Hung Out: A Needles and Pins Rock Romance (17 page)

The circuit with Rattler hinged on tour support for two recovering addicts—Gage and the drummer. At this point, Gage had already committed to the tour, but Jewelstone was looking to acquire a professional in the rehab field before committing Rattler to the open offered dates of several large festivals and scheduling surrounding venue dates in the spring, summer, and fall.

Over the last several weeks, Jax had spoken at length about bands who self-imploded due to substance abuse. It had happened with a few of the bands on the Jewelstone label, and they were more careful now about the artists they signed. This certainly explained the vibes he’d been getting from the man.

He knew Jax, who was owner and producer of the label, was impressed with his work. Yet, he’d done everything but talk about a future solo project once Gage’s non-compete clause in the Fire Flight contract ran out.

At first Gage had felt affronted. But now he was fine with it. He’d made his bed with sheets of mistakes and duvets of bad decisions. He had no problem lying in it now that he knew that was what he was doing. Maybe after this temporary stint with Rattler and a year of remaining clean, he would be taken seriously again by those he respected in the industry.

Colt returned and seconds behind him, four disgruntled teens trailed from the lower pool back to the upper pool. As his friend resettled with a cold beer, Gage eyed the teens and spoke of Seth. “He pulls a Houdini as good as his daddy.”

“Yeah. Sorry about the other night.” But Colt didn’t sound remorseful for his vanishing act at the party around this very pool the previous night.

“And the night before. And New Year’s Eve.” Gage reminded, still curious and even pissed about times he was left sitting with Colt’s date while Colt went missing for an hour. And then it hit him! Watching his friend for even an eye twitch, he probed. “You’re seeing someone! Someone who is
someone
. Or someone who is married.” There it was. A muscle in the other man’s jaw flexed, but he covered it quickly with a sip of beer. “Who is she?”

“Delusional much? You’re crazy. Know that?”

“Is it a
he
?” Gage added this part to rile any homophobic tendencies Colt might have, but the other man only grinned and drained the last of the beer in his bottle.

“Worry about your own fucked up love life.”

“I have no love life. And I like it that way.”
Liar… Scar, my sweet darlin’ love…

“What?” Two mocking brows shot upward, disappearing beneath Colt’s long messy bangs. “I thought you and Allison were true love!”

“Shut the fuck up…” He’d tried with Allison. He truly had. But she wasn’t girlfriend built. The trouble was she thought of herself as a girlfriend. Probably, because he’d broken so many of his own rules with her lately. He knew she was expecting to go on tour. But there was no way that was happening. Especially not if Scarlette came along…

The beers enticed him from their bath of icy water, but he resisted. He was limiting himself to one or two a day, and he wanted to wait until he was home making music with one of his six string loves in his hands.

“So…” Colt chaperoned the brood of kids as he spoke. “We’ll be on tour together briefly this summer.”

“Yeah.” Gage thought of the festival where Fire Flight would be the main act and Rattler one of the opening on the same stage. “Look, man. I’m glad things worked out for you. I know I never said it. I was bitter for a while. But I’m glad I didn’t fuck things up for the whole band. You guys are killin’ it.”

“It ain’t the same without you though. The new guy—he’s cool. But we all wish it were back like it was. With you.”

And why wasn’t it? There had to be a reason he’d screwed up so badly and derailed his life. He believed in fates—in windows opening and doors closing. If Fire Flight was closed to him, something better was going to open. Right?

“Hang in there.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t look so glum. Hang in there. You’re on the brink of something good. Jewelstone doesn’t poach lightly. You can bet they’ve got big things in mind for you.”

“They’re not having to poach me,” Gage reminded.

“Don’t kid yourself. Jax took an interest in you before you were out of Fire Flight.” Colt sat up straight and frowned at the water. “Really? They’re going to do that shit right in front of me?”

Gage eyed the teens who had coupled off to two corners of the pool and were making out. “Give ’em a break, Dad.”

“Sure. And then Dad becomes Granddad…”

Gage was no longer listening. His thoughts had wandered to horny teens of another time, around another pool…

“…Remington’s sister. Hotter than a firecracker! Think that cherry’s been popped?”

Wham. Gage’s fist met his friend’s chin.

When the ‘friend’s’ parents called his father, his father had patted him proudly on the back after hearing the story.

I’m proud of you, son. She’s your sister. Always look out for her.

T
he studio was cozy and at the same time chic. Noise City—my only other glimpse of a recording studio—had been dark and cluttered with stained carpet and dusty corners. Jewelstone—I gazed around—was in pristine condition and sunlight spilled into the main room through skylights.

A couple of months back when Jax had explained his vision of ongoing, on location rehabilitation, I had taken weeks to contemplate his proposal. Going on the Rattler tour as an addiction consultant and specialist was considered even more carefully knowing Gage was to be one of my clients. In his initial phone call, Jax had referenced the ice bar and a conversation where I’d told him my field of study, but truth be told, I was certain Gage had recommended me. In fact, I’d never been more certain than when Logan subtly added his support to the proposal.

Jax had spoken with me about using this tour as a model to build a rehab clientele with others in similar need of a sober companion. Labels looked bad when their bands had to cancel shows and tours due to drug and alcohol addictions. He wanted to minimize that ever happening to Jewelstone again, and he sounded as if he truly worried about throwing his artists on the road right out of rehab. He’d said someone of my allopathic skills traveling with band members who battled addictions might come to be as popular as chefs and other specialty entourage. I’d quickly warmed to the idea and agreed.

The tour was already underway and had been for a few weeks. I would intersect with their itinerary next week after my graduation ceremony. Technically, I’d just this week completed graduation requirements at the top of my class. I wasn’t required to attend the formal ceremony, but had decided with Logan’s input to enjoy the pomp and circumstance I’d earned.

What I hadn’t discussed with Logan was the truth behind this quick trip to Dallas. Ivy and Caroline were the only ones I’d confided in. As well as speaking to me about my allopathic therapy methods, Jax had also questioned me extensively about the songs I’d performed in the documentary and had seemed surprised they weren’t to be included in the soundtrack release.

“You don’t want those floating around the internet. A studio version will ensure your interests are protected. Aside from that, the cover version is beautiful. It should be ‘out there.’”

My first instinct had been to pick up the phone and ask Gage’s advice. Instead, I’d dialed my stepfather’s number and found him in agreement. He’d even looked over the paperwork and had assured me Jewelstone was known for looking out for the interests of the talent they signed.

After much deliberation, I’d flown here the day after my last final, courtesy of a private jet Jewelstone had sent, to have a recording session as well as to finalize my therapeutic presence on the tour.

“Scarlette! Welcome!” Jax manifested in the doorway and shook my hand. “I wanted to meet you at the airport myself, but was finishing up a project. Your flight go okay?”

“Everything was wonderful. Thanks.”

“Excuse me…” A very familiar face in the alternative rock world came into view. The young woman curved an apologetic smile toward me and introduced herself. “I’m the project from hell.”

I watched the banter between the two as they discussed a closed hi hat versus a foot hi hat. Soon the young woman apologized again and waved as she moved off. “Thanks for letting me interrupt, Scarlette. I’ll leave you now in the genius hands of this man and his soundboard.”

Jax had one of his tech guys bring my guitar in and explained that the session wouldn’t take long. “We want the sound as real and raw as possible.”

I recorded on my guitar as well as another, and we did three vocal takes. Jax explained the final mix might be overlaid with some of his own recording of the melody. A beautiful woman he introduced as his wife videoed parts of the session. It was painless and complete by the end of the day.

“Do I remember you saying you didn’t begin playing until around a year ago?” He asked while playing back one of the tracks. When I confirmed, he was interested in how much I practiced. My several hours on most days seemed to impress him. And in the end, he concluded with a smile and a shake of his head the same thing Gage, Colt, and Seth had. “Just another living prodigy as proof—skills are as much genetic as learned.”

I knew I didn’t have a fraction of the abilities of the many musicians I admired. But I was getting there. And in the meantime, it was nice to have experts comment on how well the uncomplicated compositions complimented my voice.

Over dinner with his family, we talked of the tour. He said it was going well but he was concerned about the drummer staying clean on the road. “And your broth—your—Gage…” He fumbled the reference and actually flushed! “Gage, I know is determined. But it won’t hurt to have an expert—you—right there in case he runs into trouble.”

His wife took that moment to intervene subtly. “Who’s ready for dessert?”

They drove me to the airport as night fell. At the foot of the airstairs, we parted with a shake of hands, spontaneous hugs, and Jax’s wife passed me a care package containing a couple of slices of the cheesecake I’d turned down due to being too full from the delicious Italian entree.

“Welcome to the Jewelstone family, Scarlette. Looking forward to working with you.”

Watching the metropolis lights fade as the plane headed west, I replayed the day. I knew what I’d been offered musically with Jewelstone was based as much on the merit of who I was as who I could be. My father had been a musical genius and everyone who knew music and heard me play believed I had inherited his skills. I could be great one day. But I was Scarlette Conterra. Did a name sell itself in this industry?

And what did I want? Right now, music was a newly discovered passion. An outlet for my confused and stressed emotions. Was I ready for it to become more? And if it did, would I have to choose between music and the career I’d schooled for?

Graduation night arrived
. Speeches were made and diplomas dispensed.

Logan waved and I grinned as I made my way through the crowd toward him.

“So…” He pulled me into a hug. “What’re we doing to celebrate?”

Easing from his embrace, but remaining in the curve of his arm, I bit back the first flirtatious answer springing to mind. Had it been Derrick, we would have celebrated with wine, hot sauce, and sex. Had it been Gage, likely we would have taken a guitar or two and the wine straight to bed, playing and drinking between the sex. But even though Logan and I had been dating exclusively since just after the holidays, our relationship had never heated up.

Our relationship was odd, but it worked for me in all ways except sex. I enjoyed Logan’s company and having a boyfriend kept most other men away. However, it would’ve been nice to get-off to more than the pulsating spray of the shower massage wand.

“My mom wants to take us out to eat, if that’s okay. After that, you and I could grab a drink. Then I have to go home. Finish packing.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow’s the big day.” He spoke of the Rattler tour. For a moment, I glimpsed sadness beyond the attractive brandy tint of his irises. But his wide smile indicated he was happy for me.

I had last seen my parent near the grand staircase of the auditorium hallway. Tugging on Logan’s hand, I headed that way. Henni seemed distracted, but I quickly pasted on a smile. Wondering what was up, I excused myself to the restroom.