CHAPTER EIGHT
Rory
The pretty make-up artist powdered my nose, gushing over me, as some women do because I play the drums. When I was in my early twenties that stuff turned me on, but now, meh. Too many anonymous women in equally nameless hotel rooms rubbed the shine off casual sex for me. I’m not looking for anything permanent, mind you. But to feel a connection with a woman, someone who desires you for you, instead of your image would be welcome.
But with my face flashing a big neon sign that says, “Here’s a big star,” that isn’t likely to happen.
“Five minutes, Mr. Holmes,” said a production assistant carrying an iPad as he walked by the room.
“I think I’m okay,” I said as the make-up artist raised the large powder brush to my face again.
“Sure, Mr. Holmes. Good luck on the show tonight.”
I would need luck because on stage would be my old band mates from Banshee, Cole Kane and Jersey Dys, two people who could not stand each other.
It was stupid, what happened. Cole and Jersey, in a late night drunken poker playing, went too far. Both of them had money, so that meant nothing in a poker game. So when the Jack Daniels started talking instead of their brains, Jersey demanded some real stakes for the cards laid out on the table.
Sometimes Jersey doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.
Cole suggested that they put the ownership rights for the songs they co-wrote on the table. Jersey agreed. They wrote up their little agreement on a napkin, which Cole idiotically hangs framed in his home office.
Cole’s cards won the hand.
And that’s when the fight started.
It culminated in a nightmarish suit in civil court at which I had to testify. Neither man spoke to me for years after that.
Banshee was dead before the judge returned his verdict.
Through no fault of my own, my life disintegrated. My best friends were no longer speaking and my livelihood demolished over a stupid poker game. I did my best to put together the shards of my life, but damn it, when both of your best friends betray you, that digs deep.
It’s only because Franklin Alexander pulled my shit together that I’m standing here ready to go on stage and lie my fucking mouth off about what happened at Angelo’s. I owe him in more than one way for my life, so I’ll do what Jacine says and put on a happy face, and talk up this concert her miracle team pulled out of their nether regions at The Hollywood Bowl? Eighteen thousand seats of screaming fans? Yeah. With a gross of around four million for one night. But the money wasn’t in the ticket sales. It was in the television rights, and the CD recorded from the performance. Millions more rode on those deals.
Not that I needed the money. No, this was a way to show promoters that despite our butt head action, we would make filthy lucre for them.
Hell, even my former business manager called me, leaving several pleading messages that his quitting was a big misunderstanding.
So far, I hadn’t answered. The jerk should have had more faith in me. Let him sweat.
Jacine stood in the wings with Jersey and Cole next to her giving each other the evil eye. Tobias Marshall shadowed them all, which surprised me, but I suppose he was here to hand out a few forthright legal words of advice like “don’t fuck this up.”
I won’t. My bread is buttered firmly on the side of "let's not fuck this up."
Cole and Jersey, on the other hand, stare at each other as if the other was an interloper in their private territory. I notice that Jacine is between them as if she’s trying to keep them from tearing each other apart. And the lawyer? His eyes are narrowed and his lips drawn into a tight slash. He keeps glancing at Jacine and my ex-confederates as if he wanted to separate all of them, which might be a good idea.
But the music cues with our signature hit Ever, and Jersey doesn’t even have time to shoot Cole a nasty look, because Cole will get the royalties for that even before the PAs usher us to the entrance. We all plaster huge smiles on our faces and walk out waving to the studio audience, totally lying about our feelings of being on stage together.
The studio crowd, either naturally enthusiastic or groomed, I don’t know which, stood on their feet and gave us a standing ovation. We sat down on the long sofa that holds guests and Nyberg smiles at us like we are old friends.
And the lying continued. But we pulled it off. The audience laughed, Bob Nyberg wished us luck, and we walked off the stage like we were best of friends.
As if.
Once off the stage though, Cole and Jersey looked at each other cross-eyed and quickly Jacine, and the lawyer moved to intervene.
And because I had enough of these two’s nonsense, I did too.
“Come on, guys,” I said. “Let’s not blow this. Jacine here set up a sweet deal for us after the disaster at Angelo’s.”
Both of them gave me the stink eye, but I don’t care. It was about time these two manned up and started acting like adults.
“Why don’t you mind your own business, Holmes,” snapped Kane.
“Cole,” said the lawyer. “He’s right.”
“And what business is it of yours?” said Cole.
“If you want to know, it was my connections that got you that date. My reputation, not to mention friendships of long standing are on the line if you screw up.”
“What?” said Jacine with disbelief betraying this was news to her.
“I wouldn’t do it for just anybody, Jacy. But I placed a call. Or two.”
“Tobias, you shouldn’t have.”
“It was important to you, so I did.”
Cole looked like someone took away his favorite toy. Jersey bristled, and I didn’t understand why, until I saw Jacine Alexander’s eyes sparkle with affection for the lawyer. And Cole and Jersey obviously had their sights set on her.
And losing badly to Mr. Lawyer.
“What the hell!” spouted Cole.
“Cole, please,” pleaded Jacine.
“Why are you trying to appease this asshole,” snarled Jersey.
“Let’s take this outside,” said Tobias.
“Shut up!” Cole and Jersey said in unison.
A shocked PA ran up to them. “Guys, we are trying to tape here. You’ll have to leave.” A security guard moved into our line of sight, punctuating the need for us to get out of Dodge.
Cole scoffed, and Jersey sneered, but they turned toward the exit. Even in this, they made into a competition by nearly pushing each other out of the way.
Jackasses.
And then it got worse.
I followed her and the lawyer out to the parking lot to find Kane and Dys rolling around on the ground.
It was a perfectly fine spring evening, with the sun shining low in the sky and the temperature a perfectly reasonable seventy-two degrees, but these two were sweating like pigs in their effort to pound each other into the ground.
“Damn it,” I grunted as I pulled the topmost, which was Dys, off of Kane.
“What are you, five?”
The lawyer helped Kane off the ground, but none too gently.
“Do I have to remind you,” he said derisively, “that a condition of your bail is that you don’t get into any more trouble? Do you want to go to jail?” the lawyer sputtered.
“Tobias, will you get Mr. Kane home?”
“Oh, so it’s Mr. Kane now?”
Her eyes grew dark as a raven’s wings as she put her hands on her hips. Though she wore a thoroughly LA fashion statement of a red duster, white cami top and skinny black jeans, the expression on her face was utterly fearsome. She stood as a Norse Valkyrie, chooser of the slain. Only she appeared to want to slay both Kane and Dys.
She was magnificent.
My breath hitched in my throat as I watched her stare down two of the biggest rock stars in the country. Now, that was a woman worth having.
“What do you mean, ‘now?’” spouted Dys.
“Enough!” she ordered. She waved her hand at a limo parked by the door, and the driver rolled the window down.
“Anson, please take Mr. Dys home.”
“Yes, Ms. Alexander.”
“But Jacine—” Dys said.
“Go! I’ll talk to you later. And neither one of you better have a black eye tomorrow because we have more talk shows to do.”
Dys drew his lips tight together but entered the limo after the driver opened the door.
“Tobias, please take Mr. Kane home.”
“I’ll drive myself,” he said.
“No. Look. Goddamn it, your eye is swelling already. You won’t be able to see out of it to drive. Go home. Put some ice on it.”
“I’d rather you put something else on it.”
I could not believe the jerk leered at her.
“Tobias, please,” she said as she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Come on, Mr. Kane,” said the lawyer. Though he spoke formally, his tone was anything but respectful. Jacine scowled at Cole, and he nodded his head.
“I’ll call you later,” he said as if he had that right.
Jacine stood like the ice princess she was as the men drove off, leaving her alone with me. And then she blinked.
“Damn,” she said. “I don’t have a ride home.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go?”
“How about a nice island in the Caribbean?”