Chapter Three
RUTH
I was two hours from my L.A. home when Jayne called. I was sipping straight black coffee since it should have been too early to be awake, but I was restless as of late.
I guess knowing you’re about to lose your soul made it hard to sleep. Made you wonder how much life you could work into two months. Would any new music come to me? Any last words to leave behind? Who would look after Moose once I was gone, and who would keep sticking my mother in rehab when she got too bad again until the day she chose to get better for herself? I had to figure it out, all the while enjoying what days I had left.
And even more importantly, I tried to figure out where my money was needed most.
I wasn’t even going to act like music, and this life wasn’t all about me because it was. Singing, songwriting, the tours, the fans, that was all for me. I was a greedy little bitch and accepted that I didn’t mind attention. I felt my voice was well deserved of its praise. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be compassionate. Even though I treated myself like a queen sometimes, I respected each and every person I encountered. I tried to stay humble, because I knew what it was like to be at the bottom, and I definitely knew how it felt to be treated like shit.
Even the media couldn’t say otherwise, and they were like sharks always looking for a fish to fry. The only person I’d ever shown hatred for was Liz. And that was in my earlier years before I learned to just let it go. Let her go. She wasn’t worth it. The only thing that had given me a weird reputation was the deaths that surrounded me.
“Hello, Earth to Ruth? Didn’t you hear me?” Jayne yelled over the phone.
I blinked, took notice of Moose as he lay on his back, paws straight up in the air, completely dead to the world before I responded, “Sorry. What?”
She sighed. I’d imagined her tossing her light brown hair back over her shoulder as she walked down the hall. I thought I heard her heels clacking against the expensive tile. “I said, guess who has to stop in the studio tomorrow to sign off on the new band?”
She didn’t even have to say his name for me to know who she was talking about—Amit Kingston, the president of Black Hearts. A man shrouded in mystery. He took over the old president’s position around the same time I signed on with them. Coincidentally, the old president was killed outside his house by what they claimed to be a dog attack that same day. His own dog to be exact. It was big news back then, and all everyone talked about. Before that event no one knew about Amit. Some even assumed he was related to the former president, possibly an unknown grandchild. Why else would he get a multi-million dollar company? But none of his family knew the guy. I’d still yet to catch a glimpse of him after all these years. Jayne encountered him a few times and claimed he was the sexiest and most frightening man she’d ever met. Once she snapped me a back shot of him in a dark blue suit. There were only three things I could point out about him in the photo.
His dark brown hair.
His impressive height.
And his sheer width and massive arms.
Looking at his picture made my bottom lip tremble. Somehow his back told me he gave zero fucks about everything. My gut told me to stay away from a man like that. Only Amit seemed to be my ultimate supporter. Apparently, he dealt with none of his contracts—neither his actors nor singers. He had no care what happened to them or what they did, leaving it to his people to deal with, but Jayne had very excitedly pointed out that it was all true except when it came to me.
Which shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her. Without a doubt, I had been his number one moneymaker. Of course he showed an interest in my well-being and wanted to make sure I stayed with Black Hearts. Even going as far as backing me the months that followed the LoFlo tour. Weeks later, I heard his voice during his first and only phone call to me.
I still remembered his contrasting voice—downright harsh and broken compared to my soothing, melodic one. His voice terrified me, like a teacher speaking sternly to a child. Instantly, I stiffened and straightened in my lounge chair. The sound sent a shiver down my spine.
Fear.
At the same time, fright gave way to a high level of curiosity that continued to eat at me.
“Why are you not at the studio?” he barked in a brittle voice the moment I’d answered the phone.
“Excuse me?” I breathed out.
“Are you that bothered by what they’re saying that you’re hiding out in your house?” he asked gruffly, like it was a pain to talk to me.
“Who is this?” I asked, the worry in my gut causing me to tug on my bottom lip.
“Get to the studio and sing like you desire.” Strange words. “I’m holding a press conference at noon where we will as nicely as one can tell them to fuck off. We aren’t bothered by the rumors. Hear me, Ruth? Fuck. Them. All. In fact, we’re so not worried, you’re going to plan yourself a new album, and we’ll announce it today.”
Dumbstruck, I mumbled. “Mr. Kingston?” Was I really talking to Amit Kingston? He called me?
“Yeah, so get to the studio or stay there, wherever it is you need to be in order to write your new album, go!”
“Wait, Mr. Kingston. There’s no need for that.” He was silent on the other end. “The rumors don’t bother me, I couldn’t care less. Hell, they’re sort of true. I thought this would be a good time for a break. A chance to regroup and work on that new album you wanted me to write, but at my pace and without a press conference.”
I waited for his agreement, holding my breath impatiently. I hoped he went along with what I wanted.
“You’re. Not. Bothered. By. The. Rumors?” He practically butchered each word over pronouncing them as he exhaled deeply.
“I honestly don’t care. Freaked out more than anything,” I mumbled softly. He had no clue as to why I was so freaked out. Never would. Death was scary, but this was more than death. This was a demon. A soul reaper.
With a literal growl, he hung up on me, then a few minutes later, Jayne called and told me to take as much time as I needed. Just stay happy and do what I wanted. Company orders.
Now I wasn’t a part of the company. My contract ended three years ago, and I never needed to resign. By that point, I was already a millionaire with a huge reputation. I still collaborated with Black Hearts’s artists and spent a lot of time at their studio and even did things when they asked me to, but by all accounts, I was a free agent. My own boss.
“Amit Kingston,” Jayne did her whisper-hiss as I was so accustomed to, knocking me back to the present.
“Who’s the new band?” I asked on purpose, knowing it was driving her mad, and doing my best to downplay the excited and nervous little jitters at the prospect of catching a whiff of Amit in the flesh. The longer someone stayed away from people, most importantly me, the more curious I became. Why did the one that looked after me so well refuse to meet me?
“Ruth, don’t even.” She sighed, and I laughed lightly. “The meeting’s at noon tomorrow, so I figured we could get down there by eleven and horse around until he has no choice but to walk through the halls and alas, you see him for the first time.”
I snorted, pinching my nose in an effort to stop doing it. “How many times have we failed at this plan before?”
She huffed. “We won’t this time. I’ve got confirmation that he has to be there this time. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. C’mon, Ruth, don’t you finally want to see that fine piece of man candy?”
“I’m curious,” I admitted, but she already knew this. “But unless he wants to meet me… I feel silly about the entire thing. Besides, if he’s as good looking as everyone claims, then why hide it?”
“Maybe he’s not full of vanity like so many of these hotshot actors. He doesn’t need to show off. He’s just all male…”
I knew she would go on and on if I didn’t stop her. “I guess I’m one of those conceited hotshots of the female variety?” I deadpanned.
“No, Ruth, don’t even compare yourself.”
I chuckled, taking another sip of my coffee. “It’s fine. I do like the attention.”
“How far away are you?” she asked.
“About two hours?” I offered.
“Good. I’ll be waiting for you at the mansion.”
“Did you do what I asked?” I muttered.
“I did, but who asks about getting a will notarized at twenty-eight?”
One that’s about to die.
“You never know.” I sighed. “This bus could crash and burn, killing me before I even make it home to see your pretty face one last time.”
“I hate when you talk like this,” she groaned. “But thanks for calling me pretty. Is that your way of asking me to cook you something? We need to date, Ruth, or at least date each other. I’m not against dating a sexy millionaire rapper.”
I grinned. “Hey, I wasn’t asking, but if you want to, by all means. Wait, I thought we already were dating? You take care of me and all my money already. The only thing I haven’t done is tapped that tiny white ass.”
She laughed boisterously in my ear. “No need calling it tiny. What I got, I make it count.”
“I know. It’s nice. That new bodyguard Max looks at it every chance he can.”
“Does he really?” she asked. “How is he doing by the way?”
“He brought up Liz last night good-naturedly, and Rupert smacked him across the head.”
“Oh, God.” I pictured her shaking her head as she said that. “Rupert’s got your back though.”
I smirked. “Max is friendly and easygoing. I don’t think he can help what comes out of his mouth.”
“I’ve been there,” she admitted.
“Have you checked in on my ma?” Growing up, my mother would ask me not to call her mom in public. Said it made her sound old so since then, I made a job of calling her Ma instead, which she hated even more. It stuck over the years, and I couldn’t stop calling her that.
“Yeah, she threw her tray at me when I saw her yesterday. We can see her after you meet Amit for the first time tomorrow unless you want to relax a few days before going?”
“Nah, tomorrow’s good.”
“Can’t wait to see your face,” she said excitedly.
“You just saw me two days ago,” I pointed out.
“Two days too long.”
This was why I loved her.