On the Rocks Page 14

  And now he was completely off limits. It didn’t matter why. What mattered was that I had to get my mind off him immediately—before I decided to go back to my sexing and drugging rock-and-roll ways.

  It was time to pull my band back together.

  Unfortunately, the universe had every intention of blocking me at every turn. Things looked good at first when I called Brandon, because he said to name the date and he was all in. Jake, though… After we chatted a bit and he teased me about my marriage, he said, “Look, love, I need to tell you now. I’ve, um…I’ve gotten into modeling.”

  “Modeling?” He had a nice body and he was tall. He was definitely a great candidate.

  “Yeah. And I’m really starting to make good money.” We were both quiet for a few moments until he said, “And let me tell you—I hook up with new people every night, beautiful people, adventurous people. I have to follow my heart, Kyle…and so I just don’t have any time to be in the band anymore.”

  Crazy man. “I wish you the best, my friend.” And that was true but shit. Now I needed to find a new bassist—and calling my buddy CJ was off limits. But I called Brandon back, because he hadn’t disappeared off the scene like I had while being buried in my depressive phase. And then I called Brian who also promised to put out the feelers.

  Mollie next.

  She hemmed and hawed and said that, yes, I needed to get back out there, because there was always competition, always someone out there ready to topple me down (and that made me realize that I hadn’t been obsessing over Liz’s success lately, not since I’d experienced a little of my own. The big time, though, was still elusive to me, and I knew I had to get out there to nab it). I sensed hesitation from Mollie and said, “Okay, there’s obviously an elephant in the room. What the hell’s going on, Mollie? What aren’t you telling me?”

  I heard her sigh on the other end of the line. “I think this is a conversation for you, me, and the agent you’ve refused to get.”

  “Why? What the fuck’s going on?”

  There was a ridiculously long pause before she finally said, “Your label dumped you.”

  “What do you mean dumped me? And why? This album did way better than the first one.”

  “You don’t want to know, Kyle.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  She was quiet, and if I had had the ability, I would have jumped through the phone line and shaken her shoulders until she spoke. Instead, I had to wait. “Pepper J.”

  Oh, that little skanky whore. “What about Pepper J?”

  I heard Mollie sigh. “They signed Pepper J on as a solo act. She’s got a huge following and can basically sell her own shit. Well…she demanded that they drop you. At least, that’s the rumor.”

  “That’s bullshit. And what did I ever do to her?”

  “I just assumed it’s because she was dating CJ for a while.”

  My ears started ringing. “What? When?”

  “Right after you got married. Did you miss that?”

  It felt like the floor was dropping out from underneath me. Mollie’s statement had me reeling, bringing back old feelings, doubts, and maybe even a little insecurity. I had no way of knowing if CJ and Pepper J had had a previous relationship (despite his protests back then when they’d been doing that supposed publicity shoot) and then rekindled it, bringing it out in the open when I married Brian, or if my marriage was like a catalyst, making CJ decide to go for it. Either way, it was shitty. And I kind of understood.

  Goddammit, I had to ratchet down my emotions. I was angry and hurt, both stemming from the same reaction, and I just wanted to beat the ever-loving shit out of something. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. What I needed to do was be constructive, but right now, I was almost blinded with anger. I could barely see straight.

  I had to rely on Mollie. She was always rational…to a fault. I ignored her question. Fuck, yes, I’d missed that CJ had dated that stupid little pop tart, and I didn’t want to give the idea any more energy. I had my career to salvage. “So what the hell do we do?”

  “We do what I’ve always told you to do. We get you an agent.”

  I could tell she was hovering on another answer. “And?”

  “And you start listening to me. All the time.” I started to say something else when she said, “Stop being so damned stubborn, Kyle. You know the music—that’s your forte. Let me and your agent take care of what we know how to do. Stop thinking in the Peter mentality. The man is a dinosaur and didn’t do shit the way it should have been done. It’s a miracle the Vagabonds ever got noticed. But you did, and we’re running with it. Now it’s time for you to focus on what you do best and let the people you pay do the rest. Okay?”

  God, I hated when Mollie got bossy, but I realized that that too was an emotional reaction. Her words had value…and it was time for me to grow the fuck up and listen. Today was a day of learning. “Okay.”

  See? Almost simple.

  * * *

  Mollie went on an agent hunt and presented me with three possibilities. We wound up going with an agency who handled other metal acts, so I felt like I was in good hands. They could sign me first, without an album, but they wanted to wait until I had some demo tracks for an upcoming album—at least one. I was ready to tell them that was fine until Mollie, a woman who was turning out to be a hell of a manager, said, “No, you won’t. You’ll sign her now. This is fucking Kyle Summers, lead guitarist of the Vagabonds and an amazing solo act in her own right. She’s already sold thousands of albums—and she’s even been married to the bassist of one of the biggest metal acts out there. People fucking know her and you’ll find her a good label and deal worthy of her now or we walk.”

  The man and woman we were meeting with blinked a couple of times, which I found amusing, because I was pretty damn sure they’d heard the F word before. They were too Hollywood to have not been exposed…hell, to have not been a target before.

  They acquiesced.

  As we were walking out of their building, Mollie said, “Now go make your damn album, Summers. These guys can’t do shit for you without it.”

  I was really beginning to love this woman.

  The biggest problem was I had no bassist. My personal life had, at one time, swarmed with them. The love of my life (yes, when I admitted he had been—still was—I knew it was true) was an amazing bass player and my former husband was as well. So why the hell couldn’t I find one for my band?

  I touched base with Brandon and he said he’d located a couple bassists looking for a band, but neither guy was good enough. He promised to keep looking. Brian, when I gave him a holler, said he too had his ear to the ground.

  But nothing solid…which meant I had to do something I really didn’t want to.

  Or maybe I did and it was the perfect excuse.

  I stared at my phone off and on for three days until I decided I had to contact the one guy I really shouldn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I PUT IT off and put it off, because I was afraid. Of what? Well, there were plenty of things. Rejection was a biggie. Finding out that I’d maybe hurt CJ was another. Learning that I’d wrecked our relationship for all time was a definite possibility, and I didn’t want to find out.

  I would eventually anyway, though, so I just needed to get it over with—rip off the Band-Aid, so to speak.

  That was my mentality the morning I picked up the phone and shot a text to CJ without even giving it a second thought.

  Until after I’d clicked Send and couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  I’d kept it simple. Hey. I hope you’re doing well. I’m looking for a bassist and wondered if you could recommend someone.

  A day went by. And another. And another.

  Maybe he’d changed his number. More than likely, though, he had blocked me or was ignoring me. Then I considered calling but thought better of it. If he wanted nothing to do with me, having him reject a phone call would add insult to injury.

  So when I got a text back
four days later, I was shocked.

  Hmm. You’re looking for a bassist and you immediately thought of me.

  Shit. I couldn’t tell if his text was flirting or angry or snarky or… I had no fucking clue.

  I had to be cool and respond accordingly, no matter how his tone might seem. Jesus. Talk about nerve-wracking. So I thought about it. For hours. I would type a response and delete it, and I did that over and over and over. Finally, I responded with this: Who else WOULD I think of? Hardcore metal bassist = Seige Slavin. I followed it with a stupid smiley emoticon…and immediately regretted it, but I’d already clicked Send again.

  My stomach was in knots.

  An hour later, CJ texted again. What do you want?

  Oh, hell. That too could have been rude or just a question. Fuck. Why had I bothered? I was gnawing on my bottom lip, agonizing over how to word my next text when the phone rang and made me jump. I almost dropped the damn thing.

  It was CJ.

  Should I answer it or let it go to voicemail?

  By the third ring, I picked it up. I couldn’t not answer, but I steeled myself for what I was sure was going to be ire, especially based on his last text. Before I could even pretend or try to make nice, CJ said, “Are you needing someone new for your band?”

  Wow. Talk about storming the castle. Maybe he needed to practice his manners again. Of course, what did I expect? I had gotten married behind his back.

  “Yeah. Am I that obvious?”

  “Kyle, you burn through musicians like a forest fire through dead pine needles. What the hell do you do to your band members to send them running for the hills?”

  Okay, so he wasn’t grumpy or pissy. Maybe not as friendly as I would have liked, but much better than I’d expected. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Needless to say, I was not planning to tell him about my threesome with Jake and Teddy years earlier that may or may not have “sent them running.”

  “I have my suspicions.” Before I could say something in reply, he said, “Today’s your lucky day. I actually have some friends whose indie band here in the Springs just broke up. Lead singer’s girlfriend is pregnant so he wants to get a real job.” My ears perked up—I caught that CJ was still living in Colorado Springs. That was good, right? Except I was making a shitload of assumptions. “And another one of the guys was sick of it anyway. The drummer was already in a second band, but the bassist was left out in the cold. You’d want to audition him first, because he’s not like any of the guys you’ve worked with before.” If you believe in fate…well, that was what this was beginning to feel like—the perfect conditions, the perfect situation, and great timing. It was like it was meant to be.

  “That’s a bad thing?”

  “No, but you need to make an informed decision.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  An awkward silence spread out among the airwaves between us, enough that I decided to end the conversation and call it good for the moment, but then CJ said, “So…tell me about you and Zimmer.”

  I swallowed. I had known, if CJ and I ever talked again, that Brian would be the object of a conversation at some point but, for some dumb reason, I hadn’t expected it this soon. And I knew that, if I wanted to remain friends with CJ, I needed to be honest. No…it wasn’t like he was asking about things that were none of his business. I knew exactly where he was coming from, because I’d thought about his feelings almost every day since. At worst, he felt betrayed; at best, shocked. But I figured the truth lay somewhere in between. I drew in a deep breath. I wanted to keep it as light as possible, because it had the potential to get dark and depressing really fast. “Not much to tell. We…we’d been partying in Vegas, got married for some stupid reason, and decided to go ahead and give it a real shot.”

  He was quiet and I could almost feel him pondering his next words. “What would you have thought if the tables had been turned?”

  “What—you mean if you had gotten married in Vegas?”

  “Yeah.”

  “To Brian or someone else?” He started laughing then, and I felt a little relief, because I’d needed to break the tension. This conversation would have been much better held in person, but here we were, forcing it over the phone. In some ways, it was better, I supposed, because I didn’t have to see his eyes, didn’t have to know if I’d really hurt him. But I thought about his question. How would I have felt if CJ had gotten married back then when I’d married Brian? There was no question. “I…I would have been pissed.” I almost acknowledged the ugly green beast lurking in my chest and then thought better of it, because CJ had never offered to be my one and only, and being jealous implied that I felt some kind of ownership. Nope. Better to just stick with the number one emotion and go from there.

  He wasn’t content with just that answer, though. “Why?”

  My emotions were overtaking me again, and it was hard for me to think when they took over—and also difficult for me to hold my tongue. CJ ruled my heart and so I couldn’t rule my head. “Because…I thought we had something.”

  “Did we?”

  I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. I wasn’t sure where he was going with this whole thing, but my emotions were swirling—my heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to land on angry or hurt or bitter or defensive… “I kind of thought we did. We lived together for how long?”

  His voice was quiet—no judgment, no accusation, but I felt those things just the same. “Till you moved out.”

  But that…that wasn’t fair. And he should know it. “CJ, I moved out because we were never officially together to begin with!”

  He was still quiet, and I could feel something…maybe something I’d missed before. “Did I make you feel like you had to move out?”

  It had been so long and I’d felt so…used was too strong a word; unloved maybe was too, but I hadn’t felt wanted, needed, cherished. “I don’t know. I just…felt like I had to.”

  “Just for the record…I didn’t want you to.” My gut clenched and wrenched, and for what reason? It was all futile. There was nothing I could do about it. It was all recorded history. Stiff upper lip and all that stuff, right? I tried to find some words to say, but there was nothing that seemed right. And CJ continued before I could. “You’re so fucking stubborn, Kyle. You always refused to believe that I cared for you.”

  Cared. Not care. I didn’t miss that. But I was starting to feel a little incensed that he was putting the whole thing on me. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this.” I heard him sigh. “You’re the one who refused to commit.”

  More silence, until “I didn’t refuse.”

  I tried to make my voice softer, gentler. I didn’t want to have a shouting or blaming match with CJ. I wanted him to be in my life again. I’d missed him. If I had to take him as just a friend, so be it. I’d live with an empty heart, but at least he would be near. “Well, it felt that way.” I felt my heart beat hard against my chest once more and I closed my eyes, forcing the emotions back down. “But that’s in the past, CJ. I hope we can still be friends.”

  “Nothing stopping us.” That was positive and I tried to smile, not for his benefit but as a way in my own mind of making that transition.

  “Yeah. So it’s settled.”

  “It is.” His voice once more sounded light, and then I knew we could do this. “Now, let’s talk about this band of yours that refuses to stay together…”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  SO I TOOK CJ’s advice, only it wasn’t just me auditioning Wes. I had Brandon in on it too. And we loved him. Sure, the guy wasn’t a standard bass player—he liked throwing his own vibe in the mix—but we needed a little something to shake things up.

  I texted CJ and told him thanks.

  Then Mollie told me I had another agency to interview because our previous one had dropped the ball, and I was so not interested. She said that was fine “for now,” but once I had a demo, I had no choice. It was either that or go with an indie label, and “good
luck with distribution,” she said.

  Like it or not, I got her message.

  But, as I was working through the writing process with Brandon and Wes, Mollie said she wanted to have a serious talk with me about my career. “You say you want to go big, right?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  “Well, I don’t see it.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, Summers, that you’re all talk and no game.” I was on the defensive now and pretty damned close to wanting to knock out a few of her teeth. “Stop growling, Kyle. Let me explain what I mean.” We were walking through the park near my home, enjoying the drizzly rain, but I was all of a sudden feeling a little hot under the collar. Mollie was accusing me of slacking off, of being lazy about my career.

  Well, no. She wasn’t accusing me of being lazy about my music—which I wasn’t. But she was right about the fact that I took everything else for granted. I believed that, if I wrote really good music infused with passion and emotion, the fans would flock to me and realize that I was the best musician since the lyre had been created. Mollie threatened to slap me if I didn’t drop that notion immediately. “Look, Kyle, the reason why Liz is kicking ass and taking names isn’t because her music is all that.”

  “Got that right.” Damn. Down, little green monster. Mollie knew how to get my attention in a big way and it worked.

  “It’s because she knows how to market herself. She never stopped marketing herself. She has a strong social media presence. She does some kind of event in every state she visits. She has interviews constantly. She does projects with other artists. Her merch is unusual.” I was seething inside by now at not only the thought of Liz but also the way Mollie seemed to be enamored of the woman’s business prowess. “I know you don’t want to hear this, Kyle, but you could learn a thing or two from watching her.” I scowled but kept my mouth shut because I didn’t trust myself to be able to say anything constructive or relevant—or, at the very least, not catty. “Now, don’t get me wrong. Hiatuses are important—you need to wind down. And, after your last insane tour, followed by marriage (which I’m not even gonna comment on)—”