by RH Tucker
King of Bad
A Kings of Karmichael Novel
RH Tucker
Copyright © 2020 by RH Tucker
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by Melissa Ringsted of There For You Editing.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Long live the Kings
About the Author
Also by RH Tucker
King of Bad
1
Maddox
Lights flash around my stage. I block them out as the bass pulses through the room. It’s a mixture of people talking and laughing, cheers in the background as others toast, and the music I’m playing blasting through the speakers of the club.
Two nights ago, one of my best friends, Adam Coleman, came to the grand opening of Luxe along with the rest of my friends and band. It’s a brand-new club in Malibu that sits atop the Mavin International Resort and Hotel, overlooking the city and beach. I’m the DJ in one of the most prestigious, upscale hotel companies around the world. Mavin International is test marketing this as a new piece of their business. Luxe is the first of what they hope to be several nightclubs sitting atop their buildings, and I’m their resident DJ for the next three months.
Twelve weeks of bass pounding beats, girls, partying with Adam—one of the hottest actors in Hollywood—girls, and living the luxurious life of a rock star. Oh, did I mention girls?
I love my life.
Jenny walks behind me, her hand running across my shoulders. Glancing over at her, she smiles, and I lift the headphone off my ear. “What’s up?”
“I have to take off early. Gotta catch a red-eye flight for my agency.” Stepping closer, she lifts her lips to my ear. “I’ll be back next weekend, though. Can we hang out?”
“I’ll have to check my schedule,” I half joke.
She picks up on it. “Maddox, you know I’m so much more fun than any of those others.”
Chuckling, I wrap an arm around her waist. “I don’t know. You might have to remind me when you get back.”
She laughs, pulling away a touch, but stays close enough to keep her arm around my neck. “I’ll be sure to do just that, King of Bad.”
I watch as she walks through the crowd. Jenny and I have an on-again, off-again relationship. We’re on when we’re together, and we’re off when we’re not. I know she has a crazy schedule, and even though I’m not touring right now, she knows I … like to have fun. Okay, maybe relationship is too strong of a word for what we have. Let’s call it a mutual understanding.
“Very not bad,” Derrik jokes behind me, catching me off guard.
“Hey.” I turn around and give him a hug. “You know how I roll.”
“Oh, I know. Singer or actress?”
“Model.”
“Of course.” He laughs, stepping closer and examining my DJ stand. “The first weekend’s almost in the books, man. How’s it feel?”
“Awesome.” I smile wildly, then take a drink from my cup. Before I do, I lift it toward him, giving him a salute of the red Solo cup. “You didn’t have to come all three nights.”
“I know.” He nods, then looks around the club. We’re about an hour from closing down, but there are still people partying, drinking, and dancing. All with my music pulsing through the high-end dance club. Turning back to me, he offers another grin. “I’m proud of you.”
I scoff with a smirk. “Okay, don’t go getting all sappy on me.”
“I’m serious. You’re like a second brother, Maddox. And I know how bad you wanted this gig. I’m stoked you got it, and even more so at how great this opening weekend went for you.”
His warm words finally crack the King of Bad exterior I try to always keep in place. It’s a nickname I’ve grown to love, for more reasons than one. Sure, it’s a cool reputation to have as the band’s bad boy, but it works wonders with the chicks. It’s not that I have a reason to hide real feelings or softer moments in my life. But now that I’ve embraced my new persona for the last couple of years, I save the real Maddox for the people that mean something to me. And Derrik, Jade, and EJ are on that small list.
“Thanks,” I reply, giving him a smile.
“Bro! Bro!” Adam hurries over, with two girls under his arms; one blonde and one redhead. “Tammy? Heidi?” He looks over at them. “I think you know the King of Bad.”
Derrik chuckles to himself, turning away, but giving me one last nod before he does.
Adam raises his eyebrows, a huge grin spreading across his face. “Tammy was just in Caleb Dexter’s indie flick …” He looks around the club, searching for the film’s name. “Home … House …”
“Home for All Time,” she corrects him.
Heidi breaks away from under his arm, grabbing mine. She’s the redhead. She’s cute, with a short, pink mini dress that clings to her tightly. It’s strapless and reveals enough cleavage that tells me she wants people to notice. I’ve seen it enough times to know the difference between people merely dressing up or being attention seekers, both male and female.
Still, she’s hot.
“I just had a three-episode role in the police drama Deep Blue,” Heidi says.
“Lucky them,” I reply.
“We’re gonna head back to our place,” Adam says, the tone in his words letting me know the party will continue later on tonight. “Meet you back there?”
“Yeah, for sure.” Grinning, I nod.
Adam Coleman is a movie star. He’s starred in some big-budget movies, and one night he was throwing a party, looking for someone to DJ it. A couple people in the business that we mutually know threw out my name, so he called and asked if I wanted the gig. The rest, as they say, is history.
He’s become as close to me as my band. Most likely because we’re on the same wavelength. He’s a few years older than me, but he’s all about the party. I was instantly drawn to the guy. And it helps that he always—always—has women flocking to him. I think his manager has a list of current and potential stars to keep around him, and I’m not joking about that.
At first, I thought it was a little weird because Peter, our manager, would never in a million years do that for me. But after the second weekend seeing the kind of hotties Adam rolls with … Yeah. It’s amazing. If I don’t already have
a girl lined up for the weekend, I know I can rely on Adam to help me out in that area.
Okay, okay, that sounded really bad. Look, I don’t mean to sound so misogynistic, but you can’t blame me. I’m going on nineteen, and I’m in the Kings of Karmichael. The hottest band in the world. I’m a King. You tell me another guy my age who isn’t going to take advantage of parties, drinks readily available, and girls throwing themselves at him. EJ doesn’t count.
I’m the King of Bad, and hell yeah, I love my life.
2
Cece
Air horns sound; four high-powered steam machines blast off around the stage, and everyone on the dance floor cheers. Maddox Barkley calls out to them, and they let out another yell, then resume grinding their bodies against one another while he plays the beats. It’s here. It’s finally here.
“Amazing,” Stephanie tells me. She’s settled down since the grand opening of the club two days ago. She’s not as jittery even though she’s jumped up and down a couple of times tonight. “You did it, Cece. You actually did it!”
“I know, right?” I reply, unable to stop myself from letting out a proud and incredulous giggle.
This entire thing has been a dream of mine since I was sixteen.
It’s the end of the weekend, and I know the club is opening back up on Wednesday night for the weeknight shows, but the weekends are where it’s at. I’m bringing in a DJ known around the Los Angeles area for the Wednesday and Thursday shows, but Fridays thru Sundays are the nights for one of the biggest rock stars in the world. Not only that, he’s arguably the hottest member. Maddox Barkley was an integral piece of opening Luxe. I want it to be not only the most celebrated nightclub in California but around the country. And I will make that happen, no matter what the media says about me.
Yes, newspapers and gossip magazines lead with condescending titles and flat-out lies. The most recent one went something like, “Will Baby Mavin Ruin Mavin International?”
Look, I get it. My father is an international billionaire, and I’m Daddy’s little girl. When Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie were at the height of their fame, they were starring in reality TV shows and making music videos. They weren’t taking over parts of their father’s empire at eighteen.
So, yes, I understand some of the hate I receive. But it’s not like my father just handed me something I’m not ready for. I’ve been partying since I was thirteen. Being the daughter of Chester Mavin, I was born a socialite. What I’m not given, I can buy.
Wow, okay. When I put it that way, I do sound like a spoiled brat. I don’t mean to, and I’m doing my best to prove to everyone that I’m not. I’ve dreamed of opening Luxe for two years, and it’s finally happened.
Like I said, I’ve been partying and having fun for years. Most of the time with my best friend, Stephanie. When I encouraged her to start her own YouTube show, she did, and we’ve been two of the most popular stars—if that’s what you want to call us—in Southern California.
Being that as it is, I’ve been to every club there is. While some are fun, there was always something missing. Some are smaller, and those are great. A nice place to relax with music playing in the background. Some try to go all out with sparkling lights and champagne service. But inevitably, someone gets drunk or a fight breaks out, ruining the night.
What I’ve been wanting and never saw was an upscale place. Not simply fancy but luxurious. A nightclub where the stars can come and hang out without getting mangled by fans or stalked by paparazzi. I can’t tell you how many times the paparazzi have turned fun nights into fiascos by trying to get pictures of the latest Hollywood starlet or Grammy Award winner.
That’s when it hit me. A high-end place. Most places charge a cover, some more expensive than others. That’s where I started. Our cover charge was you had to be in the know, no money would get you in. Someone in the business had to get you on the list. Bottle service is available, and there are lined private booths for everyone. It’s exclusive. Regardless, I knew for it to be a success, I needed one of the hottest acts or DJs in the business.
We sent out feelers, and several stars got back to us, but when I saw Maddox Barkley’s name on the list, I knew we had to have him. The Kings of Karmichael is the hottest band on the planet, and Maddox Barkley is known to frequent clubs as a DJ.
All of that said, approving the design and look of the Luxe, getting Maddox as our resident DJ, and even pulling off this grand opening weekend has been the easy part. Being a spectacle and trying to get the world to take notice right off the bat is easy compared to actually running this place. But I’m ready for it. Like I said, I’ve wanted to do this for years.
“Look at him.” Stephanie bumps my arm, staring down through the glass window. The club is two stories, and we sit in a small room that looks out over everything, with reflective glass so we can see out, but no one on the outside can look in. “Is that the same girl who was around him last night?”
I examine the stage area and see a girl run her hand over Maddox’s shoulders, walking behind him. He leans over, saying something to her, and she smiles. “No, I think it was a girl with short, black hair.”
“King of Bad, right?” She giggles. “Has he talked to you?”
I shake my head. “No. Leslie is the talent contact. She deals with anything he needs.”
“I bet she does.”
Rolling my eyes, I let out a laugh. “For business. All of his stage lighting and anything else he needs for his setup. DJ B-More, too. I guess he’s anxious to play on Wednesday and Thursday, so that’s a good sign.”
“He was a good pickup, girl. I heard he sold out a set he had at The Roxy and Welters. People are talking about him.”
“Yeah, I’m thrilled we signed him.” Nodding, I head back to my small desk in the office. After grabbing my drink, I take a sip and lean against the desk. “I can’t believe it. It’s finally here. Now the real work starts.”
“Have you talked to your dad yet?”
I shake my head. “I wanted to wait until the weekend was over. Present all of the good publicity we got on it and the tills. We sold out of our bottle service last night, so I know this weekend was a success if only because of that. Hopefully, that’ll get some better headlines for me, too.”
“Cece, you’re amazing. Don’t listen to those people in Business Weekly and all that other junk. Who cares if you’re only eighteen? You’ve watched your father build Mavin International into the billion-dollar empire it is today your entire life. You’ve not only seen but assisted your mom in closing multimillion-dollar real estate deals around the world. You know the business. You are the business. You’re a Mavin. You can do this.”
I try to hear her words and block out all of the gossip headlines, or even legitimate newspaper headlines. The ones that have always referred to me as Daddy’s Girl, Little Miss Mavin, The Princess of L.A., and my personal favorite—note the sarcasm—Baby Mavin.
Of course, I didn’t do myself any favors by being exactly what they say I am in the past. Partying with celebrities twice my age but indulging in almost everything they were. Making my own headlines in gossip magazines for partying until five in the morning, crashing Coachella with Stephanie, where we walked on stage during one of Lady Gaga’s performances. Maybe the one I feel worst of all over is getting arrested for trying to shoplift a Louis Vuitton purse.
As bad as all of that sounds, and I know it is, I’m not a bad person. I promise! Stephanie’s been by my side through it all. And I know this is going to sound like an excuse, but I did it for her YouTube show. Life with Stephanie now has over two million subscribers, and I thought it’d be funny. I know, stupid of me to think that, but I was growing up. I will never blame Stephanie because she didn’t encourage me to do it. None of it was her idea. When she started filming things for her show, I was always the one to bring it up.
“Oh my God, I’m doing these five fireball shots. Film it!”
“Oh my God, let’s crash Gaga’s set!”
&n
bsp; “Oh my God, record this. I’m gonna walk out of here with this purse.”
“No!” She grilled me at the time through a clenched jaw.
“Just film it!”
We didn’t get more than five feet out of the store before we were both stopped. Of course, paparazzi were everywhere. I was sixteen.
As much as I hate the headlines about me, I’m the cause of them all. I know that. And I know Stephanie’s show could’ve easily been called, “Watch a Socialite Spiral into a Drunken Teen Catastrophe,” but it’s not. She’s done okay for herself, talking about pop culture, celebrities, and whatever other fun stuff she likes.
Most importantly, at least to me, is that she stuck by my side through all of my immaturity. She’s my best friend, and I can’t think of not having her in my life.
After the purse incident, my parents told me if I don’t straighten out, they were going to send me away to boarding school. That scared me straight. I still like to have fun, but I like to think I’m not immature anymore. Especially when the idea for an upscale club that catered to celebrities hit me. It’s what I’ve wanted to create and run.
My father thought it was ridiculous, but I was determined. I paid more attention to him and the deals he made. I volunteered to help my mom with all of her paperwork, and asked my father if I could sit in on meetings he was having with Mavin International supervisors. I knew about dance clubs, but business is another thing. I wanted to do this, and I didn’t want to wait for years and years going through business school and getting MBAs and everything else.
