Chapter 1
Vibrations thrummed through my bare feet, traveling up into my bones. Every note, every pulsation sang in my body, written out in my head. The beat of the drums crashed and resonated in my chest, my arms whirling two hickory drumsticks. Music wasn’t just a love of mine; it was my blood, my air, my connection to this world.
My eyes closed, strands of my long purple and black hair falling onto my face as I pounded out my last solo, the song coming to a crescendo. Perspiration dampened my pierced brow, my frame swaying, feeling with my entire body.
The final beat pulsated up my arm, and I sucked in a gulp of air. Twirling the drumsticks, my breath heavy, I pried my eyes open, a smile of pure joy tugging at my lips. This was the only place I felt part of the world, not having to fight for everything. This was where I was supposed to be: my happy bubble.
Then the bubble popped.
Four heads were turned at me; it was obvious they had cut out earlier in the song. The lead singer, Ames Isley, had his normal frown of impatience on his face, while the lead guitarist, Tobias, the keyboarder, Geo, and our manager, Emmit, all stared, waiting for me to realize no one was playing anymore.
Chagrin bloomed in my cheeks at their gazes, my eyes automatically peering at the spot where our bass guitarist, Ziggy, always stood. The position to my right was now empty, reminding me he was gone and filling me with grief. My link to my cues, the one who kept me in the loop of changes, was no longer here.
“Sorry,”
I muttered, but I wasn’t sure if anyone heard me, their attention already snapping back to Emmit. Ames’s head wagged, his arms flying dramatically, twisting the nerves in my stomach.
“Now, hear me out.”
Emmit’s hands went up, his mouth moving quickly, telling me he was trying to get out whatever he needed to say before Ames stomped out. Whoever said women were the emotional, dramatic ones had never met Ames. He owned the cliché of temperamental rocker as a badge of honor. While moody, sensitive, and ego-driven, he was incredibly talented and hardworking. I had known Ames since my late teens, and he had always been this way, though the more our star rose, the more those diva qualities came out in him.
Ziggy had been the only sane one. The one who kept us grounded, especially Ames. In his absence, we were off-kilter and not clicking as well. His death was an abyss in our group. One we couldn’t seem to fill.
Ames’s back was to me, his head shaking. I could feel his agitation growing and sense it in the body language of the others. I glanced over at Tobias and Geo, trying to see what I missed, feeling even more isolated without Ziggy next to me. Over time, he and I had developed a great connection. He was a true legend and my touchstone in every way.
So many in this business were incredibly talented and loved music, but if you didn’t have it in your bones, written into your DNA, this lifestyle could break you. It could destroy those who breathed music even more. Too many legends were dead because the music industry was a demon who consumed you, and if you didn’t find a way to survive the drugs, alcohol, imposter syndrome, and burnout would swallow you whole.
Ziggy was swallowed whole.
“No! Absolutely not!”
Ames turned my way, about a beat away from throwing down his microphone stand and striding off stage. He paced on the stage, running his hands through his long blonde hair, loosening the braid he had down the middle like a mohawk. Ames could be cast in the next Viking show, though he was too lean for war.
“What choice do you have?”
Emmit replied, a twitch in his cheek, which I knew as a sign he was frustrated with Ames. “Ziggy is gone; he has been for six months! You need the spot filled now, and you know it!”
Emmit motioned to where Ziggy usually was, but his eyes drifted to me before jumping back to Ames.
I felt the underlying accusation. They felt the need to fill it faster because of me. Being the only woman in a rock band already came with a lot of pressure, but I felt it even more because of who I was.
“We’ll open it to auditions,”
Ames retaliated.
“You already did, and you rejected them all!”
Emmit’s arms went up.
“They all sucked.”
“No one is going to be Ziggy.”
Emmit took a deep calming breath, which he did a lot around Ames. “You guys have been together for a long time. I get it’s hard to imagine anyone else in his place.”
He motioned to the blank space, wrenching my heart. My lids filled up with tears and I quickly blinked them away. It never got easier. “But you are no longer those kids practicing in a burnt-down warehouse. You were nominated for Best New Artist and Best Song of the Year last year.”
“Which we lost to them!”
Them, meaning our nemesis, The Velvet Kings. A band the industry had pitted against us since the beginning. People said our sounds were similar, which only pissed us off more.
The Velvet Kings were hacks. A bunch of pretty boys who had no heart or soul in their music. Fans didn’t seem to care. At one time, they might have been more original, but now they were produced and formulated to be a hit. They caved to the music industry and whored out for money.
They were a bunch of assholes, who I heard barely tolerated each other either, which didn’t surprise me. A long time ago, when we were all starting out, I had auditioned to be their drummer. Let’s say it didn’t go well, though I was glad now it hadn’t worked out.
We crossed paths at events and award shows, but I stayed as far as I could from them.
Mental Breakdown was my home, my family, my brothers. Even if they weren’t in blood, they were in every other way. It was not as if I knew who my blood family was anyway. Ziggy and I had been in the foster system together. Music was our way to stay out of trouble and have a reason to keep going when things got dark.
“No fucking way that asshole will take his place!”
Ames swung back for Emmit, putting his back to me again, his frame dramatically flailing about.
What? Who was he talking about? Someone was taking Ziggy’s spot? I hated not knowing what was going on. I hit my stick on the ride cymbal with irritation.
With a heavy sigh, Ames curved his body to face us all. “We all agree, right?”
He motioned to the rest of us, Geo and Tobias nodding in agreement. I seemed to be the only one who was clueless.
“What is going on?”
I set down my sticks, conveying my frustration.
“You don’t have a choice,”
Emmitt continued on, not noticing me. “You guys are a mess. Missing cues…”
Emmit peered at all of us, though once again I felt this was about me. “You’ve been off without him, and I get it. His loss was a shock. But you are at the cusp of being the next big thing, and I won’t let you throw it away! I understand it must be difficult to go on without him. But you didn’t work this hard, he didn’t work this hard, for you to throw it all away. And don’t tell me Ziggy wouldn’t want this for all of you. You know he’d be screaming at you guys right now,”
Emmit challenged us. He was right; Ziggy, of all people, would be telling us to get our shit together. He was our rock, while we didn’t notice he was losing his way in drugs. “As your manager, unless you want to fire me, I’ll make this decision. I’ll be the bad person and fill Ziggy’s spot. ”
Ames snapped to him as though he was about to speak, but Emmit held up his hand.
“At least give him a chance. Okay? You can at least do that since he came all the way here.”
“What?!”
Ames sputtered, making it hard for me to understand. “He’s here? Now?”
“Yes.”
“Are you serious?”
Geo’s pierced mouth hung open, his shaggy reddish-brown hair falling over his forehead.
“Fuck this!”
Tobias ripped the guitar strap over his head, his movements irritated, his curly black hair tangling in the fabric.
“What is going on?”
I asked, frustrated, as no one seemed to be paying me much attention, too caught up in their own anger. “Who’s here?”
“Stop being babies!”
Emmit’s chest lifted, his tone humming through the floor. “You’re about to have everything you’ve wanted if you just put your egos away!”
“Mental Breakdown are not sellouts!”
Ames scrubbed his hands through his scruff as his long, lean, fit body, covered in tattoos and piercings, paced in a circle.
“Mental Breakdown will not be selling anything if you don’t get out of your own way!”
Emmit’s button-down shirt stretched across his chest, his arms swinging. His brown hair was styled and had a hint of salt and pepper, which he blamed on us. “Scotch Tape Hole is starting to fall in the charts, and this business is fleeting. One minute, you’re the hot thing; the next, you’re not. We have to strike while the iron is hot. And he is the best thing to happen to you right now.”
Emmit struggled to stay facing me. “Think about it. One of the best bass guitarists from the top group in the world right now joins Mental Breakdown? The fans will go apeshit, and the press alone will be insane!”
Dread tricked down my throat into my stomach, sensing the world about to collapse. Intuition told me what was coming, yet my head shook in denial.
No. No way. Emmit would never do this to us. Plus, there was no way he would come here. Join our band. It had to be someone else.
He was the best guitarist. Even if the group were sellouts, you couldn’t deny his talent. He carried the band and had ten times more charisma than the lead singer or anyone in his band. He always did.
Emmit swung away from us, his arm motioning for someone to come in.
My gaze darted to Geo and Tobias, hoping to see something in their expressions that told me I was wrong, that who I thought was about to walk in wasn’t going to.
Their eyes met mine with the same dismay.
Heavy black boots shuddered across the wood stage, all our heads darting to the entrance.
Holy. Fuck.
Air sucked out of the room, and time stopped like it couldn’t handle this man’s energy either. Even as a teenager, when our paths first crossed, he had an effect on me.
But then I learned what kind of man he was, and I vowed to avoid the base guitar of The Velvet Kings at all costs.
Hendrix (Drix) Decker.