“Let me worry about the budget,” he says. “We want to present a certain image, and you setting up your own equipment reeks of mediocrity. You have to spend money to make money.”
“When is the making money part supposed to happen?” Brad asks.
“These things take time,” Jeremy says. “You need to trust me. More importantly, you need to trust Ronni.” He opens the door to leave, and I see the dust cloud trailing behind Ronni’s car.
“Dude,” Brad says to Crew after Jeremy is gone. “That woman wants in your pants.”
Crew shrugs like he couldn’t care less.
Brad backtracks. “Sorry, Bria. No disrespect.”
“How are things between the two of you?” Liam asks.
“We’re good,” Crew says. He goes to the stage, turning when nobody follows. “Oh, come on. You saw the material, right? You have to admit it’s amazing.”
Garrett twirls a drumstick. “It’s great, but we need one more.”
“Seriously? We did our job. Ronni sprung the fourteenth song on us. We should at least rehearse while we’re here.”
“Time better spent on the last song,” Liam says. “Besides, I’ve got work to do. I’ve got to write all the music for the ones you gave us yesterday.”
“You’re kicking us out again?” I ask.
“You know it’s not that,” he says, ushering us to the door. “We need this, Bria. We’re so close to greatness. Can’t you taste it?”
Crew whips out his notebook. “Sweet, I like it.” He scribbles down some words, mumbling, “We’re so close to greatness, we can taste it.”
Liam laughs. “See? You’re inspired already. Now go and do what you do.”
Crew steps through the door, still jotting notes.
“Bria, hold up a sec,” Liam asks, holding me back. “Are you guys really okay?”
“I’m not sure what we are, Liam. But we’re good.”
“If you ever need to talk.”
I glance at Crew, standing next to my car. “You’ve known him a long time, haven’t you?”
“Since we were kids.”
“He says he’s fucked up.”
“I know.”
“Do you know why?”
Liam shuffles his feet. “Yeah.”
I lean against the wall. “But you’re not going to tell me.”
“Sorry. Bro code and all.”
“Was it bad?”
“Bria,” he warns.
“I like him. And I guess I’m asking if he’s—”
“Worth it?”
“I was going to say damaged. But yeah, that too.”
“I think he’s both. He’s damaged and worth it. If you’re asking for my advice, I’d say give him time. He’ll come around.”
“He won’t let me look in his notebook. I’ve shared some of my stuff with him, but he’s guarded about his.”
“You know better than anyone that songwriters bleed in their songs. There’s a lot of fucking blood on his pages, Bria.”
“That’s what I thought. Thanks, Liam.”
“There she is,” a large man says approaching the barn.
“Great,” Liam says, obviously less than pleased to see the man.
“Bria Cash, I presume,” he says, holding out a hand. “I’ve been wanting to meet you. Jeremy says you’re a real spitfire.”
Crew comes over and stands next to me. “This is Dirk, Liam’s uncle.”
“Oh. Nice to meet you, Mr—”
“Just Dirk. How are things going? I trust these boys are treating you right.”
Crew inches closer.
“Things are great,” I say. “I’m having the most fun.”
“Good.” He looks at my car. “Is this your ride?” He hands me his card. “Come by and see me, and we’ll see what we can do about getting you an upgrade. Unless you’re like our boy, Chris, and insist on driving an old piece of shit.”
“Her car runs fine, Dirk,” Liam says.
How would he know? He’s never been inside it. Why is he being so short with his uncle?
“Okay, then. But the offer stands. Liam, I know your aunt would love it if you brought your friends to dinner once in a while.”
“Sure thing,” he snarls.
“I’m sure your mom would like it, too.”
I think I see Liam cringe.
“Bye, Dirk,” he says and retreats into the barn.
Crew and I get in the car. “What’s with Liam? Seems as if he doesn’t like his uncle much.”
“He hates him.”
“But Dirk has pretty much funded the band.”
“You mean he’s controlled it. Kind of like he’s controlled Liam.”
“Controlled him? What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
Crew scribbles in his notebook, ending our conversation.
I’m beginning to think there are a lot of secrets in this band.
Chapter Twenty
Crew
Seven years ago
The baby squirms beneath my hand.
“She likes it when you sing to her,” Abby says.
“I know he does.”
Abby thinks it’s a girl, while I’m convinced it’s a boy. We didn’t find out. We want to be surprised. The truth is I’d be happy with a daughter, especially if she gets all of Abby’s good qualities. Like her beautiful eyes, her sense of style, and her voice. I pray the baby inherits her amazing voice.
I sink back into the couch, and she lies on her back and puts her head in my lap. I continue to run my hand across her protruding belly.
She puts her hand on top of mine. “One more week ‘till I’m eighteen.”
“I know it’s been hard for you. Even more so lately.”
She laces our fingers together. “Sometimes I can’t believe we made it this long without anyone finding out. I have to stop myself from touching my stomach when she kicks. Do you know how hard that is? Don’t even get me started on the clothes. I haven’t been able to button my jeans for over two months. Even my yoga pants are getting too tight. It will be a relief when we don’t have to hide it anymore.”
I trace the outline of her jaw with my finger. “What do you think your parents will say?”
“It doesn’t matter. We have our plan, and there is nothing they can do about it after next Thursday.”
“Do you know how much I love you?”
Her eyes get misty. “If it’s half as much as I love you, I’m a lucky girl.”
“Then you’re the luckiest girl in the world.” I lean down to kiss her forehead. Then I muse aloud, “Lucky Rewey. Hmm.”
She giggles. “We are not naming the baby Lucky.”
“Well, nothing goes well with Rewey, so we’re pretty much screwed.”
“Abigail does,” she says.
“Abigail Rewey.” I smile big. “Damn, that does sound good.”
“How about Kate?”
“Kate?” I shake my head. “Our baby is going to have rock stars for parents. We need to be more creative than that. I was thinking more along the lines of Slash.”
“We’re not naming our son Slash.”
“Who says Slash can’t be a girl’s name too? But I’m glad you finally agree it’s a boy.”
“I’m doing no such thing.” She rubs her belly. “It’s a girl. A mother knows.”
A lump forms in my throat. “Shit, Abbs. You’re going to be a mother. I mean, I know that, but sometimes reality just creeps up on me. I’m gonna be a dad.”
“You’re gonna be the best dad.”
We gaze at each other. We do that a lot. That’s the reason I know we’re meant to be together—we never get tired of looking at each other. Even when we don’t talk, it’s never awkward or uncomfortable.
The front door opens and Mom comes in. Abby doesn’t bother lifting her head off my lap. Mom knows all about us. We had to tell her. We can’t afford a place of our own while we’re in high school. She didn’t even wait for me to ask; she invited Abby to mov
e in as soon as we told her she was pregnant. She’s well aware of how strict Abby’s parents are. For the past several months, we’ve been planning—all three of us. I think Mom is even a little excited about having a grandchild.
She hands Abby a bag. “I couldn’t resist.”
Abby sits up and removes a tiny yellow outfit that reads My Parents Rock.
Abby and I laugh. It’s the first baby thing we’ve gotten. Somehow it makes this more real than before.
“It’s perfect,” Abby says, getting off the couch to hug my mom. “She’ll wear it home from the hospital.”
“You mean he will,” I say.
Mom snickers. “It’ll work either way because it’s yellow.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Rewey. For everything. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
“I think we’re past ‘Mrs. Rewey,’ Abby. You’re moving in next week, and you’re having my grandchild. You should call me Shelly.”
Abby smiles. “Okay … Shelly. Wow, that feels strange. I’ll have to get used to that.”
“We’ll all have to get used to a lot of things,” Mom says. “Speaking of which, do you guys want to go shopping with me tomorrow for a new bed?”
“A new bed?” I ask.
“Surely you don’t expect Abby to sleep in your full-sized one. You both may fit now, but in a few months, she’s going to need more space.”
I cock my head to the side. “You’re going to let her sleep in my room? We thought she’d be in the guest room.”
“It sounds strange to think it and even stranger when you say it out loud, but it’s not like you’ll get her more pregnant, Chris. What’s done is done. Plus you’ll be married soon. Why postpone the inevitable? And the guest room is more suited for a nursery, don’t you think?”
“Why can’t my parents be more like you, Mrs., er, Shelly.”
“They’ll come around,” Mom says. “Wait until they see their grandbaby.”
“I think you give them too much credit,” Abby says. “I’m fully prepared for them to cut me out of their lives.”
“Nonsense. I can see how much they love you. That won’t change because you’ve done something they don’t approve of. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I approve either, but you know what they say about lemons and lemonade.” She touches Abby’s stomach. “This baby is all kinds of lemonade.”
“My dad will say I’m an embarrassment.”
“Perhaps, but he’ll get over it.”
“He’ll try to make me give the baby up for adoption.”
“That’s not really his choice, is it?”
“He won’t be happy about me moving in here.”
“You’ll be eighteen, honey. It’s your decision, not his. And you never know. They might surprise you. Maybe they’ll want you and the baby to stay there.”
I tug Abby closer to me. “No way. She’s moving here, and we’re getting married.”
“Even if they say Abby and the baby can live with them?”
I turn and look directly into Abby’s eyes. “Even then. I’m not marrying you to give you a place to live. I’m not even sure I’m marrying you because of the baby. I’m marrying you because that’s how things are meant to be. You and I were going to end up together no matter what.”
Mom tears up. “I raised a hell of a son,” she says.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“What do you two have planned for today?” Her smile wanes, and she looks at me guiltily. “I almost forgot. You’re playing at the fair tonight.”
“You’re coming, right?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m only sad nobody will get to hear Abby sing.”
I smile. “This will be the last concert where she doesn’t. After next week, she’ll officially be a singer for Naked Whale.”
Abby giggles and sits back down awkwardly. “Kind of apropos, considering I’ll be as big as one soon.”
“Are you going to watch them play?” Mom asks her. “Do you want to go with me?”
“I wouldn’t miss it, but I work until seven. I’ll take a change of clothes with me and go when I get off. I’m sure I’ll see you there, Shelly.”
Mom is pleased at Abby’s use of her first name. “I’ll be right where I always am, in the front row.”
I call after her as she leaves the room, “My mom. Naked Whale’s biggest fan.”
She calls back, “Chris Rewey’s biggest fan.”
“Your mom is so nice,” Abby says.
“Yeah. I kind of hit the jackpot where moms are concerned.” I look at the time. “I wish you didn’t have to go to work.”
“Me too, but we’re going to need the money.”
“Has that asshole bothered you anymore?”
“Rob? Not since you told him to fuck off last week.”
Mom pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Don’t curse around the baby.”
“Sorry, Shelly!” Abby says.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “He hasn’t come to the drive-thru?”
“Nope. Someone said he got a job at a gas station on the other side of town.”
“Good. I’m glad I was there when he came in and harassed you. Dude creeps me out. He’s way too old to be talking to teenage girls.”
“Tell me about it.”
I touch a lock of her hair. “Old guy or not, I don’t want anyone looking at my girl that way.”
“Babe, you have nothing to worry about. It’s like the song we wrote. Do I need to sing it to you again?”
“You know I want you to, but you’ll be late for work.” We get off the couch. “I wish you could be up onstage with me tonight.”
“I will be soon. Do you think people will care that a pregnant girl is singing in a rock band?”
“I think they won’t even notice your baby bump once you start singing.”
She stretches up to kiss me. “You’re my biggest fan.”
“Hell yes, I am.”
I escort her to her car and give her one last kiss through the open window. “I’ll see you and Slash tonight?”
I can hear her laughter as she backs out of the driveway. Damn, I love her.
Chapter Twenty-one
Bria
I run downstairs to let Crew in. He hands me a coffee, knowing exactly how I like it, and we walk up to my apartment. When I unlock the door, he smiles.
“Ready to get to it?” he asks.
“I hope so.”
Yesterday afternoon was a disaster. Neither of us had anything worth working with. There are some lyrics I didn’t show him that might have sufficed, but I’m not willing to put myself out there like that.
“What’s today?” he asks. “Wednesday? Let’s try to get this done by tomorrow night, so we can rehearse Friday before our gig.”
“It is Wednesday.” I check the calendar. “In fact, today is exactly four months after we met.”
“How can you remember that?”
“It was after my sound check. We went to the diner, remember?”
“Yeah, but how did you know it was a Wednesday?”
“I remember everything about the tour. Every concert, every city. Everything.”
Crew’s jaw tightens. “I bet you do.”
I giggle. He’s jealous. “You’re not thinking about Adam Stuart, are you?”
“He’s been in your bed, Bria. The lead singer of one of the most successful bands of our time has been in your bed. It’s kind of hard to ignore that.”
It’s impossible not to smile. If he’s thinking about Adam in my bed, then he’s thinking about us there, too.
“Technically, he’s never been in my bed.”
“You know what I mean,” he huffs.
“Are you worried you won’t measure up?” I joke.
His eyes snap to mine. “Are we talking in bed or onstage?”
“Both, I guess.”
He rubs his jaw. “Come on, Miss We-Met-on-a-Wednesday, let’s get to work.”
I stare at him. Then the ca
lendar.
“What is it?”
“Give me a minute.” I reach for my notebook. I scribble, mark words out, and scribble some more. “What do you think about this?”
He reads over my shoulder.
It was a Wednesday when I met you
We got some food and dined
I was with him, the future grim
Was getting time to sink or swim
“That might work.” He nods his head over and over as he writes. “Yeah, this could work.”
“What is it?” I ask, excited. “Show me.”
He angles the page so I can see it.
It was a Tuesday when I saw you
Moments burned into my mind
I couldn’t stay, I ran away
The image of you still remained
“Crew, that’s great! That verse will be first. We can use all the days. Thursday is next. What should Thursday be? Found you? Kissed you? Loved you? Left you? If we have four verses, it makes sense to use love and then left.”
He nods. “Right.”
I hum a tune that I think will work, then I sing a lyric. “It was a Thursday when I loved you.”
Crew cuts in and sings, “Even though I’m not inclined.”
“Perfect,” I say. “What’s next?”
We gaze at each other, waiting for the words.
“Crap,” I say. “It’ll come to us.”
“No, wait.” He flips to the previous page, then back, making some notes. “How about this?”
I read the verse.
“It was a Thursday when I loved you, even though I’m not inclined, so close to greatness, we can taste it, let’s embrace it, never waste it.”
“You’re a genius,” I say. “Now the chorus.”
He shakes his head. “We’re on a roll, let’s write the fourth verse.”
“It was a Friday when I left you,” I say. When he doesn’t come up with the next line, I add, “Alone and far behind.”
He stares at the wall and recites, “You’re in my head, filled with regret, sometimes I wish we’d never met.”
I close my eyes, hoping he didn’t come up with those words because of me.
Reckless Obsession (The Reckless Rockstar Series) Page 12
