by Riley Scott
The mention of her bass player’s flub only made Frank scowl more. “That’s enough,” he said. “You can’t do a show without them. Keep that in mind before you start hurling insults.”
“I know, I know,” she said, holding her hands up as if she was being assaulted. “We’re a team and all that jazz. I’m just saying, we’re going to be fine tonight. We’ll rock the hell out of Austin. They’ll never know what hit them.”
“You’re playing to a huge crowd,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her and pointing around, emphasizing that she was the headliner for Austin’s biggest music festival of the year. “I just want to make sure you’re as amped and prepared as you need to be. This is a music-loving city, and you’ll be on stage for thousands who paid high-dollar prices for those tickets.”
“I am pumped,” she said, not allowing her facial expression to show just how excited she was. She was as happy to be living her dream as anyone could have been, but that didn’t mean she was going to give them all the satisfaction of knowing it. “Let’s go have some fun. Isn’t that what this whole thing is about anyway?”
He eyed her sideways. “Not too much fun,” he added, pulling off his sunglasses for a moment. “We can’t have another night like Chicago. I’m all about you kids having a blast out there. That is, indeed, what this is all about, but you also have to remember that news spreads like wildfire and I can’t have your face plastered about with bad publicity like it has been lately.”
The mention of her latest scandal caused her to stiffen. As she had told him before, it wasn’t her fault that kids had a fascination for putting their every encounter on the Internet. But she wasn’t going to get into that argument again.
“It’ll be fine,” she said, reaching up to pat him casually on the shoulder. “After all, that’s what people expect from us—sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll. I wouldn’t want to let my fans down.” She winked at him before turning back into her room for a moment, grateful she had opted to spend the extra money on a large bus with private rooms.
“I thought you were ready,” he called out, his voice rising in frustration.
“I am,” she said. “Just give me a minute to use the restroom. I’ll be right there and we can have a little fun with the rock ’n’ roll part of that bit.”
She heard his sigh as she shut the door in his face, leaving him back outside her world for a moment. Taking one last minute to herself, she eyed the Red Bull on the table and gave it a second of consideration. Knowing it wouldn’t be nearly adequate, she slipped into her bathroom and reached into her cabinet for the small locket engraved with her initials, the one thing that had survived through all the moves and all of the chapters of her life. She looked at it, remembering the day it had been given to her by her father on her fourth birthday. She shook her head, wondering how some memories held such clarity even twenty-three years later.
Running her fingers across the hard metal of the heart-shaped necklace charm, she slipped a nail in the crevice and carefully opened it up, before pouring out a line. One quick snort and she leaned back.
Finally awake for the day, she smiled into the mirror and headed out the door.
“Let’s go make some magic, Frank,” she said, putting her arm around him as they walked toward the building.
Looking up, she had to smile. This was what she lived for. A blue-sky day with white puffy clouds and right now, they seemed to come to life. And she knew she’d feel even more alive when she belted out the opening lines of her latest hit.
“We have a guest today,” Frank said, looking down in her direction, clearly oblivious to the magic she was experiencing.
“What kind of guest?” she asked, not letting his news blur her good mood. She glanced up at him briefly, noting the way worry seemed to cloud his eyes. She wanted it to fade and wished he felt as good as she did. She glanced away, not wanting to either see his anxiety or absorb it.
“You remember our conversation about hiring a public relations firm, right?” His voice was steeped in caution, as he quietly, but pointedly, enunciated each word.
Her heart raced, as she recalled the conversation, a combination of anxiety and frustration seething within her. Just because she had slipped up once didn’t mean she needed a nanny. Her latest mistake had been splashed about social media and plastered on the cover of every gossip rag, making her look like some kind of fool. To think that some outsider could come in and fix it was ludicrous. Her fans had moved on and so had anyone with a brain. It was the game to be a little wild. She was no exception to the rules of rock ’n’ roll. Anyone who looked back on the history of rocker scandals would see that she was the norm. She was what she was expected and trained to be. No one with any talent slipped through this fast-paced world of fame and entertainment without a few bumps along the way. She was just fine and she didn’t want someone with a pretty résumé joining the so-called “team” just to snoop around in her personal life. That would only make matters worse and interrupt how she was running her life and her career. This was no one else’s business.
“You know I don’t want to do that,” she said. “I don’t need it. I’m fine. I’m who my fans expect me to be and I don’t want to be some Barbie doll version of a rock star. We have too many of those. I’m not a bubble gum pop singer or one of the Golden Girls.”
“Don’t start in on that again,” he said, pulling away from her side and turning to face her. “I know that’s not who you are and we’re not going to change your image. We’re just going to clean it up a bit. We can’t have incidents anymore. We can’t afford them.”
“Sales didn’t drop a bit,” she said, sticking to her guns and shaking her head. “Not even a dip. I have checked every day since then.”
He raised an eyebrow at her and cocked his head to the side, seemingly questioning her intensity. “You have?” he asked after a moment.
“Of course I have,” she said, shrugging it off. “This is my career. It’s my art. I wanted to be sure I was making the right decision to forgo the agency and I am. I’m fine.”
When his eyes again showed signs of worry and his brow furrowed, she glanced at the ground. It was too painful to see legitimate concern in his eyes. “Look at me,” he said gently, giving her no choice but to comply. When she lifted her eyes to his, she saw the softness of a father figure and the pang in her heart was palpable. “We both know you’re not fine, honey. Talented as hell? Without a doubt. But fine? No. And I want to help you with that. We all do. This is for your own good.”
“It’s just so the public has something they can digest,” she said, shaking her head and refusing to let her feelings get in the way. “I appreciate you, Frank. You know that. But I still don’t want to do this and I’m not going to. I’m not going to have some outsider come in here and tell me how I need to look, what I can and can’t say, and who I’m supposed to be. If you remember, our last public relations chump lasted three weeks. That bastard gave me a list of words I couldn’t use.”
“And you used plenty of the words in telling him where he could shove his list,” Frank said, trying to keep his amusement out of his tone.
“And I’ll do the same to this one if you insist on making me even meet with them. But I don’t want to do it.”
“At least meet her,” he said. “This time, we stuck to the guidelines you requested. I know that the last one fell through, but we didn’t listen to your criteria then. This time, we brought you in a young woman, about your age—she’s twenty-eight. And she’s someone who can understand you as a person. I interviewed her personally. Unlike the others, she’s actually a fan of rock music. She’s been instructed not to interfere with who you are or change you. She’s simply here to make your public image more appropriate and clean. She’s one of the best in the game with a long list of successful client cases in her portfolio.”
“I’ll meet her,” she said, “but rest assured, she won’t last.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said, placing his arm aroun
d her and directing her toward the stadium. The move clearly cut the discourse short, but she was sure he was just as tired as she was of having the conversation. Nonetheless, she wasn’t giving in.
Chapter Two
Thankful that the plane ride had passed uneventfully, Chris looked around at her surroundings. After a quick stop at the hotel to drop off her things and freshen up, she went to the Frank Erwin Center. Luckily, the band was staying an extra night in Austin, so she was afforded something that would become a luxury—staying in an actual room instead of on the group’s bus.
She looked down at her dark skinny jeans, blue blouse and peep-toe heels. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her hands on her jeans. She had made the right choice in wardrobe. Not too classy, but not slouchy either.
As the guitarists and drummer jammed out onstage, the hot, dry air enveloped her. The star of the show was yet to grace the practice area, even though the sound and light crew were hard at work setting up equipment with the band.
Wringing her hands together to keep her palms from getting too sweaty, Chris tried not to focus on her racing heart. This is business, she reminded herself. You’re a professional.
Listening to the music, she smiled. There was nothing like strong rock to set a mood. They sounded crisp and well-practiced. The men showed raw talent. Yet they were having fun as they played, their passion for their craft seeping through every chord, every note.
“You’ve got this,” she reminded herself as they played the final note of their warm-up number. No amount of pep talking could still her nerves or keep her from feeling a volatile mix of anxiety and excitement. On one hand she felt like the teenage girl waiting to meet her celebrity crush. On the other, she felt suddenly unsure about whether accepting this opportunity had been the right move. She had done her research. The poor guy who had previously taken the position had been dispensed with quickly.
Perhaps no one could tame the beast that was Raven. She took a deep breath and silently went down a mental list of all of the clients she had pulled from the wreckage of their own stupidity. She vowed this one would be the same.
She craned her neck toward the doorway where she had seen the infamous Frank Karnes exit minutes before, but couldn’t see anything. She wanted to introduce herself before he ducked out, having recognized him from his years in the industry. But he had been quick to leave and his expression signified he was on a mission. Just like a diva to keep them all waiting, she thought. Glancing around, she decided that standing in wait was ridiculous. Instead, she chose a chair close to the stage and let the guitar riffs carry her away to another less stressful place.
“Glad to see you at least have good taste,” the raspy voice jolted Chris back into the moment, causing her to open her eyes and refocus.
Raven stood in front of her, in the flesh. Chris managed a smile as she stared into deep chocolate-brown eyes. Raven’s dark hair was disheveled, slight waves all the way down the middle of her back. Her angular face still held its astounding beauty, but her mouth showed no signs of a smile and her eyes no sign of amusement. Nonetheless, she was easily the most beautiful woman Chris had ever seen.
Standing, she regained her composure. “Good morning,” she said, letting her smile deepen and hoping her cheeks didn’t betray her by blushing. “I’m Christina Villanova. I’m going to be handling some of your public relations efforts moving forward.”
“Raven,” she responded, offering her a hand but stubbornly remaining stiff and unapproachable. “We’ll see if you pass the test.” Chris marveled at just how tall Raven was in person and how quickly the words seemed to tumble out of her mouth, as if her world was moving faster than everyone else’s. Raven stood a solid half foot taller than she did, yet Chris held her ground, refusing to be intimidated by her stature or her coldness.
With that, Raven turned and took the stage.
“I’m sorry,” Frank started, but Chris held a hand up to stop his apology.
“No need,” she said. “It’s fine. I’m used to it. Most people don’t want help or think they need help. I didn’t expect any less. I’m Christina, by the way.”
“Frank Karnes,” he said, extending his right hand for a formal introduction, although the two of them had spoken on the phone and corresponded via email for weeks.
“Nice to finally meet you,” she said, accepting his handshake.
“Likewise.”
She smiled warmly at Frank, thankful that he clearly had her back, and took her seat again. Still jolted, she took a second to reflect on what had just transpired. She had expected something a little different—not from a professional perspective, but certainly as a young girl who had admired the rocker since she had come onto the music scene almost a decade ago. As an eighteen-year-old, Chris had marveled at the star who instantaneously took the world by storm.
On stage, Raven transformed before her eyes. Gone was the sullen and quietly combative woman she had just met and in her place stood someone confident and fun-loving—the woman she admired. Clad in nothing more than a pair of jeans, a pair of Converse and a plain red V-neck T-shirt, she looked stunning—even more so than she usually did, with her hair and makeup perfected for the stage.
“It’s about time you got out of bed,” her drummer teased.
“That’s enough out of you, stick boy,” she shot back, sticking her tongue out at him childlike, innocent and free from the pressures of the world. “I didn’t have to show up early, Paul. I know the new song.” Her voice held a tease that made the other members of the band smile as she cast her eyes to the bassist.
“That happened one time,” Pete the bassist said, offering nothing more in explanation than a shrug.
“Yeah, one time,” she said. “During your solo part of yesterday’s practice, thus why we didn’t unveil the song last night.”
“I’ve got it down,” he said good-naturedly. His sheepish grin showed hints of embarrassment. “You left me plenty of extra practice time today to get it down pat.”
“Good,” she said, giving him a wink. “Don’t let me down.” Chris watched as she turned to her guitarist. “What about you, Joe? Are we good to go?”
“You know it,” he said, nodding even though he seemed somewhat nervous.
Chris couldn’t help but wonder what their day-to-day lives must be like and if she was always as intimidating as she seemed this morning—or if this was just a show put on for Chris’s behalf, to let everyone know that she was, indeed, the boss.
“We’re ready to rock, bro,” she said, nudging her guitarist on her right. “Hit it.” Her voice came out as more of a growl than anything and her lips curled up into a villainous grin. As the beat swelled, Chris watched in awe. Almost as if she noticed Chris’s positive reaction, Raven turned her attention to the front row. “You’re in for a treat, PR lady,” she said, offering a seductive up-and-down look and winking. “You’re about to hear the song we finished on the road just a few weeks ago and it’s going to rock your world.”
Despite her better judgment Chris smiled back. She didn’t want to fuel the fire of Raven’s arrogance, but she felt helpless against it. Her charm dripped off her every word, even in condescension, and Chris knew that’s how she always got her way.
The drumbeat had her entranced already and when the guitar joined in, Chris knew she was in for a treat. The music came alive around her, reverberating off the walls and making the huge stadium feel more like a grunge garage—quaint, yet rebellious.
“Who are you,” Raven sang the opening lines, closing her eyes and moving to the beat. Gone was the chip on her shoulder. This was real. This was what people needed to see off stage. “Who are you to tell me how to live my life?”
As the beat intensified, Chris listened to the words, uncertain if they had been directed at the backlash of her latest scandal, or if they were about something deeper. As the chorus neared, Raven was half-screaming, half-growling the lyrics, her deep, throaty voice striking every chord within Chris’s body.
“Maybe if you looked inside,” she sang, making the deep notes seem effortless as she jumped up and down to the beat onstage. “Maybe if you looked inside yourself for once, maybe you’d see what I see, yeah maybe you’d see, that you’re the same as me.”
The words seemed to ignite something within Raven as she gave a full performance to an empty stadium. When she turned her eyes in Chris’s direction, Chris could have sworn they seemed to catch fire and burn into her soul. “Maybe you’d see there’s a demon in you, yeah I can see clearly, it’s the same one that’s eating at me.”
Raven sang out, letting her voice reach its deepest octave. “Staring at us in the mirror, those bloodshot eyes, a cold ghost of what was, try my demons on for size.”
When the guitar solo took over, Raven cast her one final, unreadable glance before moving to work the other side of the stage. Even without a crowd, she was in the moment, focusing her entire being into perfecting her routine. Chris hoped that, at some point in the future, Raven would dedicate as much energy and investment into her persona, her people skills, as she did at perfecting her craft. Regardless, she had to admire everything about the performance—and the words that she knew had come directly from Raven.
Chris was a fan of singer-songwriters and that had been one of her major draws to Raven early on. Every lyric was penned by the rocker herself and every word of this song seemed to scream a cry to be understood, to be left alone and to express her inner turmoil.
Raven sang, her eyes closed as she moved to the beat.
As the song came to a close, Raven and her guitarist stood back to back, both pouring every bit of themselves into the last notes.
“So, what do you think?” Raven asked, raising an eyebrow in Chris’s direction.
Put on the spot, Chris wanted to say that she saw a rare vulnerability in Raven’s questioning smile as she waited for an answer. However she quickly decided to forgo that response, knowing it would only alienate her from Raven even further.
