Blow My Fuse (Hollywood Demons Book 2)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “Nah,” Alvin chimes in. “Sounded more like, ‘I’ve never given a woman an orgasm.’”

  “Fuck both of ya!” Andrew throws his arms open wide, accidentally flinging his marshmallows to the side. “Bring me a woman right now. Any woman. I’ll strum her clitty to orgasm in five seconds flat.”

  Jacob points his bottle at Andrew. “Is Pammy a screamer? I feel like she’s a screamer.”

  Andrew scratches his chin, settling in for what I’m sure will be a lengthy story about Pamela’s octave range.

  Before he opens his mouth, I remind Jacob, “You were supposed to keep the partying to a minimum this weekend.”

  “Chill the fuck out, Chaser,” Garrett slurs. “You’re not the boss of us.”

  Since he’s regressed to the same arguments an eight-year-old would use, it’s a safe bet Garrett’s already killed a bottle on his own.

  “Every rock star knows true binge-drinking is an artform.” Jacob flaps his arms in the air, leaning too close to the edge of the building for my comfort. “And I am motherfucking Michelangelo!”

  “Preach, brotha!” Andrew reaches up to high-five Jacob, sending him teetering closer to the edge.

  This is fucking ridiculous. I elbow Andrew out of the way.

  “That’s great.” I loop my arm around Jacob’s waist and drag him off the ledge. “Let’s go downstairs. The hotel’s ready to throw us out.”

  “No!” Jacob protests. “We’re having fun.”

  “I think you’ve had enough fun.”

  “I won’t let them throw you out, Chaser,” Andrew pleads. “Don’t go.”

  “Bro, we have two more shows to get through,” I remind him.

  Jacob tips his bottle back, drains the contents, and tosses it against the brick wall, where it shatters. “Need to find another one.”

  “I bet Robbie has a fresh bottle waiting for you in your room.”

  He stares at me with glassy eyes then scowls past me at Robbie. “Nu-uh, Val told him to keep me away from booze.” Jacob’s mouth pulls into a goofy grin, and he points at Andrew. “But Andrew hooked us up!”

  Andrew pinches his fingers together. “He may have had a little bit of coke too.”

  “That’s great. Very helpful. Thanks, Andrew.”

  “We were celebrating your awesome show tonight.”

  “I got you covered, Jacob,” Robbie says. “Come on back downstairs.”

  Hopefully, Jacob passes out; otherwise, I’m prepared to knock him out.

  The next afternoon, Mallory and I are headed back to our room after finishing lunch with Audrey and Doug when Jacob finally makes an appearance.

  “Are you all right, Jacob?” Mallory asks.

  He peers at her over his sunglasses. “Where’s the coffee?”

  “We’ll have some sent up,” Mallory promises. “You don’t look too good.”

  “You’re looking foxy, Mallory.” He grins at her.

  “Still high, bro?” I ask.

  “Come on,” Mallory steers him into our room and goes over to the phone to order room service.

  “What the fuck, Jacob?” I look him up and down. “We have to be on stage in a couple of hours and you smell like warmed-over death.”

  “We might have to cancel.”

  I stand there and absorb the shock of his suggestion. We’ve never canceled a show. No matter how shitfaced we’ve been in the past, we always pulled ourselves together so that our shows never suffered.

  “Jacob, last night was one of our best and biggest performances, and you want to blow off tonight’s show?” He has to be out of his damn mind.

  “It fucking sucked and you know it,” he rasps.

  “What?”

  “Dude, I choked. I was awkward and could barely get any words out. I know you noticed.”

  “We were all a little nervous, Jacob. My first solo wasn’t great. But come on, think of the reaction we got for ‘Queen of the Road.’ How many times have we seen a band perform a new song just to have the crowd stand around and scratch their heads?”

  He flashes a hint of a smile. “That’s true.”

  I glance up, and Mallory flashes ten fingers at me, then points to the door.

  “Coffee’s on its way.”

  Jacob brushes his fingers against his throat. “I don’t know how much longer this can last.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He tilts his head, watching me from the corner of his eye. “I’m not like you. My daddy didn’t send me to professional lessons. I’ve been opening my mouth and screaming since the beginning.”

  Half-truth, but now isn’t the time to call him out. His parents sent him for lessons, then declared he wasn’t good enough and stopped paying for them. It’s how he learned the same vocal warm-ups he still uses today. “Use some of the money we’re making to take the lessons now.”

  “I can’t change my signature style. It’s gotten us this far.”

  “You can change if you think it will save your voice.” I bite the inside of my cheek, debating my next words. “The coke and alcohol don’t help.”

  “Give me a break. That’s got nothing to do with my voice.”

  How deep his denial runs.

  “Like fuck it doesn’t.” I gesture toward the door. “You ran up and down the hallway screaming at the top of your lungs last night. That can’t be good for your vocal cords.”

  He scratches the side of his head. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yeah. You did. I found you up on the roof. We had to drag you downstairs kicking and screaming. Robbie tied you to the bed, so you wouldn’t get loose again.”

  Instead of, oh, I don’t know, being fucking horrified, he doubles over laughing. “Oh, fuck. That’s some funny shit. I thought I hooked up with some kinky chick, but it was Robbie.”

  “It wasn’t funny at all, dude. The hotel was going to kick all of us out.”

  Jacob finally pulls himself together about an hour before we go on stage. And by pull together, I mean, has dropped the pity party and graduated to pissing me off.

  “Who’s the old dude? That Mallory’s dad?” Jacob lifts his chin in Audrey and Doug’s direction. “You trying to set him up with Audrey?”

  “Knock it off. That’s Audrey’s boyfriend. He’s a nice guy.” Square and out of place at a rock concert, sure. That doesn’t mean I want anyone to hassle him.

  “Her boyfriend? Does he know?” Jacob wiggles his eyebrows like a jackass.

  “I don’t know, so keep your mouth shut and don’t be a dick.”

  “Whatever.” He shrugs. “Good for her. It’s a lot more respectable to straight up fuck for money than fuck with a bunch of hidden expectations.” He aims a glare down the hallway. I follow his line of sight to Holly.

  “What’s wrong now?”

  “Nothing. I told her I didn’t want her to come tonight, yet she procured tickets and passes from somewhere.”

  I hold up my hands. “Wasn’t me.”

  “No, it was probably Jane. She keeps insisting Holly and I are made for each other.” He finishes that last part in a high-pitched voice and clasps his hands under his chin.

  “Aw, where is Janey?” I tease.

  “Stay away from my baby sister.”

  “But I haven’t seen her in forever.” I cast a lecherous look around the area just to piss him off. Legend has it, Jane had a crush on me when she was younger. I never encouraged her and stayed far the fuck away, but after the bullshit I put up with last night, I feel entitled to torment Jacob.

  He slaps my chest. “She thinks you and Mallory are a cute couple.”

  “I’m flattered.” I glance around again. “Seriously, though. Did she show up? Make sure Robbie looks out for her if she’s only here with Holly.”

  “Nah, I doubt my parents let her come.”

  “Let her? Isn’t she like nineteen now?”

  He shrugs. “They pay for everything.”

  “Try not to be too mean to Holly. She and Mallory are still friends.�
�

  “What do you want to do, double date?”

  “Fuck no.” I slap him on the shoulder.

  Valerie approaches like we’re two poisonous snakes on the loose. “How do we feel about tonight, boys?”

  Jacob and I share a look. “Good,” we answer at the same time.

  Val blows out a relieved breath. “Thank God. You scared the shit out of me last night, Jacob.”

  “Scared? Why? Sounds like I had a blast.”

  Please let us survive these next two shows.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chaser

  The final show is the best one yet.

  “I could do ten more of these!” Garrett shouts, pumping his fist in the air, as we file into our dressing room.

  “Glad you can. I’m wiped,” Jacob rasps. He falls onto the couch and closes his eyes.

  To his credit, after last night’s show, he went straight to bed and stayed there.

  There’s a knock at our door, and since Valerie’s closest, she opens it. Her slack-jawed expression and the way she slowly opens the door pulls me to my feet.

  Mark Cutter walks in and introduces himself to Val.

  “Sorry, I haven’t been able to get back to you, but I’m here to discuss Kickstart now,” he says.

  “Come on in. They’re just relaxing after the show.”

  “Good stuff up there tonight,” Mark says, taking the chair across from Jacob.

  “Thanks.” I perch on the edge of the couch and glance over at Mallory who seems to be trying to blend in with the wallpaper.

  “So, Andrew swears you guys are more than the ‘Candy Jar’ fluff piece,” Cutter says, digging right in.

  I knew that fucking song would haunt us.

  “Absolutely.” Jacob sits forward, all business now. “Chaser and I wrote it as a joke in like a half hour. But it took off from there.”

  “Pretty successful for a joke. If that’s what you two can do in a half hour, I’m eager to see what you can do with more.”

  “We have a pretty extensive list of material we’re considering for our new album,” Garrett says.

  Extensive is a bit of a stretch, but we’ve collected enough for a full-length album and a few B sides.

  “Is ‘Queen of the Road’ one of them?”

  “Yes,” I answer carefully, not really in the mood for him to say it’s crap.

  “Complex tune. Has an interesting feel to it. Different.” Cutter nods. “Who’s the main songwriter?”

  We all look at each other. “Everyone contributes,” I say.

  “The big definitive riffs are Chaser,” Alvin explains. “We all help with the lyrics, but Jacob and Chaser write the bulk of it.”

  “That’s fair,” Jacob agrees.

  “We collaborate best when we’re all together,” I explain. “I’ll bring a riff and a handful of lyrics to the guys sometimes. Alvin helps me stretch it out. Garrett layers on the melody around it. Jacob listens in and works out lyrics to fit the piece.”

  “Teamwork. Good.” Cutter squeezes his chin between his thumb and index finger. “Here’s the thing, ‘Candy Jar’ is your only song that’s charted.”

  “Uh, ‘Hammer to the Heart’ also made the Top 100,” Alvin points out.

  Sure, it only made it to number ninety-eight. Still counts.

  “Right.” Cutter wags his finger at all four of us. “Now, that’s a good one. Very original. Your label should’ve given you more support on it.”

  “That’s kind of what we want to get back to,” Jacob says. “That grittier, raw, real life, intense feeling in our music.”

  “Excellent. So, I think you know I’m a busy man. I’ve got a few bands I regularly work with. When it’s time to get in the studio, we’re all in, and there’s no fucking around.” He glances at Jacob then me. “Everyone gets their ass into the studio on time and works together or I walk.”

  I shift my gaze Jacob’s way, since he’s the only one who’s ever had an issue with time management. “That’s what we’re looking for.”

  “My time is too valuable to waste,” Cutter continues. “Kickstart doesn’t have enough history for me to take the risk.”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My stomach rockets into my boots.

  “So, here’s what I propose,” he says slowly, like someone should be taking notes. “Round up all the material you’re considering for the new album and narrow it down to your four best. Not what you think I want to hear. The songs that best represent the essence of who Kickstart is as a band.”

  We’re all hanging on to his every word.

  “Book some studio time and make me a demo of those songs. That’ll show me that you’re serious. If I like what I hear, we’ll work together. Andrew says you’re going out on the road with them, so get the demo done before you leave. By the time you’re back, I’ll have you on my schedule and ready to go. That way, you can work out the pieces on the road. Toss what isn’t working. Improve the songs that are.”

  Damn, that doesn’t align with the timeline the record label wants for us to put out the next album.

  “The label wants them to re-record a new version of ‘Cry it Out,’ do you want that too?” Valerie asks.

  “No. New stuff,” he answers, without looking at her. “You want to add ‘Cry it Out’ when we go into the studio, that’s fine. Right now, I want your energy focused on new stuff.”

  After he leaves, we sit and stare at the door.

  “Shit.” Garrett runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck.”

  “Why so deflated?” Val claps her hands together. “Cheer up. This is great news.”

  “Great?” Jacob can’t hide his irritation. “He’s making us interview.”

  “It’s not uncommon.” Val places her hands on her hips and stares us down. “You heard all the rules he laid out? He did that because he wants to work with Kickstart. He wants you to nail this. Don’t let him down.”

  “Who’s paying for the studio time?” Jacob asks.

  “Who cares? We’ll find the money.” I can’t believe that’s what he’s worried about.

  “Easy for you to say when your girlfriend’s apparently loaded,” he grumbles.

  I knew letting him see the guitar Mallory bought me would bite me in the ass eventually.

  “Settle down.” Val glares at both of us. “The record company will cover it. As long as you get it done quickly, I don’t think it will be an issue. They want you to put something out soon.”

  “Do it fast but make it good. That’s a lot of pressure.” Jacob’s scratchy voice rubs some guilt in. He needs to be on vocal rest after this weekend.

  Alvin’s kept quiet for as long as he can. “What the fuck else have we been working for if not this?” His wild hand gestures punctuate the frustration in his thunderous voice. “We’ve been rehearsing the new songs. I can think of five off the top of my head right now we could give him.”

  “Easy, Chipmunk,” Jacob rasps.

  “Fuck you, Jacob. Don’t ruin this because you’re afraid of success.”

  “I’m not ruining shit.”

  “All right.” I stand up and hold out my hands like a boxing ref trying to push my two bandmates into their corners. “Val’s right. This is a good sign. We rocked this weekend. We’re all exhausted from back to back shows of this caliber. Let’s take the next couple days to regroup.” I glance at Jacob. “You killed it this weekend, now it’s time to rest your voice.”

  Jacob nods and mouths a quick, “Sorry” to Alvin.

  “I’ll do what I can to find a studio and have you set up by Wednesday,” Val promises. “By the way, what’s this talk about a Vicious Vandals tour?”

  “Something Andrew’s hinted at. Nothing’s solid yet.”

  “Well, keep me in the loop. Maybe I can talk the label into an actual tour bus for you this time.”

  “Holy shit.” Jacob high-fives Garrett. “A tour with Vicious Vandals will be sick! Those guys know how to party.”

  Even though this weekend was
a success, I can’t help feeling like, sooner or later, I’ll find myself on another rooftop trying to coax half my band off the ledge.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Mallory

  This is a joke.

  My agent claims a fairly well-known producer wants to meet with me. She’ll only whisper his name in person, so I have to go all the way down to her office. Supposedly, he saw me in the coffee commercial and has the perfect part for me. In an established television series.

  The punchline? The meeting is supposed to take place at the Beverly Hills Hotel.

  It all feels a little too familiar to how I was set up with Davey Revolver in England. When I expressed my concerns to Marilyn, because yes, I’d had to explain that whole debacle to her, she assured me these kinds of informal meetings happen all the time. I don’t really buy it, but I also don’t want to pass up the meeting if there’s a chance it’s legitimate.

  “Are you fucking kidding?” The absolute look of horror and disbelief on Chaser’s face after I explain the situation would almost be comical if we weren’t talking about my career.

  “Trust me, I said the same thing.”

  He scrubs his hands over his face. “You’re not going alone.”

  “Thank you.” I didn’t realize how much I’d been hoping he would say that until the words came out of his mouth.

  His eyebrows shoot up as if he’d expected me to argue with him. But, nope. I’m relieved.

  “What time?”

  Here’s the part that makes it even better. “Eight o’clock tonight.”

  “You fucking kidding me? Is it an audition or a date?”

  “Will it cut into your session with Andrew?”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about.” He waves his hand in the air. “We’re almost done, anyway.”

  Chaser’s been working long hours with Andrew, coming home later and later every night. The lack of sleep has made him edgy and irritable, so I can’t wait until they’re finished.

  Chaser tugs on my hand, pulling me along. “Come on, let’s get you to your audition.”