Rocked

by Maya Hughes

  “What?” Mouth full of bacon, she glared at him and took another piece.

  “Nothing, I’ll just be sure to remember not to come between you and your bacon or I might pull back a nub.”

  “Listen here, buddy,” she said, gesturing to him with a piece of bacon. “I’m in need of the salt to balance out my system after puking last night. And the fact that I’ve actually puked on you means I’ve pretty much done the most embarrassing thing I could have done in front of you. If I can replace those memories of that with memories of me wolfing down bacon and pancakes, then I’m all for it.”

  “Fair enough. Like I said before, I have a meeting to go to, but you’re more than welcome to hang out here until your clothes are cleaned. I don’t know how long the meeting’s going to be.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t hang around and overstay my welcome.”

  “No!” he said sharply, making her jump. The plates rattled on the table. “I mean, no. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m more than happy to hang out with you when I get back. I just didn’t want you to be waiting around for me, if you had things to do. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to wait around for me, if your clothes get back early.” That was so considerate. Why was he being so nice and cute? If he didn’t stop it soon, she was going to get the wrong idea.

  “Why don’t we play it by ear?” She could play it cool. Keep things light.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  They ate the rest of breakfast in companionable silence with Eric’s drumming on the table breaking through every so often. After a bit, he got up from the table and grabbed a couple of sheets of sheet music and started scribbling. Peering over, he scribbled down notes frantically, line after line.

  “Inspired?” He jolted, as if he’d forgotten she was even there. Talk about a blow to the ego.

  “Yes, it just hit me and I have to write it down or I’ll lose it. This hook came into my mind when you said play it by ear and I couldn’t keep it in my head anymore.” He checked his phone and grabbed his sneakers, sliding his feet in and tugging on the back.

  “Is that how you end up writing a lot of your songs?” Watching him work made her giddy. To see the process behind something she could never imagine doing, had her staring over at him like a lovesick teen. His hair had flopped over his eyes as he bent to put his shoes on. She had to use every bit of self-restraint not to brush it back from his forehead. He unbalanced her in a way she didn’t like. Not even Paolo, her ex, had made her feel like this and she’d only just met Eric for the first time in person. She hated the idea that this was celebrity worship. Yes, he was a rising star, but she wouldn’t have cared if he played his music in his garage. If she’d heard it anywhere it would have the same impact on her that it did now.

  “Sometimes they smack me in the face and I can’t get away, other times I coax them out slowly and gently, and then there are those songs you have to fight for. Kicking and screaming you have to get them where you want them.”

  “I’m always interested to hear how people go about things I can’t even imagine.”

  “Well, what about you? With your art? Your photography?”

  “It’s nothing like what you do,” she said dismissively, glancing out the window. She couldn’t even keep a job as a community course instructor, she didn’t consider herself an artist. Failed maybe, but to be failed, didn’t you have to try at least once. Maybe it was time to get back on the horse, to give it a try again. But that burning ache of rejection wasn’t one she wanted to experience again anytime soon. Was it better to be a wannabee or a failure? She still hadn’t decided yet.

  The city sprawled out in front of her outside of the windows that spanned the length of the entire room and over the huge balcony. She sat on the couch and stared out at buildings. Her art wasn’t wowing anyone. It barely inspired her anymore, let alone anyone else. She envied how freely it seemed to flow for Eric.

  “Why don’t you think it’s the same?” he said, standing from his chair to crouch in front of her.

  “My art doesn’t get seen by hundreds of people let alone thousands, hell hundreds of thousands like your music. The best I might do would be to put something up in a gallery or in a coffee shop, but it’s not ever something that’s out there for lots of people.”

  “Why not?” he said, placing his hand on her knee. His thumb rubbed against her skin and her heart fluttered and her skin tingled at the contact. His touch lit something up inside of her and she itched to get her camera and snap a pic of him. The things she saw when he looked at her made her lightheaded.

  “How do you propose I go about getting thousands of people out there to see my work?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure there’s a way,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Once you figure it out, you let me know.”

  “How are you feeling?” He moved his hand from her knee and ran it over her forehead and down to her cheek. The hairs on the back of her neck raised and her breathing sped up as she tried to keep her composure.

  “Much better after the shower and the bacon,” she said, nodding to her completely cleaned plate.

  “Glad to hear it.” He glanced down at his phone on the table. “Right, I’ve got to go. I’ll be back whenever. We’ll hang out later?” he said, giving her an unsure smile. She couldn’t contain her smile. She was going to hang out with Eric Newcastle. It took everything in her not to do a happy dance in the middle of the room and scare him off completely.

  “Sure, I’ll be here,” she said in her best nonchalant voice.

  “Great,” a smile lit up his face and his eyes twinkled. She squeezed her thighs together under the table as he grabbed his key card from the table by the door, gave her a wave and disappeared out the door.

  What had she gotten herself into?!

  8

  Walking in the boardroom filled with a couple of producers and management types, the uneasiness settled in the pit of his stomach like always whenever he met with the industry types. Musicians, producers, roadies, he hung with all of them, but the business guys trying to dress like they were one of the ‘hip’ guys made him wary. His manager, Smithy, had a seat open next to him and he pulled it out for Eric as he walked in. They hadn’t had much time to talk before the meeting, not that Smith was much of a talker. He got shit done, had taken him on when there weren’t many people out there looking for a quirky guy with a guitar who didn’t quite fit into any one genre. Was he rock, pop, folk? Hell, he didn’t even know, so how could he expect other people to pin him down?

  “Eric, have a seat. We’re glad you made it. We know early morning meetings aren’t something you guys prefer,” said the navy hoodie with a broad smile.

  He gave them a shrug and sat in one of the chairs around the table.

  “We wanted to let you know that your newest single is doing really well. Extremely well, beating all our expectations. Congratulations!”

  “Uh, thanks,” he said, leg tapping away under the table. A faint thumping sound drifted out from under the table. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, ebbed away. So, this wasn’t going to be one of those, we’re going in a different direction meetings. Knowing that this wasn’t going to be a shitfest helped him loosen the grip he’d had on the arms of the chair under the table.

  “But there is an issue that’s been brought to our attention,” navy hoodie said, sliding some pictures across the table. The sinking feeling was back. Smith craned his head to get a look and shot a glance over at him. It was from last night. Him carrying Keira through the hotel lobby.

  “We had these sent over to us as a matter of courtesy by one of the tabloids.”

  “She’s a friend of a friend. Completely innocent, she was puking and not feeling well and I took her to my room and put her to bed, that’s it,” Eric said, pointing to the pictures.

  The hoodies all crossed their arms almost in unison. “It doesn’t look good Eric. You’re supposed to be the good guy. The balance to the craziness o
f Uncharted. With the hiccup with Talia it was the perfect opportunity for us to capitalize on good will from female fans, but this doesn’t look good.”

  “It’s completely innocent, I swear. She’s back in my room right now and can clear everything up.” A bead of sweat dripped down his back.

  “It’s not about what it was, but about how it looks and it looks like you took advantage of a passed out woman,” maroon hoodie said. It was like they were all some kind of hive mind, all speaking as one, with one sentence flowing from each of them and making complete thoughts.

  “How do we fix it?” Eric said, running his hands through his hair. Had he just screwed everything up by not dropping her off? He couldn’t have done that though. Leaving her passed out somewhere to get sick on her own or need help and have no one there. It turned his stomach to think of something happening to her.

  “We’ll fix it, but we’ll need your cooperation,” said the navy hoodie.

  “Okay, anything you need.” He’d be on his best behavior to not screw things up for him and his family. He needed this to set his mom and brother up for the life they deserved.

  “That’s good to hear and we would expect nothing less,” the green hoodie said, eyeing him. “You’re getting your own tour, Eric.” He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until that moment. His sharp exhale, cut through the silence of the room like a knife. His own tour.

  “What?” Weren’t they talking about him screwing things up? He was getting his own tour?

  “Yes, you heard correctly. You’re getting your own ten city US and Canadian tour, followed by a twenty city European tour in the fall.” His heart thundered in his chest like a stampede. A light tingly feeling ran through his fingers and travelled up his arms.

  “Starting when?” he said, leaning forward in his seat, ready to jump up and down on the table.

  “We’re working on getting you a tour manager to help with the day to day, since Smith would like to stay in LA. We are setting up the dates, but it will start in about two weeks. It’s kind of like a flash tour, we think your fans will go crazy for it.” Holy shit! This was really happening. A US and European tour! He hadn’t even been to Europe. He’d need to get a passport.

  You’ll have five more stops with Uncharted and then the break, then your tour begins. Short notice, I know, but we want to strike while the iron is hot, especially with your album release in less than a month. We’ll release two new singles in the meantime and tickets will go on sale next week. During the break, we’ll get you some studio time to get us the last songs and then back on the road.” The nausea rolled back into him. He needed to finish the last two songs for the album. Usually all the songs would be finished before anything like this happened, but everyone wanted him out on the road and the public eye as a build up for his album release. They put out the singles to build the momentum as he toured.

  “Wow,” he said, leaning back in his chair, leg bouncing, nervous energy running through him. He wanted his guitar right now. His guitar and a drum kit, a keyboard, something. But he’d settle for drumming out a rhythm under the table to keep himself from losing it in front of the suits. Well, not suits really, since they were all in hoodies.

  “Yeah, wow! Welcome to the big-time Eric,” one of the hoodies said, smiling broadly. Smith slapped him on the back and squeezed his shoulder.

  “Now, there are some things we need you to do to make sure that things go smoothly. I know since you and Talia broke up, we’ve been playing up the heartbroken angle.” At the mention of her name, his good mood evaporated into thin air. He hadn’t been playing anything, but the label was more than happy to do it for him. He hadn’t really cared because he could just let it slide and keep pushing on. “I know there have been a lot of rumors out there about what happened and her cheating on you and while I know it sucks, this is excellent for your image,” the record exec who had to be at least sixty in a beige hoodie and jeans, tried to tell him that his dumpster fire of a former relationship worked to his advantage. He’d been working on a song about her, about her betrayal and pain she inflicted. He needed to get it out to completely wash the whole experience away.

  “She’s hot right now after being in a few music videos, but you’re still sympathetic. She’s the bad girl and you’re the good guy, let’s not forget that.”

  This meeting was veering off into a direction he didn’t like.

  “Vulnerable plays so well with the female audiences. And you’ve been wronged, your next single about her is going to get you major bonus points when it comes to keeping those audiences on your side. But what happened last night doesn’t help that and there have been rumors about things happening on tour with Uncharted. All together it doesn’t play well to the image we are cultivating.”

  “We know that they can get involved in some serious partying, which is great for their image, but we don’t think that would play well for you right now,” said another exec., in a light blue hoodie. “It might even be best if you’re seen with someone new and we think this girl would be perfect,” they said, looking at the picture of Keira. How the hell would they even know? Most of her hair was flopped over her face in the picture. And what did they want him to do exactly? She was a friend of a friend. He wasn’t going to screw her over for his image.

  “It will also stop any rumors about what this may or may not have been.”

  “It wasn’t anything—“ He tried to interject, but they plowed on.

  “Perception is reality and what this seems like isn’t good, we need to correct before it gets out of hand. With this girl, it will make fan ravenous for the new story and Talia will be old news.”

  “Don’t you guys represent Talia as well?”

  There was a grumble from around the table as the exec all looked to one another. Eric’s manager, Smith, patted him on his arm to get his attention.

  “They do, but you’re up and coming right now and they need to focus on you. Talia’s doing her own thing, so it’s better to put all of our energies into making sure your tour is a success.”

  “We will be putting our full support behind the tour and album release. And one of the things we’ll be offering your fans will be something custom with each show. We’re still brainstorming on what that will be. It might be a custom keychain or a t-shirt or something like that.”

  Thinking back to the photos he’d seen of Keira and how to solve the image problem the label thought he was stepping into, an idea struck him. He knew her job had dried up for the summer and she was a hell of an artist from the few photos he’d seen. His head perked up and Smith furrowed his eyebrows and stared at him.

  “What?” he whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “What about artwork?” Eric said, his head snapping up to the hoodies across the table.

  Everyone who had been throwing out ideas from the other side, immediately turned to him.

  “Artwork?”

  “Yeah, photography taken on the day of the show or during the concert or something like that. It could be something personal that the fans get to take away. A photo book or something of the tour stop or the whole tour.” He could help Keira out with her summer job and show everyone he wasn’t some crazy asshole who took advantage of a passed out woman.

  More conferring and whispering on that side of the table as all the hoodie-wearing execs got together and were gesturing, grumbling and glancing back at him. Smith’s legs bounced a mile a minute. He gave Eric a strained smile and he wondered if it had been a colossal mistake to bring that up. Thinking about it, maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea. Inviting Keira along on tour probably wasn’t one of his better ideas. He hadn’t run this past her. Did she even want to get mixed up with him? Did he want her on tour with him chronicling his every move?

  Who the hell was he kidding? It took everything in him and a cold shower the night before not to pull her into his arms when she finally stopped puking. And the music that hit him this morning had been some of the most inspi
red he’d had in a long while. She could be just what he needed to get his writing back on track. And he needed all the distraction he could get before he drove himself insane being on tour alone. The internal battle waged in him about this idea as the Hoodies continued their conference.

  “It could work,” said green hoodie. “It could be something more personal. Backstage moments, hanging on the tour bus. Have prints done and ready for fans to pick up at the show. And do a whole coffee table book to wrap the tour,” one of the hoodie said, stroking his chin and looking very satisfied with himself.

  “But what about hiring an artist on such short notice. We would need someone who could follow the tour, it would be too much of a hassle to set something up in every city. And we’d need to know if it even worked,” black hoodie added. They conferred a bit longer, leaving Eric and Smith drumming their fingers on the table as they waited.

  “I have the perfect artist.” It was do-or-die time. He gulped.

  “Who?”

  “Her,” he said pointing at the pictures splayed across the table. “She’s a great photographer and I know she’s available for the summer and maybe beyond that,” he said, almost in a single breath. There came a collective ‘hmm’ from the other side of the table as they all glanced between him and the pictures.

  “We’ll let you know as soon as we decide.” The Hoodies stood and so did Eric and Smith. They’d been dismissed. The pair strode out of the conference room and waited by the elevators. Neither said anything as they stood silently anticipating those doors opening in front of them. His heart pounded in his throat, this was huge for him and his family, for his career. His fingers buzzed in anticipation.