Hung Out: A Needles and Pins Rock Romance (34 page)

Am I truly my father’s daughter? The day of reckoning was here.

My hands continued to shake, and I kept the one clamped on the pendant that had seen its last concert more than two decades ago.

The voice warm-up taught in a Skype session set up by Jewelstone seemed croaky to me, causing fresh panic. Taking a sip of water—tiny as advised by Gage—I began the scales again.

I needed Gage. Rattler’s song was clear, the beat filtering easily through the tent panels, and my ears soaked in the screams of his guitar.

A vase of flowers occupied one side of the enormous styling vanity. The card read, ‘Kill it, Scar Dar’. Dozens of long stemmed roses, red, edged in black. I studied the floral reflection, and when sudden understanding dawned, my singing tapered off.

“You have new ink.”… “Yeah. Like it?” A black charred red rose—or some might say scarlet…

My attention on the mirror and this revelation was jarred when a rap rattled the door, which only minutes before had automatically locked behind the stylist.

Oh God. Was it time?

Reluctantly, I crossed the room. I drew the door open without hesitation, knowing my bodyguard had stationed himself just outside and had already cleared anyone who would be knocking.

“Ivy!” I threw myself onto the other woman.

“Look at you!” After an initial hug greeting, my friend stepped back for a better view.

“What… How are you here?” I noted Ivy’s bracelet, the same all-access color and pattern as everyone else roaming this side of the stage.

“I wouldn’t miss this. Your first show!”

First or last?

“I’m so glad you’re here. I’m in freak-out mode.”

“You’re going to knock ’em dead.” Ivy seemed sure, and made a beeline for the vase on the dressing table. “These are beautiful!”

Following right behind her, I snatched the card.

“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” My friend’s smile was smug.

“They’re from Gage. But the world doesn’t need to know. Just being careful.”

Ivy nodded and opened her mouth, looking as if she wanted to probe for details, but she was interrupted by the knock on the door I had been dreading.

“Show time, Ms. Rose. I’m here to escort you. Five minutes and counting.”

Struggling to pull myself together, I stuffed the card into my hip pocket and closed a fist around the silver cross. I snagged a rose from the vase before turning my back on the terrified woman in the mirror. Ivy followed as Jimal, who’d relieved Joaquin, fell into step by my side. His hand rested lightly on my shoulder as I climbed the steps to the stage, miraculously without tripping. As I topped the short flight, a tech looped my guitar strap over my head.

Although Gage would be playing and my amp would be silent, I wore my axe like a security blanket. I adjusted the hang of it as I stopped with my toes at the tape that sectioned off the stage areas. Jimal nudged me, pushing something into my hand. “Mr. Remington said to be sure you had this.”

Looking down, I found a nausea bag. I clasped it, realizing how shallow my breathing had grown and how much my gut was rolling. I could almost taste the peppermint and honey tea from brunch soured in my stomach.

The activity onstage drew my panicked eyes. Landon, in his own world, beating his kit. Gage, hanging back behind Rattler’s vocalist, shredding his axe. His eyes were on me, and when I saw this, he held my gaze, silently instilling strength and grit into me. The band was on the last verse of the chorus.

After a solo tail from Gage, Rattler’s set would end. Gage would announce me. And then I’d step before that seasonal city comprising tens of thousands of music fans.

The solo tail began.

Turning away from the stage, I shook out the bag and crouched with it to my lips. I hadn’t eaten anything except a piece of dry toast earlier this morning along with the tea. Apparently, it and the water I’d sipped on all day had turned to acid. In three heaves, my stomach emptied, and I shivered when my teeth tapped together with a chalky feel. A bottle of water appeared in front of my face. Gratefully, I cleansed my mouth before securing the bag closed with the glue strip. I wasn’t sure who took the trash from my hand, as I was too embarrassed to look up.

The music had stopped at some point while I was puking up my guts. Amid the screams, shouts, and whistles of the masses, I registered one bitter hiss from just above my head.

“Bitch!”

The pairs of shoes storming around me were very familiar. I’d tripped on them day in and day out on the tour bus. Surging to my feet, I glanced around, but only the backs of Landon’s two original bandmates’ heads were quickly disappearing down the stairs. One song is what they were forced to strike from their set to make room for me. Obviously, it had been one too many.

“…I think you’ll know her… Scarlette Rose!” The introduction.

Gage’s dark eyes were on me, and I had the feeling he’d been watching since well before he shouted my name into the sea of faces. His arm was stretched toward me, his hand open in an invitational beckon. As if my body was possessed by a veteran rock star, my legs morphed from rubber to steel, confidently carrying me toward him. Three steps in, I ripped the hat from my head and tossed it back to the stage wings, uncaring where it landed. A flick of my wrist sent the rose sailing into the sea of faces below, and I waved with the now empty hand.

From the earpiece, for my ears alone, came, “testing, testing…”

“Two, three, four.” I answered as cued in rehearsal earlier.

“And… You’re on.”

And I knew from then on, I was miked up. Anything I said would carry through the sound system unless I hit the little button on one side of the earbuds.

The audience reception to my appearance was deafening. Gage’s finger went to his earpiece, pressing the privacy button as he leaned close to my ear. “You’re beautiful, Scar.” My hand was in his, and he raised our clasp above our heads. “Let’s do this shit.” He let go of my hand and his earpiece, and his fingers began to dance on the strings of his guitar.

He had to loop the intro three times before the crowd calmed enough for me to begin.

Slam. Slam
. My pulse in my ear was deafening. I clutched the strings of my phantom guitar, and my voice, although it initially wavered, segued in right on time. The drums kicked in, and I was momentarily thrown, as Landon hadn’t joined us in rehearsal.

The first verse was ending when I felt it.

A buzz of energy swirled around me, its warmth sinking like sunshine on a spring day into my limbs, relaxing my vocal cords, and drawing the song from my lungs.

In my version of my father’s cover, instead of playing the bridge, I’d substituted a rest and hummed what had originally been a lyric line. The variation had come about spontaneously late one night before the documentary clip when Gage was drilling the song into me. At the time, the truth was my inexperience caused problems with the chord change. It worked with the song as the verse was sung as a man, and substituting woman in the lyrics broke the smoothness of the melody. Jax had been enthusiastic about keeping it that way through recording. Jax had flown in, arriving in time for rehearsal and had after one listen to Gage humming along with me encouraged that version for tonight’s performance.

The second I reached that part, and Gage and I began the hum, I experienced confusion. It was a few seconds before I realized the vague distortion I was picking up was the audience was humming it! Thousands of voices carried to the starry heavens above and tapered off as Gage picked up the instrumental, the drums pattered again, and I was off to the chorus.

When the song ended and the accolades began, the energy rivaled an electrical storm. A breeze blew my hair about my face, and the fine hairs of my neck stood. The rush was like nothing I’d ever felt. No moment in my life equaled it. No synthetic substance in my limited experience had induced near the level of pleasure. In fact, if this flash in time was a drug, I’d be strung out as surely as anyone with chemical addictions.

I turned to Gage for his reaction, but he wasn’t there. It was then I saw he was hanging back and I had center stage to myself.

“Thank you.” The screams and whistles continued. My gratuitous words and humble bow of my head came naturally. “Thank you. You’re great!”

I looked behind to Gage again and saw him give a polite wave toward the crowd as he exited. Landon was already gone. With a last ‘thank you,’ I reached for my necklace, holding it as I sprinted offstage.

A floating sensation combined with the world whirling around. Gage was smiling up into my face. Laughing, I braced my hands on his shoulders. “That was incredible!” I breathed as he gave me one last whirl and set me on my feet.

“Told you!” He grinned.

“Scarla! You were amazing. You
are
amazing!” Arms snaked around my waist and neck, and my eyes widened taking in the fact that Colt was here.

Just beyond the wall that hid us, the crowd was still wild as if coaxing an encore. But of course, I had none… this time. With that thought, I realized I was accepting a fate that had always been inevitable.

Ivy moved in for a hug, and when Colt backed off, I caught his brief, subtle movement. A caress down Ivy’s bare back and the pocket of her jeans.

As a group, we herded down the stairs and into a tent that I soon found was Fire Flight’s lounging area while they waited for their set to begin.

My senses remained attuned to any interaction between my best friend and Gage’s best friend. Surely, in a moment of delirium I had imagined what I’d seen.

“Is Bradley with you?” Sipping the drink Gage had put in my hand, I tried to sound casual as I grilled Ivy.

“He’s on location, as usual.” Ivy twisted a wry smile.

Colt and Gage were within earshot, and I was sure I didn’t imagine the ripple across Colt’s expression when hearing the name of Ivy’s on-again, off-again live-in lover.

“You rocked it, Scarla!” Like Colt, Seth still mostly referred to me as Scarla as that’s how I’d been introduced and known to them initially. Recognizing the teen’s voice, I turned in time to connect a high five and then a fist bump with his outstretched hand.

Directly behind Seth, his mother strolled in his wake. Caroline wore a knockout sexy rocker chick dress—and wore it well. At times like this, it was impossible to believe she was the mother of a teenager. She came directly to me and enfolded me in a hug. “You blew them away, girl!”

During the next hour, while we waited for Fire Flight to take the stage, I noticed after an initial hello, Caroline and Ivy stayed on opposite sides of the room. Colt greeted his son and soon disappeared, presumably to his dressing room.

Jax stopped by with a bottle of champagne and praises, but explained he had to catch a plane directly back to The States. I was flattered he’d come personally, as busy as I knew he was. Over the last couple of weeks, I’d figured out I had accidentally filtered Jewelstone emails so that they never landed in my inbox. This is why I hadn’t known of my song charting.

Gage seemed to be having a good time reconnecting with his old bandmates, and I even caught him laughing it up with the new guitarist who had taken Colt’s place so Colt could move into Gage’s place. I hung out for a bit, but after almost an hour of having to juggle between Ivy and Caroline, I whispered to Gage that I was retiring to my own dressing room until Fire Flight’s show.

It wasn’t until much later in the wee hours of the morning when all hell broke loose.

“Hey.” Gage pulled me along with him
and I followed his lead when he began to dance. Only a casual, fraternal hand rested on my waist.

“Hey.” I smiled, knowing I had been wearing a goofy grin all evening. Sometimes, like now, it widened.

Fire Flight’s after-show party had thus far been insane. And I didn’t mind secretly adopting it as my own proxy after-show party. The private lounge on one of the top floors of the hotel had a magical view of the city lights, and mutually, we steered toward a window, looking out as we danced.

“We’ve got a room here. If that’s cool.”

Our rooms with Rattler were booked in a hotel a half hour away.

I nodded, enjoying the thump of my heart. Celebrating privately with Gage would be the perfect end to the best night of my life. “How did you manage that?”

“Fire Flight always books a whole floor so it can be locked off. This usually leaves extra rooms. I asked Ben if I could have one.”

“What about Jimal?”

“No threesomes tonight.”

“Tonight?” Mockingly, I arched my brows.

“Ever.” The word was a firm growl.

It was easy to agree to a night in a room together away from Rattler, especially with him looking at me like that. I never gave another thought to my bodyguard. I was learning. Jimal would do whatever it was bodyguards did when their clients decided on a whim to hookup and bang their brains out all night.

We danced some more. Had a few more drinks. And then I looked for Ivy to say goodbye. When my friend was nowhere to be found, I retrieved the champagne I had stashed with the bartender. Gage seemed to be in the same dilemma with finding Colt. Caroline had completely opted out of the party, probably making sure her teen was safe in a room instead of sneaking into his father’s band’s party.