Revelry (Taint #1) (3 page)

I’ve known Zed since we were five years old. Back then he was a weird looking, wiry little kid with platinum blond hair and gangly arms. Zed and his brother, Leif, were permanent fixtures at our house. They grew up without a dad, and had a mum who was too busy getting high with her drumming circle friends to pay much attention to her unruly kids.

The four of us would play for hours in our rumpus room. We had one of those electronic four-piece band set-ups: a synthesised piece-of-shit drum kit, guitar, keyboard, and a microphone set. Zed would man the drums. Nobody ever got near his drums. I played guitar, Leif was on keys, and much to everyone’s dismay, Debbie would sing.

As soon as she was old enough, I convinced Mum and Dad to buy her a bass and she played right up until the time she was seventeen. Then it’s as if her girl switch just flipped one day and suddenly her Fender went untouched because she might break a nail. She can be a ball-busting pain in the arse sometimes, but however self-involved she could be, she never missed sitting in on a practice, or a gig. The fact that she involves herself in my life to a point where she could easily be doing Vanessa’s job with her eyes closed, only makes me proud of my little sister.

Drumming was like a natural talent to Zed. Sometimes you’re born with shit like that pumping through your veins—other times you have to work at it. I guess I never really had to work at it either, but I lack the kind of musical genius Zed possesses. He can pick up any instrument and make it his bitch, even the ones he’s never seen before. And yeah, sometimes he’s a downright prick. He’s an arsehole on tour, he’ll prank you at every fucking turn, and the drugs only serve to make him even more obnoxious than normal, but if he ever walked away, I’d be walking right alongside him.

Jesus Christ, how much did I drink last night?
I feel like I ate a fucking Hallmark card and now my head is spewing sentiment all over the place.

“Look it’s not that Harbour Records doesn’t trust you. We’re thrilled with the band’s success so far, it’s just that—”

“That you don’t trust us.” Zed raps out an even faster beat on his knees this time. He laughs, but I know him well enough to know he’s getting antsy, which is always dangerous ground.

“Why don’t you tell us exactly what you need from us, and then we can all get back to enjoying our day?” I lean back in my chair and sip the hot cup of coffee in my hands.

“We want to push the album launch forward by three weeks. We’d like to launch while you’re on the US leg of the tour. We’re thinking a party in Vegas.”

“That’s impossible,” Levi says.

“Nothing is impossible,” Guidelli replies, with the expression of a man who knows he holds our balls in his hands. His smile grates on me. It might just be the alcohol soaking my blood, but my fist is itching to have a play date with his face.

“If we get you in the studio soon, we believe we can have the last two songs finalised by Monday,” Vanessa says.

“The fuck?” Zed stands and begins pacing. One thing he hates is being forced to create, but I guess it’s something we just have to deal with now that we’ve sold our souls to the record company.

“Give us ’til Friday, and we’ll have three more songs for you,” I say.

Everyone looks at me.

“Dude, are you fucking crazy?” Levi asks

“Can’t be done, man.” Ash shakes his head and stands too.

“Yes, it can. I got some new material I’ve been working on.”

“Since when?” Zed asks.

“Since a while ago.” I look over at Debbie, who glares back as if she thinks I’ve finally lost my mind.

“You sure about this?” Zed whispers in an aside. “That’s a pretty big fucking claim, man. I’m gonna need to blow a whole wad of cash on a visit to Greyson.”

Greyson is Zed’s other dealer. Leif deals on the side, prescription drugs and pot mostly, but Grayson keeps Zed stocked in the heavier shit that Leif can’t provide. Zed’s about to make Greyson a very happy man, because we’re all going to be working our arses off to get three more songs finished before the week is done.

I look up at my oldest friend, and hope that I’m conveying everything without saying very much. “I need this.”

Zed nods to me and says, “We’re in.”

“You don’t wanna run that shit by us first?” Levi asks.

“Nope,” Zed says, and goes back to drumming his hands on the tops of his thighs.

“Come on, guys. It’s just three more songs.”

Ash hesitates. “Yeah, I’m in,” he says, and then looks over at Levi.

He shakes his head. “Whatever, man. You’re supplying the booze, though.”

“Book the studio till Friday and we’ll give you three of the best motherfucking songs ever written.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Guidelli says.

“There’s just one more thing.” Vanessa gives me a look that says I’m not going to like a single second of this. “We’ve been discussing the name, and we feel The Glorious Daddies isn’t the right angle for us. We’re strongly suggesting a name change.”

“Oh, hell no,” Ash says quietly.

Levi shakes his head. “That’s rock suicide.”

“It’s not negotiable,” Vanessa says.

“We’ve already sold out shows throughout the US. You don’t think it’s going to get a little confusing for people when they show up to a Glorious Daddies concert and find they’re seeing someone else?” I say.

Vanessa smiles at me as if I’m a child she only just tolerates. I don’t know why, but I find I like pushing her buttons. “We would re-launch the band beforehand.”

“Of course you would,” I mutter.

“What does a re-launch entail, exactly?” Levi asks,

“We’d throw a party, roll out a new line of merchandise and give everyone a first taste of the new album. Throw in a couple of press junkets before you leave on tour. We’ll be in touch with your road manager, too. We want the tour to reflect the new image.”

I run my fingers through my hair, trying like hell to ease some of the pressure of the massive hangover I’m currently enduring. There are moments in your life that define you. The first time you accomplish something you can be proud of; the first time a person pushes you too far and you make the decision to fight or to walk away; the first time you learn you’re going to be a parent. By comparison, this moment is insignificant. But to my band-mates, this is the equivalent of a blowtorch to the balls.

Vanessa looks to me, as if I need to get my shit together and pull rank on my guys.

“Fine,” I say. “Boys, how does Taint sound?”

Zed makes a show of mulling it over. He knows why I suggested it, because everything touched by a seven-figure deal becomes tainted in one way or another. He’s really much smarter than people give him credit for. “I like it.”

“You’re actually on board with this?” Levi asks him.

Zed shrugs. “It does have a ring to it.”

“Fine. Whatever,” Levi says, and prowls the room like a caged tiger. He’s barely keeping his shit contained, but no matter how unhappy he is he’s not going to walk away from everything we’ve dreamed of for the last eight years.

Ash shakes his head and gives me an impatient glare. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Great,” Vanessa says. “We’ll have some papers drawn up. We’ll need all of your signatures again; I’ll just have it sent to the studio this afternoon.”

“You’re putting us in there today?” Levi asks, folding his arms over his chest.

“Time is money, gentlemen. You understand.” Guidelli pushes his chair back and makes to leave as Vanessa presses a button on the intercom. I stand up too, because I’m ready to go fucking crazy from the pounding in my head.

“Ali, I need a coffee. Would you mind?”

A quiet female voice floods through the crackling speaker. “Not at all, Miss Robinson.”

It strikes me as odd that Vanessa is sitting on her ample arse, not three feet from the table with everything she needs to fix her own cup, and yet she still requires her lackey to come and do it for her.

I really hate this bitch
. I know deals are a dime a dozen to people like her, but I hate being fucking railroaded.

“Wait,” I say, before Guidelli and his team of lawyers can leave. “We have a few demands of our own.”

“Demands?” Guidelli asks with a laugh. His eyes tell me he’s not really amused though. “Well, let’s hear them, gentlemen.”

Just then a frazzled redhead juggling a stack of paperwork and packages bursts into the room. No sooner is she in than she’s tripping over her own feet and throwing shit at mine. Packages land on my boots, and one hits me in the shin. For some reason, Zed finds her mortification hilarious. He snorts and then claps me on the shoulder. “She’s falling at your feet, Coop. This one’s like a super-charged fangirl.”

“Shut up, fuckstick,” I mumble, and then before my brain catches up I say, “Her. We want her.”

“I’m sorry,” Vanessa says with a laugh. “What do you mean you want her?”

“I need a personal assistant.”

“Um, hello?” Debbie says. “You already have an assistant, moron.”

“We need another. Leif’s been promoted to a roadie; we need someone to run errands.”

“Is Miss Jones here your only demand?” Guidelli says, emphasising the demand part of that question, as if he thinks it’s fucking endearing, or something.

“No, we want an extra five per cent on royalties,” I say, meeting his shrewd gaze squarely.

“Yeah, and we want a tour bus with our name on it and orange flames up the side,” Zed adds, looking all too pleased with himself.
Sometimes I wish he were a mute.

Guidelli chuckles, and his jowls wobble in time with his enormous gut. “A tour bus with flames?”

I glance down at the beauty at my feet.
Fuck
. Seeing her on her knees, staring up at me is causing my dick to swell. Only when I look again she’s not gazing at me with the same level of adoration. Her big whiskey-coloured eyes aren’t softened with lust the way most women’s gazes are around me. She’s actually pissed. Her cheeks flame bright pink as she gathers her shit together and then she stands and turns her back to me.

“I was hired as a personal assistant and receptionist for Miss Robinson. I’m not sure being lackey to a bunch of rock wannabes is really in my job description,” she points out.

The entire room goes silent.

Guidelli’s face turns puce. “Your job description, Miss Jones, is whatever we make it. Assuming you want to hold onto it, that is?”

She sets her packages down on the table and folds her arms, pushing up her full tits and giving the entire room an eyeful, though I suspect she doesn’t know it. “You’d fire me for turning down a job that’s not part of my description? You can’t be serious?”

“Deadly,” he bites out. “And before you embarrass yourself further, Miss Jones, remember it’s very difficult to get anyone to take a chance on you when you’ve walked out on the biggest recording house in the industry.”

I really should say something here. Stand up for her, say I was just kidding, and that we’re not really interested in having someone around who is not interested in being a part of our team. In fact, I have no idea why I even suggested her as one of our demands. It’s ridiculous. I don’t have any fucking idea what I was thinking.

“Look, its fine,” I say. “We don’t need another assistant.”

“Finally. Thank you.” Debbie stands. Her tight-lipped expression tells me I’m going to hear all about it on the way to the studio.

“Miss Jones, clear out your desk.”

“You’re firing me?” she asks, exasperated.

“No, we’re keeping you on as personal assistant to
Taint
.” He smiles as he emphasises our new name. “You’re to make yourself available to these fine young gentlemen.”

“Sorry, looks like you’re stuck with the rock wannabes for a little bit longer. Don’t worry, Red. Levi here will take real good care of you,” Levi taunts. He licks his lips and all my muscles clench with tension.
What the fuck?
I’ve got enough fucking problems with the fairer sex, I don’t need my cock all twisted up over another redhead.

And then it hits me. Ali looks just like Holly. She doesn’t have freckles, and she hides those incredible eyes behind a half-arsed attempt at a fringe, and she’s a little bit taller, but there are definitely similarities there.

Panic roils in my gut. I can’t have this girl around me twenty-four seven. I’ll go fucking mad. I have enough shit reminding me of exactly what I lost.

“We don’t need her, really. She’s just gonna be a burden,” I say.

Ali turns to me and I think I see relief in her gaze, but then Levi chuckles, drawing my attention away from the girl. Levi’s studying me with his arms folded over his chest. He’s pushing me to my limit because he’s clearly pissed at me for letting them railroad us. I shake my head, but he just laughs and says, “No, we really do need her. I mean, Deb, you know how much I love you—we all do. But sometimes you just need another girl to get the job done.”

“Levi, honey, your ego is so huge it’d take every woman in the country to ‘get the job done’.”

“Baby, you’re confusing my ego with my cock.” He winks. “Let’s take a vote. Who here thinks we need the pretty Red?”