Chapter 22
Although we’ve barely finished recording one sample track, Oliver Jones is eager to set us up with one of the record labels he works with. He grabbed what we had, explaining that he met with them about another artist and managed to sneak our demo in.
He omitted telling music execs who we were until they expressed their opinion on the demo. Thankfully, it wasn’t for our old record label— despite Oliver’s keenness to approach them, they are a no-go for us.
Velocity Vortex is a new chapter in our music careers, and we do not want to compromise on our artistic vision, but Oliver believes we need to be more flexible with our demands.
He’s lined up an opportunity for us to meet with this new label and discuss moving forward with a possible album deal. It’s our big break, and as much as we all want this, we’re skeptical because of the bad taste we got from the last big corporate label we previously signed up with.
“I thought we talked about not going corporate,” Jagger says, leaning over to Oliver as we wait for the execs in this sleek conference room with the long polished table that serves as the centerpiece.
Our arses sit on plush leather chairs, each strategically placed to facilitate collaboration and discussion among attendees.
State-of-the-art audiovisual equipment lines the perimeter of the room, including high-definition screens and sound systems, ready to showcase the latest music videos, performances, and presentations. A dedicated stage area at one end of the room allows for live performances or keynote speeches, adding to the typical air of corporate sophistication.
We don’t belong here.
Not anymore.
It’s not the kind of future we want to shape for ourselves.
Oliver brushes his hand through his meticulously styled hair, showcasing a blend of dark and silver strands. His complexion is weathered but distinguished, and hints of a tan show his preference for spending most of his weekends on his yacht docked in St.Tropez. He might be at the top of his game regarding his connections in the music industry and discovering talent that will go on to become legends someday but we know he’s also cunning and sly, and this meeting most likely has some private deal forged behind it.
The man’s a ruthless business mogul and a tastemaker in his own right who knows how to navigate the complexities of the music industry.
He pulls the white cuff from under his jacket. His tailored suit exudes modern elegance, and he wears it like second skin. The charcoal gray suit is paired with a crisp white shirt and a silk tie, highlighting his sartorial finesse. A subtle pocket square adds a touch of personality, signaling that beneath the polished exterior lies a man who understands the importance of making a lasting impression.
“You’re 28. Haze is 29 and the face of England’s largest fitness brand. None of you have worked in music for almost a decade, and on top of that, none of you are getting younger, either. You need a fast hit to the market before you all turn 30. These guys can get you there faster.”
I strum my fingers on the table to a light beat in my head. It’s my way of remaining calm in a situation I’m wary of. Stealing a glance at Eden, I watch her nervously push a strand of hair away from her face, making no attempt to focus on anyone. She was the most outspoken about not wanting to meet with the label, but Jagger and Haze convinced her to come and at least hear what terms they wished to offer.
The entire atmosphere in this room is charged with a mixture of excitement and hesitation as we sit and patiently wait at this long table.
The glass doors slide open automatically, and three label reps waltz inside. I immediately recognize Aiden Foster and Lauren Hayes, both seasoned executives who were based at our old record label. I glance at my band members and realize they also remember them, but my attention is caught on Eden, whose face quickly stiffens as she shakes hands with Lauren. There has to be some history there that I don’t know about.
The third rep is an older man, possibly late sixties, and I imagine he probably has the heaviest powers in this trio of execs.
“Alright, let’s get down to it,” Aiden says after settling back into the leather armchairs. “As a favor to Oliver, we listened to your demo. But we’re concerned about your lack of experience. You’ve been out of the game for over a decade and want to reenter under a different name and different music style. My biggest concern is you have no following.”
Like the knobhead he is, Oliver nods appreciatively at Aiden while the rest of us exchange angry glances.
“We appreciate you taking the time to listen to the demo and invite us here,” Jagger interjects. “But what is the purpose of bringing us here?”
Good question, one I’m especially interested in finding out because my first impression is that Aiden’s a total arsemonger.
“We like your sound,” Lauren explains. “It’s unique. You always sounded good together, but we want you to connect with your old fans. They’ve grown out of teenage pop and are in their twenties now. We want them to connect back with you and identify with you. That’s why we want to talk about image. It’s raw, which is good, but we’re wondering if it needs a bit more polish for mainstream appeal.”
Eden finally exchanges a look with Haze and me, and a hint of concern fills her face. She seems as if she’s ready to bolt out of here.
I can hardly blame her if she does.
“We want to maintain our authenticity, Lauren,” Jagger explains. “We”re building our image around being real and relatable.”
“Authenticity is crucial, no doubt,” Aiden adds in. “But, you know, the industry has its demands. We need to balance what you want and what the market expects. They see the five of you, and they expect the Sonics.”
Haze leans forward, a determined look on his face.
“We get it, but we don”t want to become something we”re not. Our music is about genuine expression, not just chasing trends, nor is it about the Sonics.”
“You don’t have the time to start new. Not at your age.”
“Bullshite,” exclaims Callum. “That’s not even remotely true.”
“You want to form a new band with the same people and pretend you don’t have a tarnished past. People aren’t stupid,” Aiden insists.
“What about the legalities behind our old band name? How would royalties work with another label’s income?” Jagger asks, and I’m relieved he thought that.
“Ice Records are ready to sell copyrights to us. All except for Shadow’s Solitude. They’re holding onto that music copyright.”
“We usually collaborate closely with our artists, and we have a certain direction in mind for you five.”
“We”re not looking to compromise on our artistic freedom. We”re open to collaboration but won”t let go of our vision.” Jagger says firmly.
Aiden sighs, recognizing the challenge of striking the right balance.
“Look, we see potential here, but we”re investing a lot. We need to ensure this partnership is beneficial for both sides. Can you be a bit more flexible?”
“No,” Eden suddenly says with a firm, confident tone. “No fucking way. This is who we are, who I am. Our essence, our music that stays ours.”
The room falls silent momentarily, the tension thick in the air.
“What Aiden and Lauren are trying to say is, as the Sonics, you’re workable,” Oliver explains as if he’s talking to a five-year-old. “As Velocity Vortex, you’re virtually unknowns with no following. The five of you haven’t played live together in a decade. They are doing us a favor.”
Usa favor? I hardly see Oliver in the equation. He dropped Eden in a heartbeat and fired her from the band, but he made a solid fortune off her. He was never part of us. He’s just a mogul in a suit with a ton of connections that we need, but so far, this meeting is a mess.
“We appreciate the offer, and we”re willing to work together,” Jagger says, sensing our agitation. “But we don”t want to become something we”re not.”
“You’re definitely not the same group as you once were, and with that infamous video, there’s no way you can go back there. You’re adults now. We want to sell you as such.”
We remain silent and curious.
“Eden, you’ve changed yourself dramatically.”
“I haven’t,” she retorts sternly. Her brows furrow at Lauren. “This is who I am. Eden Rivers from the Vixens was something you created as a product, a brand. It was never the essence of who I was.”
So now I think I understand the stance Eden has against this woman.
“You walked into that competition with a badly dyed blonde hair job,” Lauren retorts defensively.
“I was thirteen,” Eden sounds vexed. “I had tried to give myself a balayage in my foster family’s bathroom at 2am on the day of the competition.”
I grin at that, but as cute as I imagine Eden back then, I hold the chuckle because I know Eden’s not trying to go down memory lane.
“And we made you into a superstar,” Lauren interjects proudly.
“You made me into a brand. I was a person!” Eden retorts, frustration building in her voice.
The four of us lads sit up straight, fully attentive to Eden”s emotions, and we can”t help but share her exasperation, not appreciating Lauren”s obliviousness to the deeper sentiments behind Eden”s words.
“Okay!” Oliver intervenes and moves his entire body forward as if trying to referee between Lauren and Eden. “I think we established that Eden will not go back to the look she had before.”
“She can’t,” Aiden steps in. “This look she has fits well with your song Phoenix Rising, and we want to develop it further. Maybe some more tattoos, a full arm. I think the look Callum has going on works perfectly; bad boy, recovered junkie. Eden, would you consider an entire neck tattoo?”
We all stir uncomfortably in our seats.
“What the bloody fuck?” Callum beats me to saying it.
“We want to go with the full-on heavy rock image. Promote you as a polyamory heavy rock group. Are any of you males coupling together? This would sit well with the woke society, especially TT nation.”
“Are you fucking high?” Eden blares out.
“And you call me junkie?” Callum is one second from expressing himself through his fist. “Mate, your nose is one step from a collapsed septum from all that white powder you love.”
I push my chair out because I’m two seconds from walking out of this shit show. Jagger and Haze are also pulling away from the table.
“This isn’t what—”
“I understand your concern,” Aiden puts his hands out and interrupts Jagger. “But you need to enter the market with a bang. Eden, your career ended as a slut in gangbang, we want to bring you back strong, vigorous, and all five of you united. Hardened and powerful.”
“And gay?” I glare at the two execs because the third hasn’t spoken a word. “Are you out of your fucking mind? We’re not gay, you imbeciles. What’s next? Wear dresses and prance around the stage like freaking princesses? We’re a rock band, not your stereotype factory!”
My voice rings with a mix of frustration and disbelief as I confront them. What the hell kind of absurd suggestion for an image makeover!
“Easy, there. No one”s suggesting you change who you are. We”re just exploring ideas to broaden your appeal and connect with a wider audience. It”s about being authentic, not conforming to stereotypes.” The Silent One finally breaks his silence, raising an eyebrow and speaking with a calm yet assertive tone.
I shoot him a skeptical look, still seething with anger.
“I’m done,” Eden says, her entire face red with fury. If I thought I was seething, she’s about to go all banshee on us. “If you want all this bullshit. Take it, guys. But I can’t. I have way too much integrity for such garbage. I’m sorry.” She pushes her chair back, and Jagger grabs hold of her forearm firmly to stop her.
“We’re all done. We’re a team. I can take the sexual insults aimed at me, but no one talks to Eden in such a disrespectful manner. Cards are off the table.” He then turns to Oliver. “You’re fired, mate.”
He joins Eden, and we all follow in solidarity. As much as Callum and I want to fucking punch the living daylights out of Aiden, there are way too many witnesses, and that prancer will have his LA lawyer up our arses in no time.
Not worth my time.
“It’s fine, siren,” Callum says as we take the lift to the basement parking to collect our car. “Jagger’s a hundred percent right. No one talks to you like that and thinks it”s okay.”
“For the record, I think your neck ink and entire look is sexy as hell,” she tells him and grins.
Haze’s hand strays down her back and grips her arse.
“You’re sexy as hell, princess, even as an angry lioness,” he whispers, his voice laced with a velvety smooth desire.
“So, regarding this gangbang,” Callum asks with a mischievous grin. “Are you with Jagger and Haze now?”
“It’s not a gangbang,” I say. “It’s a disrespectful terminology.”
“Actually, I don’t mind if you four want to use it, but not outsiders,” Eden quips with an amused grin. “And I’d like to include Asher, but I don’t know how you feel. Maybe we should talk alone?”
My heart skips a beat.
“You fancy me, Eddie?” I grin at her because I’m fucking in.
“I fancy you lots,” she admits, and I don’t give a shit if we’re in a flippin’ lift and my three best friends are standing with us. I lean in and take her lips.
I push her up against the metal wall and ignore the others while I seal the deal with Eden and catch this moment. We’re both lost in this instant, and I pull back slightly, licking my lips and savoring her taste. Eden grins at me, and I swear this woman has the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.
“Alright, mate. Save some for home,” Haze says, and we reach our floor.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders and lead us towards the car.
A second elevator opens its door, and we hear Oliver Jones come out at us.
“Fucking scum!” he yells. “I put my rep out for you. I don’t give a flying rat”s arse about your sensitivities. You’re going back upstairs to apologize to those industry execs.”
“Fuck off, Oliver,” Callum retorts, and we continue towards the vehicle. Haze unlocks it with the key fob.
“Eden,” Oliver calls out. “Leave these mugs. You have a big career as a solo artist. I told you this ten years ago.”
She stops dead and turns to him. “Ten years ago, you abandoned me. Told me in two to three years to try again.”
“How the fuck was I to know that video would go so south.”
I feel her tense up, and I drop my arm from her.
“You knew about the video?”
“The Vixens were on their way out. Brittney was already auditioning for movies, and Mel was more interested in exploring her sexuality. You were the big talent in that group. I moved you to the Sonics to have your own band, but rather than stand out, you all merged instead. You, darling, had the potential to be a superstar solo artist. You didn’t need them. That video was supposed to be your big break to go solo. How the bloody hell was I supposed to know my contact at ZMA would spin this on the opposite spectrum. In the world of MeToo, this was not supposed to go in another direction.”
“You released the video?” I ask with utter disbelief, and my jaw stops short of dropping to the ground.
“The bigger question is how did he acquire it?” Haze looks at him with pure venom.
“Does it matter?” Oliver ignores us and talks directly to Eden. “Darling, get in my car, don’t leave with these fellas. They’ll do nothing for your career. I can open doors for you.”
Eden steps forward, away from us, as if she’s contemplating what Oliver’s asking, but her four bandmates don’t believe for a minute she will. The geezer has always been nothing but a minger with connections. We recognized him for what he was and what we needed him for. Nothing more.
“How did you achieve that video, Oliver? You want me to come with you, but I want full transparency. Give me something.”
He relaxes his shoulders.
“My brother-in-law’s cousin manages the Sheltlander Hotel in Manhattan. That’s where it was filmed. I needed a scandal, and I knew you and some of the fellas were together but didn’t realize all of you were. It wasn’t healthy. I wanted to take you places, but not with them dragging along.”
He pauses and looks at her as if he genuinely believes his bullshite. “You were always special, luv. I still can achieve that if you come with me.”
“How did you get the video?” she asks again.
“We had the mirror in the bedroom switched out to a two-way and a camera placed on the other side in the room next door.”
“Son of a fucking bitch,” she breathes out.
I can’t even begin to count the amount of explosive remarks that were just emitted from each of our mouths.
“Honestly, Eden. I never in a million years thought this would hurt you.”
“But it did. You didn’t just destroy my career but four others. Are you my stalker?”
“Stalker?” His brows furrow sharply at her as if he has no clue what she’s talking about. Based on his reaction, I don’t believe he’s the current one. “You mean the one you said was allegedly following you?”
“Allegedly?”
I narrow my eyes at him; he better start talking.
“I was never your stalker, Eden. But you never had one, either. Obsessive fans sure, but none that ever had any malicious intent, darling.”
I swipe my hand across my cheek. Shite. This isn’t going to end well.
Bamm!
We’re all well pissed, but Callum just took a swing at Oliver, knocking the man against the concrete column. He recoils in shock, holding his jaw where our bandmate’s punch had landed.
Here we go again.
Bamm!
This time, Haze’s fist makes its way to Oliver’s face, and the force throws him off balance once more as he staggers backward.
“That”s for all the crap you”ve put us through. We”re not taking it anymore.”
Now nursing his face, Oliver glares back at us with a mixture of fury and surprise.
And just like that, the five of us find a renewed sense of solidarity in the face of our band manager slash music agent’s mistreatment.
Bamm!
That fist from Jagger nicely connects with an audible thud on Oliver’s nose. The impact is swift and brutal, a sickening crack, and he staggers backward, clutching his nose and wincing in pain.
Unable to contain my own rage any longer, I clench my fists and swing at Oliver with a powerful punch.
“Eden would never have left us, even after that video circulated. That’s why you had us locked up at that place.”
Bamm!
That fifth is delivered so suddenly that it throws him hard against the wall, and Eden shakes her clenched fist, opening her hand and relieving herself from sore knuckles. She definitely put a lot of muscle into that fist.
“I think I’m suffering a stiffie,” Callum says, impressed. We all are. “That’s a pretty good right hook you have. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”
“I grew up in Brownsville, Brooklyn. You either joined a gang or made sure you knew how to fight like you’re in one.”
There’s something very sexy about a woman who can handle her own fight, although I’d probably kill any twat who tries to lay a hand on Eden.
“What you did, Oliver, was a whole lot of fucked up,” she stares wide at him.
She’s pretty hacked with him and it probably has to do with his comment about her not having any stalkers. He doesn’t know about the one who entered her house and threatened to kill her. Had he taken her worries seriously, maybe it would never have happened. We were just kids who trusted the bastard as if he were our own parent, but all he cared about was how much we could fill his pockets.
“Four other people here witnessed what you admitted about the video,” Eden continues. “We’re not going to turn you in because it’s publicity we don’t need before we launch ourselves back into the public eye. So this is how it will be: you’re still fired as our agent, but you’re managing our PR under our direction, and you’re doing it for free. There’ll be no cut of any profit for you. But you will ensure ZMA creates a positive buzz around Velocity Vortex before and after the release of our first single.”
Oliver’s eyes widen in surprise as he shifts his gaze from her to us, a palpable shock etched across his face.
“You must be mad!” he exclaims, removing his hand from his broken nose.
Blood drips through trembling fingers, staining the ground beneath. “How the bloody hell would I be able to make the industry’s biggest gossip machine create such a vibe? And why the fuck would I do that?”
Callum and I step forward to remind him, but Eden holds her arms out to stop us.
“Because I was still 17 when you recorded me and released the video. Five days shy of my eighteenth birthday. That means ZMA released that video of a minor without their consent. That’s a crime in fifty states. You’ll make sure you follow what I’m demanding because you and the bosses at ZMA don’t want to end up in prison as pedophiles.”
I remember that video well; they cut all of Callum”s images out because they knew he was still 17 when it was released. He’s two years younger than his brother and a year younger than us. I guess Oliver never disclosed how old the clip was to the media moguls.
“You’re a—”
“Keep it PG, mate,” Jagger throws him a warning. “Otherwise, you’ll be shitting out your veneers in the morning. That’s our woman you’re about to insult.”
“You’re all bloody sodomites!”
“We’re artists, saints, and sinners,” Haze says casually, and Eden huffs a laugh.
“Pretty good analogy,” I say. “We should use it for lyrics.”
“I like it too,” Eden agrees. “Saints and Sinners. Our first album name.”
“You’re all bloody mad,” Oliver mutters, unimpressed as he straightens himself up.
“That we are. A bunch of arse eaters,” Callum grins amusingly.
“Do we have a deal?” Jagger interjects and moves close to Eden’s side to support her recent demands to our minging ex-band manager.
We watch as Oliver gathers himself together and fixes his tattered jacket and white shirt collar, which now sports drops of blood from a face that’s swollen and bloodied from the five lethal punches he got.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he mutters, pulling on his shirt cuffs to straighten the sleeves as if he’s unaffected by what just transpired here.
“Not good enough,” Jagger picks up on Oliver’s weak promise. “Failure means prison for you.”
“Don’t bend over when you drop your soap,” I remind him with a warning.
“A bit of soap never hurt nobody,” Callum sings and winks amusingly at him.
Oliver nods his understanding and distances himself from our group. He turns slightly and cracks his head side to side, focusing his piercing gaze on Eden.
“You had a bright future, darling, but you fucked it up with them. My greatest mistake was not launching your solo career right after rescuing you from the Vixens,” he confesses.
“My only regret was ever thinking these men were responsible for my career downfall. I have no remorse when it comes to you. I won’t waste a moment of regret on scum like you,” Eden retaliates assertively, and I step to her side and slide my arm on her back in support.
Instead of responding, Oliver delves into his trouser pocket, retrieving the key fob to his car. In the distance, we observe the illumination of the lights on the Porsche he has parked.
Turning around, he casts one last gaze in our direction. “I was your creator. I made you into the stars you became. It was within my right to dismantle what was rightfully mine.”
“Wrong,” Jagger counters him, his brows furrowing deep with disagreement. “Without us, you didn’t have a band. You found an opportunity, and you milked it. You never created us; we were stars from the outset. Just remember, the public chose us and voted to keep us in the game. You merely held the winning lottery ticket and capitalized on it.”
If there was anything more I had ever agreed on with my bandmate, this was it. Jagger is right. We were always the talent, and they did nothing but expand their already large pockets full of gold. We did the legwork and made the sacrifices to transform ourselves into who we became.
“Come on, guys,” Eden says as she slips out of my grip to move towards our vehicle parked nearby. “There will be more opportunities. We’ve never needed him.”
”How about we revisit the good old days and put together a mini gig?” Callum suggests suddenly, prompting us to pause and turn our attention toward him. The idea’s not bad, but I’m curious about what he’s proposing.
Our short silence is interrupted by the roaring engine of Oliver’s vehicle storming out of his parking space and up the ramp.
“What do you have in mind?” Haze asks, and all of us are intrigued with what Callum has up his sleeve.
“I’ve got a mate. He owns a bar in downtown LA. He has a small stage for bands to play live. Maybe I could ring him and see if he’ll let us play an early set tonight.”
“What kind of bar?” Haze casts a skeptical eye over his brother.
“It’s a small dive bar. But we’ve got to start somewhere. We haven’t played in public for over a decade.”
“We haven’t played together as a band in over a decade,” Jagger corrects. “Perhaps this is what we need.”
“But a dive bar?” Haze gazes at him, releasing a sarcastic laugh. “We used to fill arenas.”
Eden goes to Callum’s rescue and grabs his hand in support.
“We need to restart somewhere, but this is an opportunity to play our song, even if it”s to the wrong audience,” she gazes optimistically at each of us, “it’ll be fun.”
Haze’s face suddenly softens. “You sure princess? Dive bars are different than what you’re used to. The audience would be rough, probably brutal, maybe heckle us. If we’re lucky, they might ignore us completely.”
“I’m sure, babe. Let’s do this. After that shit show upstairs, let”s prove everyone wrong, go grab our equipment, and have some fun,” she lets go of Callum’s hand. “You think your friend will let us play?”
He grins at her, determined.
“I’ll leave him no choice.”