“You all right?” Chaser asks, lifting his chin at the cup in Jacob’s hand.
Jacob curls the cup closer to his chest. “It’s tea.”
“I didn’t ask.”
After some back and forth, Jacob climbs on top of the desk next to me. He sits cross-legged and sets a notepad on his lap.
Chaser and Alvin launch into the now familiar riff of “Queen of the Road,” playing it a few times before Garrett joins them.
Jacob watches, swaying side to side for a few minutes, before closing his eyes and opening his mouth.
“There she is.”
“Queen of the Road.”
“Two wheels of fire.”
“Leading me home.”
Jacob stops and takes a quick sip of tea.
“Tell me to stay!” Alvin shouts.
“If you think I belong!” Garrett adds.
“Good,” Jacob mutters, quickly scribbling down the lines in his notebook.
Over his shoulder, I notice him marking an A next to the line Alvin contributed and a G next to Garrett’s. For some reason, I find that funny.
“Ahead there’s a storm,” Chaser sings.
The guys keep playing, but no one belts out another line.
A few words pop into my head, and I blurt them out before thinking it through. “I need your fire to keep me warm.”
“Nice!” Alvin yells.
Jacob slants a look my way.
Guess I was supposed to keep quiet. But then he scribbles down the two lines, marking Chaser’s with a “C” and mine with an “M.”
“I like that,” he mutters.
Chaser winks and blows me a kiss. He closes his eyes and begins a beautiful solo using the slide again.
The guys work steadily, without stopping for a couple of hours. Everything magically seems to come together. Every note and word perfect, until Jacob’s last, final haunting line.
“Queen of the road, take me home.”
Excitement propels me out of my spot. Jumping and clapping. “That was beautiful! Perfect!”
“Not perfect.” Jacob scribbles down a few notes without looking at us. “But it’s getting there.”
Chaser sweeps me into his arms, spinning us in a half circle. “Knew you’d bring us luck,” he whispers.
“I’m sorry I interrupted,” I whisper back. “I got caught up in the—”
He silences me with a quick kiss. “Don’t apologize. I love that you jumped in. It’s a good line too. It worked.” He sets me down. “I always wanted to write something with you one day.”
“With me? Why?”
“You’re clever and put words together in an interesting way.”
That can’t be true. I sure can’t put any words together at the moment.
“Whoa, when’d you buy the Starburst? How?” Jacob asks almost knocking me out of the way to ogle Chaser’s guitar.
“Mallory gave it to me,” Chaser says. “You just noticed it now?”
Jacob jerks his chin my way. “Who’d you blow to get the money for that?”
I don’t have a chance to respond. Chaser slaps his palm against Jacob’s chest hard, shoving him back a few feet. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“I’m just saying, if Mallory’s got that kind of money—”
“It’s none of your business.” Chaser thumps Jacob’s chest once more to emphasize his warning.
“Jesus, calm down.”
“That was sweet, Mallory,” Garrett says, inspecting the instrument. “He’s had his eye on it forever.”
I shrug, uncomfortable having them questioning the personal gift. Somehow in my excitement to buy it for Chaser, I never considered it would pique the guys’ curiosity.
“We still have a lot more work to get through,” Alvin reminds everyone. “We need to interview some of those producers Val lined up for us in case Cutter doesn’t pan out.”
“I don’t want to work with anyone but Mark Cutter.” Jacob thrusts his chin in the air and crosses his arms over his chest. Clearly as far as he’s concerned, this isn’t open for discussion.
“Well, I suggest you get your shit together, and act like a professional, so he wants to work with us,” Chaser says.
“Maybe Andrew can put in a word?” Alvin suggests. “Vandals haven’t worked with anyone else since Serves You Right. He must be tight with Cutter.”
I touch Chaser’s shoulder. “I might run into Pamela tomorrow. Do you want me to suggest we all get together or something?”
“You want to suggest something to Pamela Scott, suggest she call me.” Jacob puts his hand up to his ear. “Massive cock or not, with the amount of coke Andrew does, I doubt he can raise that log for long.”
“Andrew said to call him if we needed anything.” Chaser runs his hand over the back of his neck, ignoring Jacob. “I don’t know how serious he was, though. Fuck, I wonder if he even remembers what happened the other night?”
“Not bloody likely,” Garrett scoffs.
The band’s time is up, so we head back to the apartment.
“What are you going to do if you can’t get this producer?” I ask when Alvin, Chaser, and I are alone in the car.
“Val has some talented people lined up,” Alvin says. “Jacob may need to readjust that attitude of his.”
“Cutter hasn’t said no, yet,” Chaser adds.
Alvin quirks an eyebrow. “Refusing to return our manager’s calls might be as good as a no.”
I want to tell them to not give up so quickly, but there’s a strong possibility Alvin’s right.
We trudge upstairs to our apartment and open the door as our answering machine clicks on, and the caller starts to leave their message.
I recognize the obnoxious, overgrown, teenager’s enthusiastic voice immediately.
Chaser and I both stop and stare at each other. Talk about uncanny timing.
“Call me back, fucker! I have a proposition for you. It’s going to be totally rad!”
Chapter Sixteen
Chaser
Favors always come with strings attached. Something I learned a long time ago. My father’s not a fan of owing anyone anything and that’s been the example I followed for most of my life.
Andrew asked me if I’d help him write a song for his band’s new album.
Once I recovered from the shock, I couldn’t say yes fast enough. Figured it would be good exposure for me, and this way, Andrew would owe me a favor. Something simple, like say, introducing me to Mark Cutter and maybe convincing the guy to produce Kickstart’s next album.
I should’ve considered the consequences of this plan more thoroughly.
Andrew’s a fucking nutjob.
I grew up around some questionable bikers and lord knows the band and I have our ups and downs.
But Andrew? This dude is all up and no down.
No off button or filter either.
I don’t know if he’s always been this way or if it’s the massive amounts of coke he’s constantly shoveling up his nose, but working with him is like trying to wrangle a squirrel on angel dust.
“Here! Here! Try this with the bridge.” Andrew plays a succession of notes on the piano.
I listen carefully, pick it up and follow along.
As nuts as he is, he’s more talented than I realized. Sure, he’s a fantastic drummer in a successful rock band. But it turns out, that doesn’t scratch the surface. Over the last few days, I’ve discovered he can pick up and play any instrument with ease.
He also has the most voracious appetite for cocaine of any human being I’ve ever met. And he never stops talking. About any and every topic that pops into his overworked brain, but especially sex.
“Is Mallory a firecracker in bed? I bet she’s a firecracker. She has that prim, proper vibe but—”
I hold up a hand to stop him. “Mallory is off-limits. Can we go back to this?” I tap my pencil on the papers scattered over the table in front of us.
“Yeah.” He works for about ten seconds straight
before opening his mouth again. “So, like, you don’t fuck girls when you’re out on the road?”
“I’ve already done plenty of that.” I don’t bother adding that it got old a long time ago and that the thought of being with anyone but Mallory makes my skin crawl. Those aren’t sentiments Andrew can wrap his mind around.
“Dammmn, dude. Mallory must be awe-some.”
“What did I say about her?” Boundaries. Someone obviously needs to set some with this fucker.
“Right.” He holds up one hand like he’s swearing a boy scout oath. “Off-limits. But, dude, you’re what, like twenty-two? Are you out of your mind? I was knee-deep in as much pussy as possible at your age.” He smirks. “Still am.”
“Good for you.”
He claps his hand on my shoulder and attempts a serious expression. “Listen, I feel it’s my mission, from like, Satan, to guide you in matters of the flesh, son.”
I shrug him off. “I already have a father. Actually, you sound a lot like him.”
“He must be cool as fuck.”
“That he is.” I snicker to myself, picturing my father spending more than two seconds in Andrew’s company. He’d probably shoot him. “He’s also alone.”
“So, you’re scared to be alone? Dude, I’m never alone. I can call—”
“I’m not scared to be alone, you dick.” How do you explain such a difficult concept to a man who apparently has the brainpower of a two-year old?
“I love you, man.” He squeezes his eyes shut and grins like an idiot. “No one else has the balls to call me a dick to my face. Even when I’m being a total asshole.”
“Happens often, huh?”
“See?” He cracks up and slaps my shoulder again. “Okay, give me that riff again.”
Thank fuck.
The band is counting on me to get Andrew to talk Mark Cutter into producing our next album. It’s the only reason I’ve been able to tolerate these insane collaboration sessions without killing Andrew. Although, I’m starting to have my doubts about this plan.
He claims he works best at night, which means I’m up into the wee hours working with him in the soundproof studio he has in his basement.
“Dude, I wish you guys lived closer. We could be at this all the time.”
I shudder at the thought. “It’ll be a while before we can afford a house in your neighborhood.”
“I feel ya. It happened fast for us, but at the time, it seemed so slow. We lived in all these downright gnarly places in the beginning.” He pulls a pouty face and glances around his living room. “Soon as we all had cash, we got our big, expensive houses and never saw each other anymore.”
Can’t imagine why.
“I mean Vinnie and I hang all the time. Kyle and Boner, I never see those dudes unless we’re in the studio or on the road.”
Jesus, is he going to cry on me? That might be worse than the night I spent listening to him explain in excruciating detail every single position he’s ever fucked his girlfriend.
“Just, like, hang onto these early moments. You’re all young and hungry now. Living in the gutter. Everything’s exciting. Soon, Kickstart’s gonna explode. I feel it in my bones.”
Fuck, he makes it hard to hate him when he’s always complimenting the band and offering advice or help. “Thanks.”
“But, you’ll wake up and miss how it used to be. Trust and believe, brother.”
Suuuuure.
“Appreciate you saying that, Andrew.”
“Mallory seems cool too. Like, she never gets pissed when you’re jamming late and stuff?”
“No,” I answer carefully, in case he thinks I’m giving him the green light to dig for more information. That I refuse to share intimate details about Mallory continues to vex him.
“You don’t care if she lands a part where she has to kiss some dude?”
Well, fuck me. I honestly never thought about that. Not that I don’t think Mallory’s talented and will probably find success before I do, but shit. After Jacob made out with her in the “Candy Jar” video, how did that never occur to me?
“Guess it depends on the role. I trust her judgment.”
“Aw, dude. What if she, like, has to fuck some director to get a part or something?”
“That she wouldn’t do. And I already beat the fuck out of the last couple of pervs who tried.”
“Whoa.” His eyes bug out. “Really? That’s hardcore.”
“No, it’s what needed to be done.” Surprised Andrew hadn’t heard about the Revolver situation since I’m learning the music business runs in incestuous circles with the latest gossip everyone’s favorite topic.
“Pammy would totally fuck for a part.” He scratches his head. “I’m pretty sure she blew the guy for the lifeguard gig. Like, it’s business, though, so it’s cool.”
“You think it’s ‘cool’ and ‘just business’ to let some asshole degrade the woman you supposedly care about? That’s fucked up.”
“Sex is currency.” He shrugs. “She doesn’t give me shit about what happens on the road.”
Not really comfortable being placed in this strange lecturing role I seem to find myself in, I shake my head. “Whatever works for you two.”
“You’d really be mad if Mallory…” He waves his hand instead of continuing the question.
“I don’t have to worry about it, because that’s not the way she wants to succeed.”
“Bro, I think you’re in for a heartbreak. Every woman is the same.” He slaps my arm. “How’d you two meet, anyway?”
“On our video for ‘Candy Jar.’”
He closes his eyes and bounces up and down, rocking the piano bench from side to side. “Oh fuck! She was so hot in that tiny wet tank top!”
I grit my teeth.
“That song’s awesome by the way.”
Situation avoided. For a second, I thought I was going to have to punch him after all. “Thanks.”
“I mean it’s totally cheese-anthem-pop-metal that I bet the suits made you write because it had commercial appeal, but you guys fucking rocked it.”
Not at all insulted by his honest interpretation, I bust out laughing. “Nailed it. And thanks.”
A few hours later, Andrew’s used up every ounce of my goodwill. I’m exhausted and dying to crawl into bed. Hell, I’d crawl in the gutter right now, as long as Andrew’s not there.
“You’re falling asleep on me!” he shouts in my face.
I blink and stare at him.
He pushes a mirror with three small precision-cut lines of coke on it under my nose. “This’ll help.”
“I’m good.”
“Bro, come on. We still have a few hours.”
A few more hours of this?
Well-aware of all the ingredients suppliers sometimes add to stretch their product, I stare at the powder. “What’s it cut with?”
“It’s pure. I swear.”
It’s not like I haven’t experimented in the past. On long runs in my prospecting days, a few lines made all the difference between getting there on time and getting an ass-kicking.
It wasn’t a big deal then and it won’t be now.
“That’s my boy!” Andrew slaps my shoulder as I snort the first line.
Fuck, that’s unpleasant. Wherever he obtained this batch, it’s a speedy, lightning bolt to the brain.
Fired up and flying high, we’re back to work in no time. Unfortunately, coke messes with my rhythm, and I can’t seem to play a note. Embarrassing and inconvenient but Andrew doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, we lob ideas back and forth for the next few hours.
For now, he may have sucked me into his ocean of crazy, but I’m thoroughly confident I won’t drown in the undertow.
Chapter Seventeen
Mallory
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I ask Chaser one last time, as we head up Audrey’s front sidewalk.
He closes his red-rimmed eyes and tips his head back to soak up the last rays of sunshine. “It’s good to
be out. I could use a quiet night for once.”
“You and Andrew have been working hard.”
Chaser grunts in response.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have more rehearsal time?”
“Yes.” His patience seems thin, and the evening hasn’t even started.
The hurt on my face must be evident because he stops and brushes his knuckles against my cheek. “All I’ve been doing is worrying about the Shooting Fences gigs. A night off with non-musicians is a welcome relief.”
I lean up and kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Nice place.” He scans the quiet, narrow street. “I get so turned around in the Hills, but I think Andrew’s house is a few streets above here.”
“Yikes.” I pull a wide-eyed silly face. “He’s not going to pop out of the bushes in his leather thong, is he?” I duck down, pretending to search under the ornamental shrubs decorating the walkway.
He actually chuckles. “Why else do you think I pulled my bike up to the garage, where it can’t be seen from the road?”
“Good thinking.”
“Come here.” He curls his arm around my shoulders and pulls me in close. “I’m sorry I’ve been a moody prick lately.”
“I know you’re stressed. I only want to help.”
“You already do. More than you know.” He leans down to brush his lips against mine.
“I have a guest room if you’d rather not go at it on my sidewalk,” Audrey calls out, putting an end to our make-out session.
“We’re coming.” I pull the bottle of wine out of my purse. “We have gifts too.”
“Hey.” Audrey hugs me when I reach her. “Long time, girl.”
“Things have been nuts.” It’s still no excuse for not visiting Audrey.
“Hey, Chaser.” After accepting a quick hug from him, she takes a few steps back and reaches for the older distinguished gentleman at her side. “This is my…this is Doug.”
“Hi, I’ve heard such nice things about you,” I gush, shaking his hand.
“Same.” He shines a genuine, warm smile at Chaser and me.
“Nice to meet you.” Chaser shakes his hand quickly.
Blow My Fuse (Hollywood Demons Book 2) Page 9
