by RH Tucker
I lift my brows, impressed. Not that they’re the next Ramones, but that he’s got the audacity to say that.
“Yeah, yeah,” he continues. “We’re that good. Please, if you could just take the demo and—”
I shake my head, waving my head in refusal. “I’m sorry. Really, I am, but I can’t take anything. They’re unsolicited submissions. I can’t—”
“Oh, come on,” his words slur together. “You’re his son. Please, you have to—”
“Look, I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m sure whatever deal you have worked out with him, it’ll be all good.”
Tapping the CD case against his legs, he nods in disappointment. “Right. Yeah, okay.”
Without a handshake or even a good-bye, he turns around and heads back into the crowd. I’m not offended. It’s not the first time someone has tried to sneak their way closer to my father through me, and I know it won’t be the last.
Glancing over at the bar, I see that Shawn is out of the bathroom and chatting with a couple of girls who are all around a famous actress from a sitcom. We’ve been here for almost thirty minutes, and I’m already bored. But I can’t pull Shawn away, because he looks like he’s having fun. Plus, it’s not like he gets to be around this kind of setting very much.
I leave the room, head toward the stairwell, and jog down the six flights of stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. The building sits right on the Venice boardwalk, so walking outside of the building, I run into a group of paparazzi. They’ve been covering the building for two hours. They all started shouting when the door opened, but as soon as they saw I was a no one, they quieted down.
Crossing the small sidewalk, I take a seat on a bench that sits in the sand. The cool breeze from the beachside air floats over my face and hair. Zipping up my hoodie, I shove my hands in my pockets. I hope Shawn doesn’t take very long.
Even though I’ve been to these parties and functions, I’m still not super comfortable around them. It’s not the celebrities or the glitz and glamour of it all. I put up with them, and I can talk to anyone who wants to talk, but it’s all so … much. Maybe the reason I’m not inclined to be around this atmosphere is that I know it’s everything my father represents.
Not just the rich and the powerful, but the chasing of the limelight. The continuous clawing for attention from those in the business. It’s fickle, but I’ve seen so many artists chase after it, regardless of what they might lose.
I take another deep breath from the ocean air and see what appears to be a group of friends hanging around a bonfire. I’d much rather be doing something like that than putting up with flashing cameras and people fawning over the allure of celebrities.
“Over here! Jade, right here!”
I hear a scream behind me. “Just leave me alone!”
“Jade, over here!”
“Stop!”
Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as Jade swats the air, trying to shoo away the photographers. She spins around, looking for something, only to throw her hands over her face. Gone is her hoodie and sunglasses disguise, replaced with dark blue jeans that are ripped and a form-fitting, small, pink shirt, with the sleeves cut short. She looks more dressed up than I’ve seen her, but not as dressed up as some of the stars I’ve come across tonight.
The paparazzi continue to yell, trying to take their photos.
“Leave me alone!” she says again, tucking her head between her shoulders, still covering her face.
“Hey!” I yell, hopping off the bench and running over to her.
I’ve seen her happy and nervous, and that day after her fight with her brother, I saw her upset. Right now, she seems freaked out.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Austin,” she breathes out, instantly wrapping her arms around me, burying her face in my neck. “Please get me out of here.”
“Come on,” I whisper to her, taking her hand.
15
Jade
Maddox has sent me a couple of text messages since our fight, but he’s kept his distance. When we get in arguments, that’s usually the protocol we follow with one another. But I know he’s been looking forward to deejaying this party for his friend.
When he first started hanging out with Adam Coleman last year, I thought it was weird. Sure, we were already exploding in the music world, and our concerts were selling out, but it’s Adam Coleman.
He’s won awards, starred in big-budget movies, and has been linked to some of the top starlets around Hollywood. But when Maddox first told me he was going to party with him, I was nervous. No matter how famous Adam is, he’s a few years older than us and has been in show business for over ten years. I thought he was trying to take advantage of my brother somehow. However, I quickly learned despite Adam being an actor and Maddox a musician, they not only have the arts in common, they have partying in common, too.
So, when Maddox told me he really wanted me at a party Adam was throwing, I decided it was finally time to end our little stand-off and join him. Since Lily can’t make it, and Derrik’s out of town with Zoey, I messaged EJ and Skye. Skye’s at a gig with her band, but EJ decided to join me.
“How’s the recording coming along?” EJ asks as we walk through the paparazzi waiting in the front of the building.
Heading inside, we get in the elevator and make our way up to the top floor. “It’s going good. I was hoping you might come in this week.”
“Yeah, that’d be awesome.”
“What about you? You and Skye going good?”
A wide smile crosses his face. “Yeah. Real good.”
I’m happy for them. Even though EJ’s older than me by a couple of months, I’ve always looked at him like a little brother. It’s probably due to how he likes to stay in the background. He doesn’t mind the spotlight, but he doesn’t go out searching for it.
“Maddox told me what happened between him and Bret,” EJ says.
The elevator dings, and the doors open to loud thumping bass and lights swirling around. “Yeah,” I call over to EJ. “It’s getting more annoying than usual. It feels like Bret’s contacting me every day. I know his deal is linked to me recording my stuff, but he’s starting to push it.”
“Sorry,” EJ replies.
He won’t tell me to dump him, take some time apart, or anything like that. Neither will Derrik. They both know Maddox says that stuff enough for both of them. That doesn’t mean I don’t know he’s thinking it.
“Speak of the devil,” I whisper to him, seeing Bret walk over to me.
“Babe! Isn’t this great?” he asks, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “Mitch is around here somewhere. Probably hooking up with someone. The bartender was hitting on him.”
I cringe, not only at the comment but the absurdity of it. “Are you drunk already?” I hiss, smelling the booze on him.
“Come on, it’s a party. Live a little,” he replies, pushing his red cup over to me.
I shove it away. “Stop. What are you doing?”
“Jade, I’m just having fun. Stop being so uptight.”
“You know I don’t drink.”
“Jesus, that lame, straight edge thing. You know that’s just an idiotic, cliché thing ever since punk bands, right?”
I don’t know why I snap. Maybe it’s because he’s treading on my last nerve since I’ve been recording. Or it’s his drunken stupidity, where he thinks everything’s a joke or one big party is starting to wear thin. Whatever it is, I push him away.
“Yeah. It’s all about punk bands and how you’re the next great thing.”
Hurrying away from him and EJ, I walk over toward my brother, who’s talking with Adam. “What’s wrong?” is the first thing Maddox says, reading my expression.
“You invited Bret?”
“What? Hell no. I haven’t even seen him.”
“Well, he’s here, and he’s drinking.”
“I’m gonna—”
“No.” I put a hand to his chest. “Please, just let it go.”
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” he tells me. “I won’t bring up the studio stuff anymore. It’s just … you know how bad I want this.”
Turning to face him, I catch sight of Maddox as I do. His death ray vision is locked on Bret, so I’m hoping I can get this conversation over with fast. The bass-filled music flows around us, along with everyone laughing and talking in the club. The lights still flash around us, but it feels nothing like a club. It feels like the loud thumping of dramatic music during a suspenseful movie scene. Like the tuba playing the theme for Jaws. Danger creeping up slowly.
“I know, Bret. And I’ll do what I can to help, but I can’t do everything for you.”
“I’m not asking you to do everything. A little support from my girlfriend would be nice, though.”
My eyes widen in surprise, and my cheeks heat in anger. “A little support? You have to be kidding me. Bret, all I do is support you.”
“Hey, why don’t you just get the hell out of here?” Maddox speaks up, walking over to us. Glancing behind him, I see Adam following, while the music and lights keep everyone else distracted. “No one wants you here, Bret.”
“Screw you!” Bret yells at him.
Before Maddox can do anything, Adam grabs him by the shoulders. “Chill, man. He’s not worth it.”
“Why don’t you shut up, Hollywood douche?” Bret calls to Adam. “No one’s talking to you.”
“It’s his party, dipshit,” Maddox screams. Getting in front of Bret, he pushes him. “You need to leave now before I knock you on your ass.”
“Maddox!” I yell at him.
Both he and Bret ignore me, as Bret shoves him back. “Get the hell out of my face!”
“Hey, hey!” EJ calls out, running over. He wraps his arms around Bret. “Bret, knock it off, man.”
“Get off of me, nice boy! This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
“Bret, stop!” I scream at him, but he doesn’t listen.
Wrestling to get free from EJ, he does and swings wildly at him, hitting him across the face.
“You piece of shit!” Maddox screams, breaking free from Adam’s hold, and tackles Bret to the ground.
The next thing I know, Bret’s friend and guitar player, Mitch, jumps onto the pile, and it’s a wild brawl. Everyone backs away from the fight, as Adam and a few others try to pull apart my brother, EJ, Bret, and Mitch.
I’m so sick of this. Of Bret complaining and trying to work the angles. Of the back-and-forth between him and my brother. Of this entire war that seems to be brewing underneath the surface between my band and his.
Hurrying away, I don’t even try to break them up. I squeeze between bodies, dodging back into the elevator, frantically pressing the button to close the doors and get out of the building. While I wait in the elevator, two strangers stand silently, and the emotion starts to build up.
The elevator chimes, and I keep my head low, almost running through the lobby. I came with EJ, so I have no idea what I’m going to do, but I need to get out of this place. Unfortunately, I completely forgot about the paparazzi lingering on the outside, waiting for celebrities to show up and leave.
“Over here! Jade, right here!”
“Just leave me alone!” I yell, trying to hide my face with my hands. The embarrassment and aggravation continue to mount.
“Jade! Jade, over here!”
“Stop!” I call out again.
“Jade, here! Look right here!”
I spin around, trying to find the valet desk, but the flashes and the screaming disorient me. I want to turn invisible and get out of this entire situation. I throw my hand up, blocking out the flashes, wishing this would be over. “Leave me alone!”
I hear someone yell out, and for a minute, I’m scared that one of the photographers might be trying to get too aggressive when I feel a motion around me.
“Hey!”
I still don’t take a chance to see what’s happening, though, continuing to try and peer through the flashing lights for someone for valet. Unable to find them anywhere, I’m surprised to see Austin appear next to me. “Hey, you okay?”
“Austin.” I can’t help it. I feel lost and mad and confused. I throw my arms around him, wishing I could be out of this mess right now. “Please, get me out of here.”
“Come on,” he whispers, taking my hand.
I don’t know where he’s taking me, and I don’t care. As we run down the boardwalk, I still hear the photographers calling out for me. Getting to a parking garage, there’s a black Range Rover. I hear it chirp, and the doors unlock. Austin opens the passenger door, helping me inside, and then shuts the door. I watch as he hurries around the front, getting in on the driver’s side and starting the vehicle.
“You okay?” he asks, but I continue to hide my face. I can hear the shouting outside still. “Hey?” He reaches over, putting his arm over my shoulders. It’s enough to finally break through. “Are you all right?”
I nod. Barely. “I just need to get out of here.”
“Where to?”
“Anywhere. Anywhere I can hide.”
Biting his lip, he nods and backs the car up. I don’t know where we’re going, and as we take off down the freeway, the car’s quiet. I glance over at him, and he keeps his eyes on the road. I’m not sure why he was there, I’m just glad he was.
Staring at the dashboard, the events begin to unfold again. Maddox and Bret shouting. EJ getting in the mix, and then all of them fighting. I know Maddox plays his part in all of this, but I don’t know how much more I can put up with Bret. He doesn’t even try to keep the peace. Maddox pushes his buttons, but neither of them seems to care about keeping things calm. And Bret never backs down. It’s all confusing and aggravating.
“We’re here,” Austin says, pulling into a parking space.
Lifting my eyes, I realize we’re in a parking lot that sits in front of what looks like an apartment complex.
He turns to face me with a sheepish smile. “I had no idea where to go, so … I figured I’ll show you my Legos.”
His idea, comment, and the cute smile he has while telling me forces me to giggle. “That’s perfect.”
16
Austin
Escorting Jade up to the second-story apartment I live in with Shawn feels weird. I literally had no idea what to do when she told me to get her away from the crowd of photographers, so I drove to the first place I could think of. It’s close enough to the city that it doesn’t take long to get to work or school, but far enough that I don’t have to deal with the crowds or traffic.
“Here we are,” I say, opening the door. “Casa de Austin.”
Giving me a small smile, she glances around the apartment while I close the door. She runs her hands over her arms, and I realize I’m in my jeans, T-shirt, and a hooded sweatshirt. Undoing the sweater, I quickly drop it over her shoulders. “Here.”
“Oh … thanks.”
“No problem.” We both exchange looks, and I watch her nervously bite her lip. “Um, did you want something to drink? I know you don’t drink alcohol, but I can get you bottled water. I think we’ve got some juice, too.”
“No, I’m good. Thanks.”
She continues to stand in front of the door, looking around. “Make yourself at home.” I wave toward the couch. “I’ll be right back.”
Quickly heading into the kitchen, I open the fridge and stare aimlessly into it. I have no idea what the protocol is for this kind of situation. I don’t know when she wants to leave, what to talk about, or how to even act. She looks like she’s calmed down, but she seemed pretty freaked out outside of the club. Pulling out two bottles of water, I grab a bag of chips and head back into the living room to find her sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone.
Taking a seat next to her, I put the bag of chips and water bottles on the coffee table in front of us.
“Just in case,” I tell her.
She smiles for a second, then looks back at her phone, shaking her head. “They’ve already got pictures up of me outside of the club. It doesn’t look like they posted any of you.” Turning the phone off, she sets it on the table, facedown. “Thanks again, Austin.”
“Don’t mention it. So …” I nervously pick at my jeans, unsure if I should ask or if she wants to talk about it. I take a chance. “What happened back there?”
Rolling her eyes, she lifts her legs up on the couch. “Just my brother and my boyfriend, being monumental boneheads again.”
There’s not much I can say to that.
“I love my brother, I do. But he can get on my last nerve sometimes with this whole thing he has with Bret.”
My eyes widen, hearing the name. Is that punk band guy her boyfriend?
“And then, Bret just keeps pushing and pushing me on things. I can’t stand it. If he wants a record deal so bad, he shouldn’t be going to parties and getting drunk with his band. He should be finding gigs and getting any spot he can. But no, he just waits for me to try and hook him up with spots. I swear, sometimes I feel like he wouldn’t even be with me if I wasn’t in the Kings.”
I cringe, letting out a sigh, unsure what to say. “That sucks.”
Her face crumbles with a sad smile. “I’m sorry. I totally shouldn’t be venting to you.”
“No, it’s okay. Believe me, I know what it’s like to have people want things from you.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “Really?”
My eyes bounce around the apartment, remembering she has no idea who my father is. After the night she’s had, I definitely can’t let out that bombshell right now. “Yeah,” I eek out, trying to think of a good reply. “I just mean working at Rich Records, I have friends and what not who want access to the stars. Or tickets to concerts. Stuff like that.”
