Chapter 20 Raina
I’m still riding the high from last night, the beat of the music pounding through my veins as I work. I’ve been here for a while, high on creativity as I write out plans.
“Hey, Bunny, their car just pulled up,” Blake tells me, his arms wrapping around me. “Did you even leave any planning for us to help with?”
His lips trace along my neck as I take in the space around me.
I came in here after finishing another Keaton breakfast feast. My plan was to simply set the room up for Izzy and Gill, get the whiteboard in place, put out some glasses of water, a plate of cookies…
but when I finished I started writing down ideas, and apparently never stopped.
The dining room feels like a battlefield, transformed from an ordinary space into a war room for my creativity. The whiteboard looms ahead, filled with the evidence of my frantic brainstorming, every marker stroke a reflection of my dreams unraveled in ink.
I hold up my fingers a small breadth apart to show him a little bit. His warm laugh feathers down my neck, making me want to encourage him to continue his kissing, but I don’t have time. The front door opens, and I hear Nash greeting them.
Exhilaration buzzes under my skin. What if Izzy thinks it’s all too chaotic?
What if Gill doesn’t see my vision? What if…
But no. I inhale deeply, shaking off the what-ifs like fallen leaves.
Those two are my biggest cheerleaders. They’ll help figure out the best way to make this dream come to life.
Izzy strides in like she owns the place, a large purse over her shoulder, confidence radiating in her trail.
Behind her, Gill follows, pushing her hair away from her face and a sly smile gracing her lips as she scans the room with an artist’s eyes.
I can’t help but grin as they catch sight of the chaos I’ve created.
“Wow, Raina,” Izzy says, her gaze sweeping over the makeshift setup. “I can see how passionate you are. I like the initiative.”
“Thanks!” I reply, unable to keep the excitement from my voice. My fingers fidget with the remnants of marker ink, and I point to the board where I scrawled Authenticity over corporate gloss. Raw talent over a manufactured image. “I’ve been brainstorming while waiting for you both.”
After the guys agreed to my plan, I called the girls to fill them in, needing to get things started as soon as possible. This might be the first time we are meeting in person, but we’ve already been sharing ideas back and forth.
Izzy raises an eyebrow, and Gill leans in to study the words. “You’re already way ahead. I’m impressed,” she says, wonderment lighting up her features. “This looks like a serious start.”
“I aim to impress,” I respond with a soft laugh, suddenly feeling a surge of motivation.
It doesn’t hurt that they’re here, ready to dive into this journey with me.
It takes me a moment to realize they haven’t even flinched at the way my voice has changed.
No sad looks. Nothing but pure support and focus on the project I’ve asked them to take on with me.
Izzy immediately unpacks folders from her bag, laying them across the table with an air of authority.
“Let’s lay out a strategy. We need to clarify your brand, what this new direction looks like.
” Each sheet contains budgets and outlines, a stark reminder of the practicalities I’m desperate to avoid thinking about.
But I know we need to address them head-on.
The guys file into the room behind me, and we all take a seat around the dining room table.
It’s the best spot I could think of to create a boardroom-like feeling.
Keaton takes the chair on one side of me and Nash on the other.
Izzy and Gill are across from us, and the rest of the guys take the other seats.
“Okay, first let’s talk about a name for the label. What would you like it to be?” Izzy asks as Gill pulls out her tablet ready to take notes.
I’ve thought long and hard about this, and we’ve spent even longer going back and forth in a group text narrowing it down. But once it was suggested, we all knew it was the perfect choice.
“Survival Records,” Keaton says, saving my voice for an answer down the road that only I can give.
A broad smile takes over Izzy’s face, and Gill nods her head like she loves it.
“That’s perfect. I’m not sure how I could get more excited for this project, but I am.
” She releases a slow breath and reaches her hands across the table, and I give her mine.
“With everything you’ve been through, I am so fucking proud of you fighting for your dreams. It would be so easy to give up, but that’s not who you are. ”
She squeezes my hands before returning to her upright position and continuing on with business decisions we need to make. The guys answer where they can, and I write down mine whenever possible.
“Let’s take a break and move on to something more fun, shall we?” Izzy suggests, turning her attention to her number one.
Gill slides her portfolio onto the table with a flourish. “I’ve been working on some preliminary concepts based on what we talked about, a few options of what I think could reflect your raw aesthetic. Let me know what you think!”
I lean closer, peering at the compiled pictures.
She flips through pages of edgy fashion photography intermingled with snapshots of underground venues.
Each image carries a vibe that captures something essential, yet I feel a thread of tension in my gut.
I cringe at a particularly polished shot.
It feels like I’m staring at an idealization that isn’t me.
“This is great, but—“ I begin, cutting her off before I can second-guess myself. Keaton nudges my tablet at me, reminding me that I shouldn’t overuse my voice. “I don’t want anything too pristine. This isn’t about looking pretty for the cameras anymore.
” I grab the scissors lying on the table, wielding them like a weapon against the polished images.
Gill blinks at my fierce determination, and Izzy exchanges an amused glance with her before returning her attention to me.
I slice through a glossy photograph of a perfectly made-up model, tearing the edges away like shedding old skin.
Each cut feels cathartic, an affirmation of what I refuse to go back to.
Izzy steps in, her brows knitting together in a concerned frown. “Raina, while I love this passion, we also need to consider the marketability. Not everything can be raw and unrefined. We need to balance it, right?”
“While I understand that, I do, I refuse to compromise on my image, not after everything I’ve been through,” I insist, my voice sharpening like a blade.
The tension buzzes in the air as I straighten my spine, my resolve strengthening.
“This is about carving out something that feels true to me. Something I can finally own.”
“Just because we’re thinking of aesthetics doesn’t mean we’ll sacrifice what makes you who you are, Bunny,” Blake says.
“I’ll make sure whatever we decide embodies everything you stand for,” Nash says, leaning in with sincerity. “There’s power in your voice. Let’s make it visible.”
“The Storm Chasers have proven they’ll follow her to the ends, I don’t think we need to worry about the fans not liking what she gives them.” He smirks, then adds, “Plus, I think we can market anything Raina gives us.”
Gill’s eyes flicker with understanding. “Okay, let’s keep the things you like, and we’ll nix the things you don’t. Replace them with something that speaks to you.” She lets out a laugh. “But I think we should start anew. You turned this into utter chaos.”
“Good idea!” Izzy says, the tension easing. Her gaze is soft as she takes me in, a sense of pride shining from her. She wants to make sure I’ve thought everything through and I’m making the best choices for not only me, but the new brand we’re building.
“Get to the whiteboard, baby,” Nash encourages, helping me pull my chair out. “You write down the things you want to keep.”
“Yes! And I’ll start grabbing images to make a vision board,” Gill adds.
I uncap a marker and start writing out things I liked.
Smokey eyes, leather jackets, fishnets, short shorts or frilly skirts.
After a second thought, I write black next to those.
Boots, black rhinestone microphone. For some reason, I picture the darkness I’ve kept inside seeping out to take over the instrument I use to amplify my voice.
“I have an idea,” Dare starts, and I turn to give him my attention. “What if you wore old T-shirts from your previous tours as a nod to the past?”
“Love it!” I write on the board, then erase it, adding the idea to our list but amending it to say crop top.
I’m forming an idea of exactly what I want things to look like as we talk, and this is actually beyond perfect.
I want to incorporate elements that have been a part of my journey but embrace them in a way that feels liberated.
“Okay! I like that!” Gill says, her fingers flying over her tablet as she pulls up images reflecting my vision. There’s a playful energy to our back-and-forth as she and Izzy encourage my ideas.
“What about adding rhinestones to the back of your leather jackets? Could be your name or the tour name. Just a brief nod to your pop past.” I instantly give Gill a thumbs up for her idea and add it to the growing list. She gives a pleased smile and returns to her work.
I stand back and take in the list we have so far, one that speaks of resilience and defiance.
“What about me?” Nash asks, an overly animated excitement in his voice. Which is basically just Nash to a T. “I want to know what my stage style will be.”
“What would you like it to be?“ I write out, which starts a trend of building each of their looks, which admittedly isn’t too far off from what they typically wear, but I love how much fun they are having with this process.