Chapter Eight
Kenna
"You've lost your mind if you think you're firing him by yourself," Gideon growls, glaring at me from the driver's seat of his truck. "Not happening."
"Gideon, it's my responsibility. It's my career." I tuck pieces of hair behind my ears, trying to talk sense into him. As soon as I mentioned firing John, he got cranky. He thinks he should be there when I do it. I think that'd just be adding fuel to the fire. This is a business decision. It needs to stay that way. "I know you want to protect me, but you can't do this for me. I have to put on my big girl undies and do it myself."
"Just because he isn't the one responsible for all of this shit doesn't mean he isn't dangerous."
"You think he's dangerous?"
"A lot of men don't handle rejection well, Kenna," he says gently. "Especially predatory assholes. If he's one of them, you don't need to be alone with him when you fire him."
"I didn't think about that," I admit, dropping my head back against the seat with a heavy sigh. "When did life get so complicated?"
"Right about the time you grew boobs. Men are idiots. They complicate everything."
I snort laughter. He's not wrong. That is about the time life got complicated. "Are you saying you're an idiot, Marine?"
"Who me? Never." He smirks. "But you haven't met my brothers. There aren't two bigger idiots on the face of this planet than those two."
I laugh again, truly amused. "I bet they're just like you."
"Hell, no they aren't. Zayne's a fucking crazy person," he swears. "And Zion's a control freak."
"You are definitely just like them then. You're a crazy person and a control freak."
"Am not," he mutters.
"You are."
He growls at me, but I see the humor in his gaze. He knows darn well he's just like his brothers. "I bet you guys drove your mom crazy. Two more boys just like you?" I whistle, shaking my head. "Lord have mercy, Marine. She must be a saint."
"Ha!" He throws his head back, booming laughter. "Ma is batshit crazy. We're all terrified of her."
"I want to meet her."
"Yeah?" He turns to look at me, his eyes bright. "You do?"
"I do." I smile at him. "She sounds awesome."
"I'll take you." He grimaces. "But not yet, Sparrow. I don't want her scaring you off until you've got my ring on your finger."
"Gideon," I groan.
"I'm serious. She knows all the terrible shit I did as a kid. I can't have her divulging that dirt until you're in love with me."
My stomach flutters. He's so confident, like he knows I'm going to fall. There isn't a doubt in his mind that we're going to end up together. It should come across as arrogance but it doesn't. It's calming, honestly. Sexy.
"You couldn't have been that bad."
"I tried to donate Zayne's body to science."
"What?" I laugh abruptly.
"The local medical school was going to take him too. Ma nearly had a heart attack when the hospital called to find out what funeral home he was at. He was spending the night with a buddy. She was mad as hell when she realized what I did." He grimaces. "I didn't know they only took dead bodies. I just wanted to get rid of him so I could have my own room."
"That's terrible!" I cry, wiping tears. "Your poor mom."
"Poor Ma? I couldn't sit down for a fucking week after Dad got ahold of me, Sparrow. He was so mad I made her cry. It was the last time I did that shit until I joined the Marines."
"Tried to donate him to science?
"Made Ma cry."
"She cried when you enlisted?"
"Yeah," he says quietly. "She didn't want any of her babies going to war."
"She sounds amazing."
"She is." He reaches for my hand, drawing it up to his lips. "She's going to love you."
"I can't wait to meet her."
"You going to let me meet your mom?"
"You want to meet my mom?" I ask, a little surprised. Aren't guys supposed to be terrified to meet the family?
"Hell, yeah. I want to know where you came from, Sparrow. I bet she's as sweet as you are."
"She is sweet." I smile. "She's a little crazy too."
"I mean, so are you and your brother, so it only stands to reason."
"We are not crazy," I gasp.
"Uh, have you met you?" He cuts his eyes at me, smirking. "You and Kane argue damn near as much as me and my brothers. And you're sassy as shit, Sparrow."
"Am not," I lie. I'm totally sassy. But that's Kane's fault. He's the one who taught me to stand up for myself and never accept less than I deserve. When you have a brother willing to go to war for you, you learn to go to war for yourself, too. And I kind of have to be sassy to put up with Kane. He's a stubborn pain in the butt. If I weren't sassy, he'd have run roughshod over me.
"You are," Gideon says, kissing my fingers again as he pulls up in front of the studio. "But I fucking love all that sass. It's sexy as hell, Kenna." He throws the truck in park before turning to me. "Wait here while I go make sure everything is okay inside."
"Gideon."
"Wait here, Kenna."
I sigh heavily and then give up, not willing to argue this with him here and now. I know he feels like he failed last night, and he's going to go overboard about everything now. But this isn't the time or place to have that argument. There will be time for later. For now, all I can do is let him check the studio.
He kills the engine and hops out, slamming his door. The truck beeps as he arms the alarm system and then jogs toward the doors. He waits until he's buzzed in and then pulls the doors open and disappears inside. He's not in there long before he jogs back toward the truck.
"Come on, Sparrow," he says, opening my door to help me out.
He ushers me inside, using his body like a shield. The walk is short, but I still feel exposed, as if someone watches from the shadows. Do they? Are they watching right now? Taking pictures? A chill goes through me at the possibility that they might be.
I don't like anything about this. It sucks all the way around.
We're buzzed into the lobby.
"Wait here," Gideon orders, pressing a kiss to my temple.
I settle onto the piano bench to wait while he clears the rest of the studio. Notes of a new song have been rolling around in my head for the last few days, so I play with them, trying to tease the melody out. By the time Gideon strides back into the lobby, I've got a pen in my hand, scribbling lines of lyrics in the notebook kept on the piano for this very thing.
I usually hate when anyone watches me try to figure out a new song, but I realize I don't mind him watching. It feels intimate and kind of nice. It's strange, but things I've always hated don't seem so uncomfortable with Gideon. Talking to him, even about deep, painful topics is easy. Letting him see who I really am is effortless. Being with him isn't hard at all. It's as instinctive as breathing.
That means something. I know it does. I can deny and fight it all I want, but the reality is that I'm already falling in love with this man. I think I started to fall the moment I met him. Last night only drove home how deep I've already fallen.
I could lose myself in him easily and not regret a second of it. I think I already am.
I just need to find a way to trust that it's not all going to come crashing down around me. And right now, that's really hard to do. Especially when it feels like the shadows have eyes and claws and fangs and they're creeping closer. The only thing they don't have is a face.
"Hey." Gideon snags my hand as I prepare to slip back into the sound booth. "I need to run these pictures to a buddy at the PD to dust for prints. Will you be okay here for an hour?"
"Yes," I say, shaking my head. He's been parked in a chair in the corner of the mixing booth all morning, watching me like a hawk. He's doing his best not to get in the way, but I think he's stressing out my producer, Soren. "I'll be fine, Marine. Go do what you need to do."
"You're sure? I can wait until later."
"Gideon. I'm not going anywhere, and no one is getting in here. Soren is here. The band is here. I'm fine."
He hesitates for a moment and then jerks his chin in a nod. "I'll be back within the hour." He drops a kiss on my forehead and then another on my lips, lingering for a moment before he pulls away.
I watch him as he slips out of the room.
"You ready?" Soren asks.
"Yeah," I whisper, clearing my throat. "Um, can we skip Whiskey River and record Traces right now? It's ready to go, right?"
"Yeah, it's ready." Soren frowns like he isn't sure why I want to record it now instead of Whiskey River when that's what the label wants to hear next, but he wasn't at the bar last night. The crowd loved Traces. I think the label needs to hear it.
And I need to sing it again, just so I can remember the way Gideon looked at me while I was belting it out to him. That's what I want to think about when I remember last night. Not those damn photos hanging all over the dressing room. But the way he looked at me on that stage and the way I felt in his arms when we got home.
Those are the memories that matter. Those are the ones that will linger long into the future. The rest will wither and fade. Darkness always does.
Thirty minutes into recording, Soren cuts the backing track. I lift my gaze to the window overlooking the mixing booth to find John standing there, staring at me.
A shiver works its way through me.
He waves me out, his expression grim.
I set my headset aside and reluctantly exit the booth.
"Hey," he says, motioning for me to follow him into the lobby.
"Hey," I say, wrapping my arms around myself. "What's up?"
"We need to talk."
"I'm trying to record, John."
"Yeah, well, your little stunt on stage last night got back to the label," he says, his tone flat. "They aren't impressed. If you want to keep your contract, I suggest you keep your boyfriend off the stage, Kenz."
I narrow my eyes, immediately annoyed by the nickname and suspicious. "Did that come from the label or from you?"
"What does that mean?"
"You know what it means, John," I say quietly. I resolved earlier not to have this conversation alone with him, but I guess he's not going to leave me any choice. At least Soren and the band are in the next room. It's better than nothing.
"No, I really don't know what you mean, Kenna," he snaps, his blue eyes icy. "Why don't you spell it out for me so I can get on with my day? I have other clients to see."
"You were angry I called him up to the stage last night. It was written all over your face," I say.
"I was disappointed you were making a fool of yourself in public," he retorts. "Have a personal life. I don't care. But you're selling a fantasy up there. You can't sell it if everyone thinks you're fucking the man you're parading around on stage, Kenz. They don't want to imagine him in your bed. They want to imagine themselves in your bed. That's what they're paying for."
I rear back, shocked. No one gets to decide for me who I get to be. "Don't speak to me that way."
"I'm your manager. It's my job to give it to you straight."
"You don't get an opinion on my sex life," I growl. "Especially not when we both know the only reason you chose to represent me is because you want to sleep with me. You want to imagine yourself in my bed."
"Oh, Kenna." He shakes his head, laughing. "Is that what you think? Good grief. Bring your head back down to reality. I'm not representing you because I want to sleep with you. I'm representing you because you're talented. You have the potential to be the next big star. You know this. I know this. The label knows this. But you aren't going to get there if you keep dragging your boyfriend onto the stage to eye-fuck him in front of everyone." He steps around me, heading for the door. "Do whatever you want on your time. But don't waste mine and don't waste the label's. Keep your boyfriend off the damn stage."
"It won't be on your time anymore, John. You're fired."
He laughs loudly, still striding toward the door. "If you want to fire me, take me to court, Kenz. Breaking our contract is going to cost more than you can afford to pay."
"Don't tempt me," I growl. "My brother is a lawyer."
"And I have a whole team of them, sweetheart." He sails out without another word.
I watch him go, dismayed and shaking. He didn't deny wanting to sleep with me. And I don't think he's going to go away that easily, either.
Crap.
Gideon and Kane are going to freak out.
"I'm going to kill him," Gideon swears, pacing holes in the carpet in the lobby.
"Not if I fucking kill him first," Kane growls down the line. "He can't just fucking decide he's not fired. It doesn't work that way."
"He seems to think it does." I drop my head into my hands.
"What did he say exactly, Kenna?" Kane demands to know.
"He said if I want to fire him, I can take him to court because breaking the contract is going to cost more than I can afford to pay."
"I read through every line of your contract," Kane says. "He's full of shit."
"Unless he's not."
I turn to look at Gideon.
"You're both assuming he was talking financially, but he never said it would cost her money. He just said it would cost more than she could afford to pay. From where I'm sitting, that leaves a whole lot up to interpretation."
"Jesus Christ," Kane growls. "You think he'll try to ruin her?"
"It's one interpretation."
"He could try to have the deal pulled."
"That's why he was here," I whisper. "He said the label was mad that I pulled you up on stage and that if I wanted to keep the contract, I better not do it again."
"Fuck him." Pure venom vibrates in Gideon's voice. "Do you have a contact at the label?"
"Yes. Well, sort of. I have a whole list of numbers and people I can call if I need anything, but I haven't really had to use any of them. They usually run everything through John since he's my manager."
I feel like an idiot for letting that happen, but you can only keep so many irons in the fire at once. Eventually you have to trust someone to carry some of the load, or you start dropping things. I trusted John. He's been in this business for a long time. I guess the saying is true, though. No business keeps its secrets better than show business. Because I never even heard any whispers that he's a backstabbing jerk. But if he's doing it to me, he's done it before. A leopard doesn't change his spots. And a zebra doesn't grow claws.
Gideon jerks his head in a nod.
"What am I going to do?" I ask, though I'm not sure if I'm talking to them, to myself, or to the universe in general.
"I'll go through the contract again," Kane says. "I'll go through the contract with the label again too. They can't just pull it just because you brought someone on stage and sang a song, Kenna. But I'll make sure we're prepared in case they try."
"Thank you," I whisper.
"We're going to figure this out," Gideon promises, kneeling in front of me, He slips his hands into mine, bringing them to his lips. "I swear to you, Sparrow. That prick isn't taking a goddamn thing from you. He'll have to pry my boot out of his intestines and dislodge my fist from his throat before I allow that to happen. Everything you've earned, you're keeping."
He's right. I'm not letting John take anything from me. He can throw his fit and have a tantrum because I'm not ever going to sleep with him, and I don't want someone working for me who thinks it's okay to speak to me the way he did today. But he doesn't get to take anything from me.
I've worked for everything I have. I've spent eight years working for it. John showed up at the eleventh hour. He doesn't get to claim credit for the last eight years. And he doesn't get to take anything, not even a freaking paperclip.
"Okay." I exhale a breath, nodding. "So we fight then."
"Yeah," Gideon growls. "We fight like hell."