by RH Tucker
“Dad, I don’t really have the time. I’m taking a full course load, so it’s already challenging to get to the studio the days that I’m there as it is.”
It’s both true and not. I am taking a full course load, and my time is being juggled around right now, especially as I’m trying to adjust to life in college. Even with all of that, I could probably make time if I wanted to. But I don’t.
“Austin, you remember our deal, right?”
I’m about to take a bite of another onion ring when I drop the side dish. I stare back at him with the same apathetic glare that sometimes seems permanently attached to his face. “Of course I remember. You never let me forget.”
Setting his phone down, he smiles. It’s not a friendly expression, though. It’s a show of force. Smiling at me like he knows who’s boss and making sure I know it, too.
“Good. I want you to have a fine education at Ocean Crest University. I would’ve preferred you go to UCLA or USC, but OCU works just as well.”
“Here it comes,” I mumble. He doesn’t seem fazed.
“But I’ll only pay for your college tuition as long as you commit to the business degree and work at Rich Records. This is your inheritance, son. You’re my firstborn, I’m doing all of this for you.”
For me? Is he serious? He’s selling millions of records, making hundreds of millions of dollars, for me? No, he does what he does to show the world he’s one of the most powerful music moguls around. He’s married to the music business, cuts shady deal after shady deal, and gets away with it scot-free every time because even if the deal is horrible, he gets people to sign the contract anyway. There’s nothing they can do. He screws people over left and right, and he calls it’s making the right business decisions.
I love music but only the music. I want nothing to do with the business side of it. In my junior year in high school, when I told my dad I wanted to be a music teacher, he laughed. As a matter of fact, he laughed in my face. He gave me reason after reason why it’s a horrible idea—teachers don’t make good money, kids don’t listen, and his favorite of all of them was the arts and music programs in schools are disappearing. I won’t even have a job. I think he hated it mostly because my mom’s a teacher. When I told him I’d find something or I’d make my own way by tutoring people, he laughed again.
Well, he wasn’t laughing when I got into Ocean Crest and told him I was majoring in education. He flipped out. If I had known how bad it was going to be, I would’ve applied for student loans and scholarships. He said he’d only pay for my education if I work for him part-time, and get a degree in business. With the date looming to pay for my first semester, I finally agreed to his terms.
What he doesn’t know is I lied about the degree. I’m still going to become a teacher because screw him. He’ll be shocked in four years when I’m announced as graduating with a degree in education. That is if he shows up. He didn’t for my high school graduation.
“Yeah, I know,” I finally reply.
“And stop fraternizing with the security guard. You have to act like a boss in the building, otherwise people will walk all over you.”
“Dad, I’m the boss’ son. People are either already afraid to interact with me, or suck up to me. Besides, Shawn is cool. That’s why I asked if he wanted to room together.”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about.” I lift my brow, unsurprised. “Anyway, I’m glad we’re still clear on that.” He looks me up and down like it’s the first time he’s seeing me, even though we’ve been sitting here for forty-five minutes. Maybe it is since he was an hour late. He works off his own schedule but makes sure I’m here regardless of my own plans. That’s another thing about these weekly meetings. They’re to make sure I’m, quote-unquote, “staying on schedule” with his timeline.
“Get a haircut,” he says. “And shave. Good businessmen are clean-cut, not Neanderthals with five o’clock shadows all day long.”
I shake my head, letting out an annoyed chuckle. “It took me eighteen years to finally start growing facial hair. I’m gonna enjoy it before I’m superglued into a suit and tie working for you. I’m in college now, anyway.”
He stares at me like I’m literally speaking Klingon now. Rolling his eyes, he scans his phone again, then gets up from the table. “I have to go.” He sets a hundred-dollar bill on the table and says, “Only tip ten percent. Keep the rest. Same time next week.”
It’s not a question, and he doesn’t wait for a reply. Letting out a deep breath, I watch as he turns and leaves the restaurant. His Neiman Marcus onyx suit, one of a dozen he has, shines as the sun hits it through the windows. He walks with a purpose; always has. He never looks back, and I can only shake my head at the man I call Dad, whose last fatherly gesture I think was when I was ten, and he said it’s okay to cry after my pet hamster died.
After wiping my hands on my napkin, I toss it over my plate and half-uneaten bacon cheeseburger. The waitress stops by, asking, “Can I get you anything else? Dessert, perhaps?”
I offer her a smile. “No, thanks, I’m good.” I get up from the table, and as she turns to leave, I tap her shoulder. “Don’t worry about the check.” I point to the hefty bill. “Keep the change.”
Her face lights up. My burger, onion rings, soda, and my dad’s two drinks; in this place, it probably came out to around fifty bucks or so. Fifty bucks tip ain’t half bad.
3
Jade
“That’s the last one,” Maddox says, setting down a cardboard box on my new bedroom floor.
I’m moving into my uncle Peter’s penthouse instead of traversing back and forth. I probably could’ve bought a small apartment somewhere in the city, but Peter offered, and I figured why not. Since we’re done touring, he’s hardly home while he focuses on his other clients.
“Jade, our house is only thirty minutes away,” Maddox says, undoing one of the boxes.
“Hey, don’t do that.” I push him away, closing the lid to the box.
“What?” He shrugs. “It’s just books and stuff. I was only helping.”
“Okay.” I nod with a grin and go to a box, knowing what’s inside. Undoing the top, I reach in and pull out a pair of underwear. “Here, catch.”
He reacts without thinking, catching the piece of clothing. “What’s this— Ew!” He immediately drops the underwear. “That’s disgusting.”
I laugh, walking over and picking them up. They’re cute, too. Light pink with little diamonds imprinted on them. “Believe me, not as disgusting as seeing your boxer briefs lying around on the tour bus. Anyway, I want to unpack myself. Get a feel for the place.”
“A feel?” He quirks an eyebrow. “You’re such an artsy songwriter. It’s a bedroom, Jade.”
“I know that, Maddox,” I reply, mocking him. “And back to our discussion, I know our place is only thirty minutes away, but Peter’s place is within walking distance. Not to mention the galleria is close by, and the park.”
“Like you’re going to walk or spend time at the park. You’ll get mobbed in seconds.”
“Hey, I know how to disguise myself as much as you guys.”
He nods, then turns to head back to the door. Once we reach the door, the penthouse entryway opens directly into an elevator. He hits the button, and we wait for the lift. Scanning the living room opening again, he remarks, “I have to admit it, Jade, Peter’s place is awesome. We could throw some sweet parties here.”
“Maddox, don’t even start.”
He laughs. “I’m just sayin’.” The elevator dings and the doors open. We both step in, and he hits the first-floor button. “You sure you’re gonna be okay?”
Maddox is not one for warm and fuzzy feelings. He’s completely embraced his King of Bad nickname in the band and takes full advantage of being the bad boy of the group. He likes to party, have fun, and act carefree. And for the most part, he is.
But he’s also my twin brother. Sometimes people give us a double take. Not only is our gender different, but h
e’s dark-haired, and I’m dirty blonde. The only physical similarity between us is our green eyes. Our personalities are probably what differentiates us the most, though.
I like easygoing music or alt-rock type stuff, and he likes club music with loud bass. He loves life on the road when we’re touring, while I could just as easily stay home and do the little club shows we do on occasion, instead of performing in front of thousands of people.
He drinks, and I’m straight edge, something he likes to make fun of me for. I know he does it with love, and there’s never any malice behind his words. There was a small incident when we started touring with Maddox that made my mind up about alcohol and drugs. Not that Maddox abuses drugs, but just like any other eighteen-year-old out there, he has fun. And being who we are, anything and everything is readily available to us. I’m just glad he prefers partying in clubs and girls over other worse vices.
All of that said, when it’s just him and me? When no one else is around, there’s a soft side of Maddox that he rarely shows anyone else. EJ and Derrik have seen it, but only a handful of times. He’s four minutes older than me, but there are times when he acts like I’m his kid sister. I know he’d do anything for me, and me for him.
Reaching over, I grab his hand. He offers me a smile. The real Maddox smile, not the crooked, cocky grin he likes to keep on display. “I’m gonna be fine, Maddy.” He chuckles at the nickname I only call him on occasion. “Like you said, I’m close to home still. It’s not like I’m moving across the country or something.”
He lifts his shoulders. “I know. I just … you’re gonna be all alone.”
“I won’t.” I smile. The elevator dings again, and the door opens. As if she was listening in to our conversation, Lillian is waiting on the first floor. “Lily!” I yell, rushing to her and wrapping my arms around her.
She squeezes me back. “I was just gonna call you to head up.”
“Lily,” Maddox says, stepping closer to her. “Lily, Lily, Lily.”
Letting me go, she moves toward Maddox, putting a finger to his chest. “That’s my name, Maddox. At least, the last time I checked.”
I usually might intercede. Lily is my best friend. We went to school together, and she graduated while I was traveling the world with the Kings. Because we all went to school together, that means she and Maddox have a history. But it was a very brief history. Actually, brief might even be too long of a word. They went out on one date during our sophomore year. She told him it was fun but that she wasn’t interested. Since she was my best friend, it felt weird. I don’t tease him about it too much, but times like these make it too easy.
“Would you two like to be alone?” I ask, glancing over at Maddox. “Oh, that’s right. It wouldn’t do any good.”
He wrinkles his nose, giving me an unamused smirk. “It still stings, Jade.”
“Oh, poor Maddox.” Lily mockingly ruffles his hair.
He gives me a side-eye. “This doesn’t instill confidence in me. You two together? You might not like to admit it, but you guys were troublemakers back in school.”
“I resent that.” Lily jabs his shoulder. “We were not troublemakers; we just knew the right buttons to push.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He gives me a quick hug, then heads through the lobby of our building. “Let me know how the recording goes, Jade. I’ll lay down some tracks whenever you want.”
“Love you, Maddy.”
“Love you, too, sis.”
Lily giggles, grabbing my arm. “I can’t believe you’re here. I’ve missed you!”
“Aw, I missed you, too.”
“Did you want to head up? I can help you unpack.”
I shake my head and start heading toward the front doors of the building. “There’s not that many boxes. Come on, I want to go out.”
She grabs my arm just before I reach the automatic doors. “Are you crazy, girl? We can’t go out.”
“Don’t worry, I have a disguise.” I’m wearing a small, white hoodie, and start to zip it up. Pulling the hood over my head, I tug the drawstrings, tightening it a little.
“Yeah, I don’t know if that’s going to work, Jade.”
“Wait, I haven’t finished.” Reaching into the sweater pocket, I pull out a pair of sunglasses. The frames are black and brown, and wide enough to cover not only my eyes but my eyebrows as well. “See? Huh?” I bump her elbow with mine.
She lets out a giggle, then shakes her head. “Fine, let’s go, secret agent. But if those shades fall off and we get bombarded with your fans, I’m running. I don’t care if I leave you behind or not.”
“So much for sisterly bond,” I joke.
“You’re the Queen of Kings. I’m a college freshman. I think you can handle it.”
We both giggle as we head through the doors.
4
Austin
“You’re crazy,” I repeat, pushing Shawn’s arm as he laughs.
“I’m telling you, every day she stops in front of that building, jogging with her little poodle,” he continues his story. He’s been telling me how a lady always jogs in front of a building across the street from Rich Records, dressed in tight yoga pants and a sports bra. “She’ll stop and start looking inside that building. She’s checking for the postal carrier.”
“You’re crazy!” I say for the third time, still laughing. “She is fine, though.”
His head snaps up from the front desk he’s sitting behind, his eyes meeting mine. “You didn’t tell me you’re into cougars.”
I shake my head. “Oh, come on. She can’t be over forty. Forty-five max.”
“Yeah. That’s, like, your mom’s age, isn’t it?”
“Come on, man!” I sock his shoulder, and we both start laughing.
Shawn’s a year older than me and has been working at the front desk of the building for a while now. When I’m in the building I’m either in one of the studios learning from different music producers, or I’m hanging out at the front desk with Shawn. I know, it’s such a back-breaking job.
To tell you the truth, I still have no idea what my official title is. Nor do I know what I’m actually supposed to be doing while I work for my father. I sit in on a couple of meetings with him, but when I asked him what I’m supposed to do, he said just watch over the place. Um, okay.
“Dude! Dude! Dude!” He grabs my shoulder, wildly shaking me.
Looking through the crystal-clear windows and double doors of the front of the building, I see the woman he was just talking about. Today she’s in dark green yoga pants, with a gray and blue sports bra. Her dog—a shaved poodle with a fluff of hair on the top of its head and its tail—waits patiently while she contorts her body to peer into the building.
“That mailman must be packing something.”
He laughs. “Who says it’s not a mail lady?”
I pause for a minute, glancing at him. “Even better.”
She waits for a moment longer, and then she goes on her way.
Shawn’s a cool guy. Slightly shaggy hair, but not as much as mine. His is more surfer-style, bedhead type stuff, but he catches the eyes of the girls that work in the building. It has to be the suit. It’s not a police officer uniform, but he’s dressed in a pressed white shirt and black pants as a security guard. It’s not a dangerous job, though. His level of security doesn’t even require him to carry a stun gun. He does have a holster for a canister of mace, but that’s about it.
“How’s school been?”
“You know, it’s school. How about you?”
“Living the community college life, my friend.”
“Must be nice.”
“Get the hell out of here.” He pushes my shoulder. “Mr. Full Ride to Ocean Crest University, you don’t have it that bad.”
“All on my dad’s bill, you know that.”
“I keep telling you, Austin. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“And I still don’t have any idea what that means.”
He laughs, leaning agai
nst the small desk. “I don’t either. Something my grandpa used to tell me. I think it means you’re not supposed to eat from the horse trough or something like that.”
I stare at him for a minute, wondering if that’s really what it means. Common sense takes over and I start laughing, which earns one out of him.
I’m at Rich Records a few days out of the week, and I look forward to hanging out with him in front. I guess I should be glad I’m calling this place a job. I don’t clock in or out, and I don’t answer to anyone. In lieu of an official paycheck from the company, my father deposits enough money into my account every month that covers anything I need to live off of, and then some.
Taking a seat next to him, I throw my legs out and cross them, aiming to relax for the next hour I’m supposed to be here. That’s another thing about this job—as much as you can call it a job—it’s beyond easy. Almost everyone who works in the building knows where they’re going and what they’re doing. Shawn’s basically a glorified doorman, and I’m his trusty sidekick, the wealthy owner’s son.
Shawn’s phone chirps, and as he checks it, he comes to attention. Glancing over at him, I wait for him to say something, but all he does is reply to whoever texted him.
“What’s up?” I ask.
Taking a deep breath, he bites his bottom lip, then casts a sideways glance at me. “So … do you remember me talking about that girl I was trying to hook up with? She’s in my calc class on Wednesdays.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve texted her a couple of times, and she just replied. She wants to go get some food.”
“All right, playboy.” I laugh, pushing his shoulder and calling him the nickname I’ve come up with. He’s not a playboy in the least, but I started calling him it when he told me about this new girl. “So, what’s the problem?”
