The Loneliest Tour (2 page)

“
Jesus,
man,
”
Jett said.
“
You
’
re acting like I
’
m
some burnout.
”

“
No,
”
Harry said.
“
We
’
re
not treating you like that at all, Jett. It
’
s
pretty simple. You have to stay out of the light for a few minutes to let this
die out. Willow Son has to keep the press going. There
’
s a lot swelling right now and we can
’
t let it fail.
”

“
Damn
straight,
”
Portis said.
“
You fuck up my money
…”

“
Nothing
is going to happen,
”
Jett
said.
“
I swear on it. You
want me to hide in a church basement for addiction meetings, I
’
m there. You want me in a studio
to hide there for a night and record guitar parts, I
’
m there. Whatever you want.
”

“
Good,
”
Colby said.
“
That
’
s not the only reason we
’
re all here together.
”

“
No?
”
Jett asked.

Harry was the first to give up a
grin, then Colby with that smartass smirk of his.

Jett looked at Portis, who was stone
faced, shaking his head.
“
I
don
’
t know why I give a
damn. I guess the music is just that good.
”

“
Yeah?
So what else is happening?
”

Portis leaned in.
“
I
’
m
putting up a good chunk of change. I
’
m
sending you out on the road.
”

“
No
way.
”

“
Yeah,
”
Portis said.
“
I don
’
t like it. But Harry has put his personal promise
to me that it will be fine. I
’
ve
got dates and an opening band for you. Don
’
t
mess it up. Please, I
’
m
begging you. Christ, I don
’
t
beg people for anything. But you guys are just too good.
”

“
No
need to beg,
”
Jett said.
“
I
’
m
fine. It was a bad decision on my part. Who is the band we
’
re playing with?
”

“
Ever
hear of Crutch Fail? They
’
re
from San Diego. I
’
m
personally launching them. As a favor to a friend.
”

“
A
favor band,
”
Jett said.
“
Doesn
’
t sound very promising.
”

“
They
’
re solid. You will help them.
That
’
s my goal with it.
”

“
We
’
re babysitting a band?
”
Jett asked. He looked right at
Colby.

“
Don
’
t look at it that way,
”
Harry said.

Jett still stared at Colby.

“
Jett,
you listening?
”
Harry
asked.

“
I
’
m always listening.
”

“
Good,
”
Harry said.
“
This is a chance to get out on
the road. The finances are in place and make perfect sense with the two bands
under the same label. Nobody is babysitting anyone.
”

“
If
anything,
”
Portis said,
“
you should be the one getting
watched carefully.
”

Jett gritted his teeth.

“
Easy,
”
Colby whispered.

Jett sat back and turned his head,
staring out the window.

You should be the one getting
watched carefully.

Jett swallowed hard.

At least he was about to get back
on the road and tour. That meant no distractions. No matter what.

(2)

Masie hurried to try and catch a
ride from one of the other dancers. It seemed like a dumb job to try and get,
but it was money. Definitely not the dream she had of touring the world with a
ballet, or living in New York City with the bustling city, bright lights, and
constant entertainment.

Music brought her to California and
it basically kept her there. She had danced for music videos, which really didn
’
t have much appeal anymore. She
had toured with a few semi-big name artists, but those were always week to week
gigs. Either the artist got bigger and went for something bigger in terms of the
tour, or they fizzled out, which meant Masie
’
s
job fizzled out too. There was one time she did get to perform on live TV
during a music award show, but she had been put in the back right corner and
nobody saw her. She even DVR
’
d
the show and all she saw was her hair flipping a few times and that was it.

With her bag slung over one
shoulder, she ran down the hall, biting on a hair tie, trying to pull her hair
back. She was still a bit of a sweaty mess, working with some band called
Crutch Fail. They were okay - more loud and full of image than talent. The
beats were doable though. They could be danced to. Then again, it seemed the
lead singer - a guy named Colin - wanted Masie and the other few dancers to
basically act like strippers. Not that there was any shame in that line of
work, but Colin
’
s fantasy
of having a stripper kind of dance was not what Masie would have done, if she
were a stripper. There were plenty of opportunities for that, but Masie wanted
to keep life this way. A small apartment. A few friends. And that forever
hopeful dream of getting the chance to do something bigger.

Hell, this gig with Crutch Fail was
the biggest offer she
’
d had
in months. When she wasn
’
t
getting gigs she taught dance at a small school for girls. The job was crazy
fun, even if it didn
’
t pay
all that much. It was something. It was experience. And the woman who ran it -
Ann Marie - was a sweetheart. The second Masie uttered a word about the chance
to dance with Crutch Fail, Ann Marie took her off the schedule, gave her a week
’
s entire pay, and told her to
practice and dance.

Masie opened the door to the back
of the building, finally getting her knotty hair pulled back and out of her
face. She looked left, right, and sighed. The other girls had left already. She
put her hands to her hips and groaned.

“
Freaking
Colin,
”
she whispered.

The dumb lead singer had made a few
off the record comments about how he and Masie were going to practice one on
one after everyone left.

Yeah, right, like Masie was going
to get involved with that mess.

Not again
…

Masie checked her cell and bit her
lip. She could call Ian for a ride, but that would imply certain things. Any
favor from him came with a price. Then again, if it wasn
’
t for Ian, she wouldn
’
t
have gotten this gig. Ian
’
s
brother was was married to the sister of a guy named Portis, who ran a big shot
record label. That
’
s what
really sold the thing to Masie. There was always an opportunity to dance for a
rock band. Gosh, there had been times when she had received invitations for
private parties. One night only, a thousand dollars, all for the wild rockstar
life.

But with Portis, it was the real
deal. He had contacts far into the world of music. Masie dreamed of one day
meeting Portis, or having him appreciate her talents and recommending her to
someone else. After all, isn
’
t
that how many people
’
s big
breaks happened?

Hating to make the call, Masie found
Ian
’
s contact in her phone.

They had literally gone on one
date, if that
’
s what you
could call it. It was her, him, and three other people, just out for some
drinks and casual talk and stuff. Most of it was business. Yeah, they went to a
nightclub and yeah, there was music. And, yeah, Masie danced a little. With
Ian. But did that all of a sudden sign some kind of contract for a
relationship? Because that
’
s
exactly what Ian thought they had.

Masie hated to tear into him and
tell him to leave her alone because she feared he
’
d
go to his brother who would then go to Portis and she
’
d be fired. She could be replaced, easily. She was
unknown and had no respect from anyone.

Maybe not even from myself
…

When Ian didn
’
t answer, she reached into her
bag for her keys. Her car was still at the studio where the dancers had met to
listen to Crutch Fail play live. That was at the band
’
s request, not Masie
’
s.
Her keys were in her other bag, in the studio. Right on the floor, next to the
couch in one of the sitting rooms.

“
Damn,
”
Masie whispered.

She grabbed her phone and called
for a cab. It was too late to bother anyone else. She really wasn
’
t in a good part of the city
either. As crazy as it sounded, she was better off staying put at the back of
the building, hiding in the dark, waiting for the cab.

One came after a few minutes, a
wave of relief washing over her. She really didn
’
t
like being alone and she definitely didn
’
t
want to be alone at the back of a building that had graffiti on it.

In the cab, she gave the address to
the driver and she was off to the studio.

Arriving, she paid for the cab
ride, and exited the vehicle. She walked to the back door and pulled on it. For
a second, panic rippled through her entire body.

Why would a recording studio be
open this late?

That meant she
’
d have to call Ian and deal with
his assumed relationship status.

To Masie
’
s surprise though, the door opened.

She took to the steps and climbed
to the second floor landing. The walls were dark and narrow in the stairwell.
They freaked Masie out, coming from the woman who stood in a dark alley just a
little bit ago, waiting for a cab to come pick her up.

When she opened the next door,
another surprise waited.

The faint sound of music.

Masie cringed as she gently shut
the door. She worried now that the band had come back to the studio. And with
the band always came the possibility of Ian. Then again, with Ian always came
the possibility of meeting Portis.

Shaking her head, hating herself
for thinking such a thought, Masie moved down the hallway.

The walls were complete with
different albums. Gold, Platinum, and plenty of framed pictures with famous
musicians and bands, all standing with Portis, complete with big smiles and
bigger autographs.

Masie crept slowly, not wanting to
interrupt the music. The greater truth was that she hoped she could sneak to
get her other bag - with her damn keys - and then sneak out without being seen.

Unless Portis wa
s here.

After a few more steps, she paused.

It wasn
’
t Crutch Fail in the studio.

No way in hell.

It wasn
’
t loud, annoying rock music playing.

It was soft, tender. A clean guitar
with a soothing sound. It was almost like a lullaby.

Masie caught herself walking beyond
the door to the room where her bag was. Her fingers outreached, gently touching
the walls. The sound was beautiful. She didn
’
t
know much about music, not like a true musician would, but she knew bits and
pieces from studying dance. She felt the music start to change, like a scale
change or something. From the echoed upbeat feel to a much slower and darker
piece. Almost haunting. It was actually a little scary to hear with her
standing in a hallway all alone. The music reverberated inside her body, up to
her chest, smacking her right in the heart.

For a brief second, Masie lost her
breath.

It was that good. That pure.
That
real.

It was a far cry from the stuff she
had been dancing to with Crutch Fail. Not that Crutch Fail was the worst band
in the world, but it was more or less the lead singer that bothered Masie.
Freaking Colin was a pig.

But this music right now
…
it chased everything away.

The last note rang and held steady.

Masie crept forward some more and
got to the doorway. The door was open, telling her that whoever was in there
wasn
’
t recording. The last
thing she needed to do was bust in on someone recording something and mess it
up.

As she crossed part of the
threshold she saw someone with her back to her. A leather guitar strap around
his shoulder, a dark blue t-shirt that hugged a wide and sexy body. The t-shirt
ended right at his belt, hinting at showing skin. It was all insane and stupid
but Masie was frozen.

The guy stepped forward, his foot hitting
some kind of box and button thing on the floor, and the guitar suddenly came to
life again, but with a different sound. That crunchy, rock n
’
roll sound. Masie knew it was
called
gain
because she
’
d
heard the word from Colin a hundred times.