Chasing the Music: For the Love of Music Book 0.5 (2 page)

Ryker winked like an ass. “Don’t tell your band you’d never have them under anything but
Lita James
.”

Lita ignored his last comment and picked up her guitar. She
had
to double check. Ryker had always tuned to perfection, but she couldn’t leave it alone while she waited for the guys to arrive. And it hadn’t been up to her to find someone new to help Ryker, but she also needed someone she could trust. “You sure this brother of yours is up to this?” Lita asked as she went through a few chord progressions. Spot-on tuning. As always.

Ryker kneeled on the stage floor, checking the plug-ins. “My brother needs to be saved from his childhood girlfriend, so that was my first motivation, but he builds his own guitars. From scratch. He can fix anything. So, yeah. He can handle this.”

“Are we gonna have another Ryker?” Lita rolled her eyes, but smiled because everyone teased Ryker for being a bit of an egotistical prick, and he was, but not a bad guy.

Ryker stood and dusted off his designer jeans. “My brother is wholly good and decent. Nothing like me.” And he winked again.

“Stop with the winking, Ryker. It makes you look like an ass, and I’m your boss.” She frowned, knowing he’d never take her seriously, because he didn’t take anything seriously.

“You’re far too small to be a scary boss.”
Ryker puckered his lips and blew her a fake kiss. If he hadn’t been so good at his job, and she hadn’t known him since the beginning of her career, she’d never let him get away with being so damn infuriating. There was no point in arguing with him when he was in a mood like this. She’d kick him down a notch later.

Lita’s manager stepped onto the stage, followed by the drummer, and then the bass player. In her mind Ryker ceased to exist. “Thanks for showing up,” she snapped as she slid her guitar strap over her shoulder. Less than two weeks, and the set still felt like a mess.

She wasn’t there to make friends with the guys who were hired to play with her. She was there to make sure that she was good enough so that the articles like the one Carmen was involved with wouldn’t kill her career. Lita had no intention of being a three album “wonder.” She was in music for the long haul.

An hour after rehearsal, Lita sat alone on the stage. It was the only time and place she could actually think. She plucked the strings on the red electric guitar, unplugged, and the melody that had filled her mind night after night played out on the strings. It was something she’d never use. Too soft. She’d built a small empire on her brutally honest lyrics and badassery.
Night Comes Softly
wasn’t ever going to fit into her set. Also, it reminded her of home. Too personal. She’d spent too much time shedding small town Georgia to keep playing around with the smoother songs that had started to press in her mind.

Her fingers were raw, and her calluses felt like they were weakening instead of getting stronger. Not good before a tour. She laid her head on the edge of the thin guitar, missing the muggy heat. Missing the old Martin acoustic guitar she grew up learning on, but loving her mother’s guitar.

“You okay?” Bridget stepped on to the side of the stage. “I got you Chipotle.”

Lita sat up. Bridget was in ridiculously expensive jeans, flats, and a jacket. Always. “Thanks. What do we have next?”

“Your fake boyfriend, Chandler, has left you two messages. You have ten five-minute interviews with radio stations. I’ll sit in with you and make sure you have the DJs names and states and all that. Cool?” She held the burrito between them and paused. That was way too heavy to eat before interviews.

The interviews were torture. Horrid torture. She had to show attitude, but not so much they’d think she was a bitch… And she always had to do a quick plug sentence for their radio station. Only one thing would make it bearable. “Iced coffee?”

“What kind of a PA do you think I am?” Bridge smirked. “But no one can live on coffee. You need to eat.”

Lita took the coffee from her other hand. “I love you.
Seriously
.”

“And that’s exactly why I put up with your shit.”

Lita looked over the schedule Bridget held out on her iPad and sighed. “If only Chandler were
actually
boyfriend material.” Though, he was a maybe-possibility…

Bridget leaned back on her hands, her light brown hair resting on her shoulders. “You’re too busy for a boyfriend.”

“I’ve been too busy for a boyfriend since I turned seventeen.” And her and her high school boyfriend had split because she was gone all the time. Lita leaned toward her high school friend to whisper. “What nearly twenty-year-old has only had sex once? And not even good sex?”

“You write about it like you know what you’re talking about.” Bridget bumped her shoulder with Lita’s. “And for real. You’re about to go on tour. You do
not
have time for a boyfriend.”

“I’m always about to go on tour.” Lita sighed.

They walked for the back door together. “Would you change it?” Bridget asked.

“Where I’m at?” Lita thought about her platinum albums, Grammys, and wardrobe. The clothes… Worth it for that alone. “Nope. I wouldn’t change it.”

“Well, then. Let’s head out. Big day today. And tomorrow And the next day. And the day after that. And the one after that...” Bridget pushed open the back door. “But I promise the tour schedule is pretty tame compared to what you’ve done in the past.”

Lita drank a long sip of her iced coffee and strutted toward the car in her four-inch heeled boots. Only a few more hours of chaos and she might be able to find some time to sleep.

Lita paced the room in heels while she grasped her phone. She’d have loved to flop in bed, but walking helped her keep up the energy she needed to maintain her image while being asked all the same questions about her new music and the tour and her mom...

“So, we’ve been hearing rumors about you and a certain actor,” the DJ said in a lowered, suggestive voice.

“What actor would that be?” she cooed back as her jaw clenched. This topic was supposed to be off-limits.

Bridget snorted as she tried not to laugh and Lita threw her a look. Not helpful. She already knew she was putting on a show; she didn’t need to be reminded of that in the middle of the mess.

“Rhymes with handler…”

Lita dropped her voice to match the rough, sexy voice she was known for, even though half the time she felt like an idiot for doing it. “And how would you know about the way he handles me?”

“Oh-oh!” The DJ laughed. “So, is that an admission then?”

Lita pointed at the phone and mouthed to Bridget. “They’re not supposed to ask me about him. That was in the pre-interview statement!”

Bridget frowned. “We won’t accept an interview with them next time. Sorry,” she whispered.

But Lita was live, so all she could do was continue.

“And who said I was only interested in guys?” The words flew out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them. Hell. This could work to her advantage, or go really, really wrong. So Lita laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be asking me about music?” She scrambled for his name and Bridget tapped the paper. Lita squinted. “Brett?”

“The new album. Yeah. Self-titled album means you’ve made it, right?”

Made it? What did that even mean? She had no idea anymore. How did she answer? What was she supposed to say to show him that she was
the
Lita James? “Damn straight.”

The words fell thick and heavy from her tongue. Lies. There was no such thing as “made it”.

“And how do you feel about this album following IRREVERENT, which is a platinum selling, Grammy award winning album? Does that add pressure?”

Yes, and I’m scared shitless.
“I really just can’t wait to get on the road,” she lied.

“Anything else you wanna say before we sign off?”

“Thanks for fooling around with me today,” she said, tossing his suggestive voice back at him.

“Oh, wait. One last question. Promise. What’s your favorite part of going on tour?”

Being on the bus where I’m mostly left alone.
“Getting to meet fans before the show. For sure.”

Bridget gave her two thumbs up.

“That’s seriously the best part, so hopefully I’ll see a lot of you out there!”

The DJ signed off the air and Lita exchanged a few more random words with him as the exhaustion of keeping up “Lita James” wore on her. She did the quick plug for the radio station and the second the call ended, she flopped on the bed. As soon as her body started to relax, she jerked in a shiver. Air conditioning sucked. She was always cold. At least the interviews were done. All of them. Well...for that day.

Two knocks on her bedroom door were followed quickly by Dave. “How did it go?” he asked.

“Where have you been?” Bridget snapped back. “You’re normally around for some of this.”

“Schedule.”

“You’re the tour manager.” Bridget folded her arms.

“It’s fine,” Lita said from under her pile of blankets. “Just… Can someone turn up the heat in here?”

“Are you serious?” Bridget asked.

Lita rolled, dragging the down comforter with her. “Of course I’m serious.” She knew she was acting like a child, but anyone would after her day.

“I’m going to go to the living room.” Bridget stood and tapped Lita’s thermostat. “Text me if you need anything. Apelu is in one adjoining room. I’m in the other.”

“And I’m up the hall,” Dave said.

Lita convulsed in another shiver. Maybe a hot shower. “You’re both a phone call away. I’m not a child,” she pouted, immediately realizing how stupid she sounded.

The door closed behind them and Lita tugged the blankets more tightly around her, pulling her knees to her chest. Being “herself” shouldn’t be so exhausting.

She let her eyes fall closed and thought about her tour schedule. Yes, it wasn’t as rigorous as what she’d done in the past, but it was longer. They were taking months, doing shows practically
everywhere
. It had better be worth it.

Three

The live music blasted into Griffin’s ears, and the drummer kept slipping off the rhythm. Not the best group he’d seen with Stacy at the local bar.

Tell her. Tell her now. Or now. Or now.

Stacy set a beer down on the table in front of him. He was twenty, but usually managed to slip into bars. Stacy was a year older and always bought the drinks. He was twenty-one soon, but for now, he still relied on her.

“I’m so glad you wanted to go out tonight.” She pecked his cheek. “I was tired of staying in.”

Griffin tried on a smile. “Come on.” He nudged her shoulder. “What about the girls from beauty school or the salon?”

Her lips pursed together and she shrugged. He got it. A lot of guys hadn’t been nice to her in school, and as a result, a lot of girls were awful to her as well. Small town. Big rumors. They lived in a place with beauty schools that were still called beauty schools. And he was thinking of leaving it all behind for a few blissful months. His eyes connected with Stacy’s again, and he wondered if he’d be able to leave when it was time.

“You’re way better than them!” she yelled over the music gesturing to the band.

He was.

It was an asshole thing to think, much less say, but the third band up on open mic night was even worse than the first two. Griffin just shrugged in response.

“Why didn’t you sign up?” Stacy asked as she sidled next to him, resting her small chin on his shoulder.

Griffin planted a quick kiss on her forehead. “Wasn’t sure if I’d make it on time tonight.”

That was a lie. He knew he’d make it on time. But what was the point? If he was well liked for his music, he might feel even more
tied
to Taylorsville instead of chasing after the music career that probably wouldn’t happen. Feeling like he could have a life elsewhere wasn’t going to help whatever had shifted him further from Stacy.

The few months away would help.

Her small lips brushed against his earlobe before sucking it into her mouth. He used to love that. The second her lips touched his ear or his neck he’d wanted to rip off her clothes. He picked at the label on his beer.

Band number three finished, and the fourth was setting up.

“I’m tired,” he lied. “Can we go after I finish this?”

Stacy sat back, her preened brows pulling together. “You okay, baby?”

He tightened his jaw to hold in the scream that tried to shove its way out from nowhere. “I’m great. Just tired.”

She blinked a few times and then nodded slowly. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

He knew she didn’t completely believe him. He also knew she wouldn’t call him on it, and for that, he was infinitely grateful.

Another night without sleep.

The thin sheet felt stifling, and it was only April. Griffin blinked, tried to force his eyes closed, but being stuck between Stacy and the wall only worked when the air conditioning was on. She didn’t normally crash at his place night after night, and now she was. Not sleeping was starting to get old.