t heal all my wounds. Him saying that I did a great job and he was proud didn’t cause me to suddenly feel closer to him, or make our relationship stronger. What his words really did was spotlight just how little I actually needed validation from Dad now. What I needed was my own happiness, my own joy, for myself, and what I wanted was Tasha.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“No worries, son. Proud to be your dad tonight. Damned proud.” His gaze left mine and he scanned the room. I was no longer the focus for Steve Legend. He’d made his grand entrance, confirmed that he had in fact sired the big up-and-coming music star, and now Dad was on to the next thing. Which, when I followed his gaze, I spotted in a tight red dress. A model who, per Sophia, had been on the cover of Vogue last month. I knew what Dad’s next big thing would be … at least for tonight.
“Excuse me, son, I see a friend I need to speak to.” Then the Legend was gone.
“Got to hand it to your dad,” Webber said and held out a beer. “His focus never waivers.”
“Yeah, when it comes to fame and women, he really knows what he’s after.”
Chapter 18
Tasha
“Tasha, you’re gonna have to come to Philly.” The tour manager was on the phone, yelling into my ear.
Philly? Rhett was in Philly. Going to Philly meant I’d probably see Rhett. Him going on tour had been an easy fix to a difficult problem. I simply ignored my feelings. I buried my pain with work. I was too busy to deal with emotion. I had a company to run. A company to save. I couldn’t possibly be so self-indulgent as to lie in my bed with tissues shredded all around me, weeping into a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. But after six weeks on the road, Johnny had finally pulled one of his usual tour stunts.
He’d drunk himself into a stupor and then trashed his hotel room. Those two things didn’t cause any problems. Those were things anyone at Left Coast could handle, but when Johnny climbed the flagpole in front of the hotel butt naked and the cops were called, and then they found a stash of cocaine and two underage girls in his hotel room? Well, those were a couple of things that only I could try to get fixed.
“I’m in the middle of Aileen’s new album. Can’t we just fly
in one of the attorneys and they can fix this mess?”
“He wants you. Says he’s not doing any more gigs until you come and talk to him.”
“Fuck,” I muttered. The sales of Johnny’s last album hadn’t been good, while Rhett was still busting the charts. If life or the music industry were predictable, right now, based on these album sales, Johnny Tucker would be opening for Rhett by the end of the year.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll be there this evening.”
I stood from behind my desk and grabbed my phone and my bag. I would go straight to the plane. I kept a bag on board in case I had to travel. I didn’t intend to spend the night but was prepared just in case I needed to. What I intended to do was go, talk Johnny off the ledge, grease some palms, and get them to their next gig.
“Tasha, you have a minute?” David stood just inside my office door.
“Actually, I don’t. I have to go deal with the mess that is Johnny Tucker.” David nodded. We’d both been filled in about Johnny right after that morning’s meeting. “We can walk and talk? You have time?”
“I do,” David said. I slipped by him and told my assistant to call the pilots and let them know I was on my way, and to cancel my afternoon meetings. “I’ll call Aileen myself,” I told her. David and I got onto the elevator.
I hadn’t given him an answer about his takeover offer. I hadn’t needed to because Rhett’s album had hit, and the sales had exploded. This record was bigger than anything since Thriller. David turned to me.
“The U.S. is extraditing your uncle.”
My heart flipped over in my chest. “They found him and they’re bringing him back? What about the money?”
“Some of it was where we suspected. Part in the Caymans, and part in Switzerland. The authorities are still accessing it, but it seems we may get as much as sixty cents back on the dollar.”
“Sixty percent is better than nothing, and much better than what I thought we’d ever see.” The elevator stopped and we both stepped out into the parking garage. “Thank you, David. You kept after this. You never let it go.”
“Now that we’ve found Lewis, I’m leaving Left Coast.”
My stomach dropped as though the elevator was a roller coaster. “What? Why? Please tell me it’s not because I didn’t accept your offer.”
David shook his head no, but his eyes told me that yes, it was part of the reason. “I built this company with your dad,” David said. “And I’ve always thought it was part of me. I gave everything that I had to Left Coast. Now, I want something for me.”
“David, please, couldn’t you agree to take a part of Left Coast? You don’t have to be majority shareholder, maybe—”
“No,” David said. “This decision isn’t about owning Left Coast. This decision is about doing something on my own. For me. I’ve dedicated everything that I have to this company and I’ve enjoyed most my time here. I wouldn’t go back and change any of it. Well, except the years with your uncle. I think I would have gone ahead and kicked his ass to the curb.”
I smiled. David was my father’s friend, colleague, and business confidant. A trusted advisor who spent his life building the company I loved.
“I want a new chapter, Tasha. One that includes my family and the people I love. I need to spend time with my wife and kids, to be with them, to enjoy them. They’re all so damned sick of seeing me leave every day and get home late every night. I’ve got to cut back.”
“You’re retiring?”
“Nope,” he said. “I’m going back in the studio with a couple of artists I love. I’m going to produce.” David smiled. “I may even come knocking on your door for a distribution deal in a couple months.”
“My door is always open to you,” I said. “You know that, right?”
“I do,” David said. He pulled me in for a hug. “I’m sorry for the awkwardness between us these last few months. I thought I needed to own Left Coast, but I don’t. I’m content with the decisions I’ve made.”
I nodded. I would miss David. He’d been my rock through so many unsettling things in my life. It’d been David who’d finally sounded the alarm about Uncle Lewis, and got me asking questions, and back in the boardroom.
“I can’t wait to hear what you and your new artists come up with. I know with your ear, it will be pretty amazing stuff.”
“I’m excited to get back in the studio. If you ever need me, for anything, you know how to find me, but Tasha, don’t doubt for a minute that you’re ready for this, because you are ready. Your dad trained you and I got to work with you. He’d be so proud of you.”
My eyes heated. I was losing David, one of the closest work connections I had to my dad. “Thank you, David,” I said. He wrapped me into a hug. “I’ll miss you. Every damn day, I’m going to miss knowing that right next door is a man I can trust and turn to with any question I might have.”
“Well, instead of next door I’ll be a cell phone call away. Deal?”
“Deal,” I said and wiped a tear from beneath my eye. This was definitely a deal I could live with.
*
The town car dropped me at The Four Seasons in Philadelphia. I checked in and had my bag sent to my room. I took the elevator to the penthouse and used a keycard to enter Johnny’s suite. Left Coast was paying for his room and he was behaving like a petulant child. I could damn well walk in and out of his suite whenever I wanted.
Next time I’d knock.
Johnny lay in the middle of his California King–sized bed with three women and one man crawling over his body. I wasn’t certain which legs were attached to which torso and I tilted my head to the side in an attempt to discern this human jigsaw puzzle.
“Tash, baby! Want to jump in?”
“As tempting as that sounds,” I said. “I’m going to my room for a shower. I heard you needed to see me. Want to come by once you’re finished here?”
“You got it, Babe. Maybe a half hour?”
A Latina with pouty lips and thick black hair whispered into Johnny’s ear. “Make that an hour.” He ducked his head under the blankets and I heard a chorus of giggles.
I left Johnny and his sexual entourage behind and headed for my room two floors down. Once there I ordered room service and then took a long hot shower. The water washed away my frustration. I hadn’t planned on staying in Philly overnight, but as each minute ticked by I was thankful for my extra clothes and the fact that I’d had my assistant clear my schedule for the morning, too. When I emerged from the bathroom in a Four Seasons’ robe I saw that the food had already arrived.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I scrubbed my towel over my hair, went to the door, and opened it. Johnny stood in the hall barefoot and also wearing only a Four Seasons’ robe. He brushed by me and headed straight to the food. He grabbed a fry and my bottle of wine. He yanked the cork out with his teeth and swigged directly from the bottle. “Good stuff.” He pulled the bottle back and examined the label. “No wonder.” He set the bottle on the table and stuffed three more fries into his mouth.
“So, here’s the thing. I want Rhett off my tour.”
I sat in the chair beside the desk in my room. “Why?” I didn’t want to say it, but Rhett was the only thing saving Johnny’s tour. Without them, Johnny’s tour would not have sold out and may not have even sold enough tickets to continue.
“The little fucker is ruining my game.”
Of course. I crossed my arms over my chest. Johnny had been right that night at 4Play. The rocker life. Rhett was on the road on his first major tour, and I guessed Johnny would complain about Rhett’s bad-boy behavior. Rhett’s star was so hot right now, the only hope Johnny had for women were Rhett’s leftovers, and Johnny didn’t enjoy leftovers. He picked up my salad and started shoveling spinach leaves into his mouth.
“Look, you said bad behavior is in the rocker DNA. This is his first tour so, of course, there are going to be a lot of women and a lot of groupies—”
“No!” Johnny said with a spinach leaf
hanging from his mouth. “That is absolutely not the problem. That is the opposite of the problem.”
My arms dropped from my chest. “What do you mean opposite?”
“The little fucker won’t sleep with anyone. No. One. He does his set, he watches mine, he comes on for the encore and then he goes back to the bus or the hotel or wherever the fuck we’re sleeping that night. He won’t party. He won’t screw. Believe me, I’ve thrown some lovely little Bettys his way. I mean, for fuck’s sake, the whole underage girl thing? That was for him, not me, the fucker. Tash, you’ve known me forever, do you think I’d sleep with a sixteen-year-old girl? At my age? Even I have a bit of pride. Or my ego does. I got those baby-Bettys for Rhett. I thought, what the hell? We’ll try it. Maybe that’ll end his dry streak. But it didn’t. The fucker took one look at those two girls in my room and turned and walked away. Walked away! Who the fuck does that when they go on tour? Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well I do, Rhett-fucking-I-am-celibate-Legend does. That’s who the fuck does. And I want him off my tour.” Johnny shot to his feet. “Is it hot in here?” He grabbed his robe and yanked it off his body.
“Okay,” I said. I’d seen every part of Johnny’s body, but I didn’t want to see it again now. “Johnny, put on your robe.”
“Why? You’ve seen it all. It hasn’t changed all that much, aside from the gravity. I do think my balls have gotten bigger.” He leaned forward as though trying to see his own balls. “Do you think they’ve gotten bigger?” He glanced up at me and his face was all seriousness.
“That sounds like a question for a urologist, not the president of your label.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I jumped to my feet. I hadn’t called for anything. Maybe it was the turn-down service. I pulled open the door and there stood Rhett. My heart hit the back of my ribs and a tingle flew from my toes to the tip of my head. I hadn’t seen him or been this close to him in nearly two months, since his gig on Kimmel. My body pulsed, reacted as though I’d just seen him a day ago. I fought the urge to reach out my arms to him and let him fold me into his.
