Chapter 2
Chapter Two
A dam Brooks stood in the cramped lobby of his band’s Los Angeles recording studio and stared at the text his dad had just sent with exasperation.
It won’t work. It has a pool.
He’d been trying to buy his parents a new house for the past two years. The place they lived in now had been beaten up by years of kids, dogs, and general living. His dad was close to retirement, and his mother had always dreamed of traveling. Adam wanted to give them the easy retirement they deserved, and the first step to that was a house they didn’t have to constantly update.
His mother was excited by the idea and had embraced the house hunting trips with relish. His dad, however, found an excuse to say no to every option they found. The yard was too big or too small, the plumbing too old or too new, the floors creaked, the walls were crooked, it smelled, the bedroom faced the wrong way—that one had totally thrown Adam—the list went on and on .
Adam shook his head and texted back. What’s wrong with a pool? Swimming is good for you.
Dots indicated his dad was responding. He waited.
“Dude,” His brother Brandon called. “We got the new track queued up. You coming?”
Brandon was three years younger and three inches taller, but they shared the same black hair and dark brown eyes they’d inherited from their mother, and the lopsided grin they got from their father. They also appeared to share terrible luck with women, since neither of them had kept a girlfriend more than a couple of months. Brandon had managed to get married once in Vegas, but it had been annulled the next day, so it didn’t really count.
“Yeah,” Adam shouted back. “In a sec.”
Their band, Delusions of Glory, was in the studio trying to find yet another new writing partner to help them finish the last three songs for the new album. The process had been tedious, mind-numbing torture so far. Maybe they should just release what they had. Would anyone notice three fewer songs?
Finally, the reply text chimed. More trouble than it’s worth .
“Seriously?” Adam rolled his eyes, shoved his phone in his back pocket, and went into the studio. “Who the hell doesn’t like a pool?”
“Everybody likes pools.” Cooper Peady, Adam’s best friend since grade school and the cofounder of the band, looked up from the soundboard and grinned. He usually played lead guitar and provided backup vocals, but he also had a passion for technology and made an excellent wingman at parties. “Especially if there’s ladies in bikinis around it.”
“Don’t need a pool when you got the ocean right there,” Lucas Austerberry, their manager, said. He was almost fifty, with graying hair and the greedy smile of a used car salesman, but he’d been instrumental in taking Delusions of Glory from good local band to international sensation.
They now had four platinum albums and three Grammys on their resumes, along with merchandising, endorsement deals, and a video game, thanks in large part to the way Lucas helped them make the most of every opportunity. The man had found ways to turn one song from an unknown high school band into a franchise and he’d done it in under three years. If he seemed pushy and aggressive, well, it was helpful to have a shark on your side, especially in the music business, and Lucas had always done right by them.
Drummer Flynn Mackie, with spiked blond hair and arms covered with tattoos, tapped out a rhythm on the back of a chair. “Can we get on with this? I got a date later. Me and that girl I met at the bar are going to see the new Bond movie. She had a bit part as a maid or something.”
Flynn had been Brandon’s best friend since they were in diapers. Adam hadn’t been so sure about including him in the band at the beginning, but he’d come to respect the man’s skill with the sticks, and he’d grown fond of his wild and crazy ways over the years. Flynn always brought life to any party and reason to any argument, and he was always, always , on time. It was a quality Adam wished would rub off on Brandon.
Adam gestured at the soundboard. “Queue it up. I’m listening.” He settled down on the couch next to LT Sullivan, their bassist.
LT grinned. “You ain’t gonna like it, man. We should probably stop now.”
Lucas held up a hand. “Hey, don’t start dissing it before he even hears it.”
Adam frowned. “What makes you say that?”
LT shrugged. “Just a feelin’ I got. No reason.”
“Hm.” Adam grunted and closed his eyes. LT was enjoying this a little too much, which meant he knew something. “I can’t reject until I hear it, that’s the rule.”
“Uh-huh,” LT said, amusement providing a million layers of subtext to the simple expression.
“Okay, gentlemen,” Lucas said. “Keep in mind this is just an audition piece. If you like the style, I’ll get Rachel in here to work on the real thing with you. She’s available this week and next.”
“Rachel?” Adam’s chest tightened, and his eyes flew open. “Are you talking about Rachel Saunders? The blonde with big, er, assets?”
LT chuckled. “Told ya.”
Lucas nodded. “She said she’d worked with you before, so I figured you’d at least listen to the whole song before you shot holes in it.”
Adam groaned. “We should move on. Now.”
Brandon snorted. “Dude, they didn’t work together. They banged each other nonstop for three weeks and then ditched each other like yesterday’s fish.”
“Yeah,” Cooper said. He wrinkled his nose as if the fish were in the trash next to him. “She’s not our style.”
Lucas gave them an incredulous look. “She worked with Carrie Underwood.”
“She’s better with women,” Adam said. He had a brief flashback to their last encounter. It involved a mattress on the floor, a jar of honey, and a box of macaroni and cheese. It had taken three hot showers to get all the honey off his body. He shuddered. “Trust me. Let’s move on.”
“We can’t,” Lucas said. “There’s nobody left to move on to.”
“What do you mean there’s nobody left? What about Rodriguez?” Cooper asked .
Lucas shook his head. “He was the second one Adam rejected.”
“Oh yeah.” Cooper nodded. “Right, he was the one who screwed Miranda while she was supposedly googly eyed for Adam.”
“Is he still going out with her?” Brandon asked.
“No,” Adam said. “He’s with some model from Paris. Not that it matters. His stuff’s too angry. We need someone more in line with where we are.”
“Which is where, exactly?” LT poked him on the shoulder. “Besides still pissed off at Johnny J.”
Adam swatted back at him but missed. “I’m not pissed off. He’s doing the right thing. If my daughter had leukemia, I’d drop all of you in a hot second.” His throat tightened. He, Johnny J, and Cooper had always been tight. The loss, even though it was totally understandable, still stung.
“Admit it, you were rip-roaring angry,” Flynn said. “You stuck one of my sticks through the bass drum.”
Adam winced. It hadn’t been his proudest moment. “I wasn’t pissed off. I was worried about Trisha, and disappointed. You know, for us.”
“Your disappointment cost fifteen hundred dollars,” Cooper muttered.
Adam flashed him a dirty look. “Johnny J’s as much a brother to me as the rest of you. We’ve been writing songs together since we were ten years old, so of course I miss him. But his wife and daughter need him right now. He made the right call.”
“Gentlemen, please, can we focus on the task at hand?” Lucas gestured at Cooper. “Let’s hear the song before we start burning it in effigy, shall we?”
“Gotcha.” Cooper spun around, pushed a button, then a few levers .
Adam knew from the first seven notes that he would hate the song, because he’d used those same notes for the first song he ever wrote. They belonged originally “Beat It” by Michael Jackson. He’d spoofed the song for a joke back in high school and told Rachel about it during one of their love-making sessions.
The fact that she’d used it for her audition meant she wasn’t serious about working with him and the band. She was flipping him off from a distance.
“No,” Adam said. “Cut it.”
Lucas held up a finger. “You have to hear the entire first verse. That’s the rule. And, Adam, if you turn this one down, there’s not much left. Your reputation precedes you, my friend.”
Adam scowled and turned his back on the room to stare at the floor-to-ceiling montage on the wall. A large poster of their first performance on a real stage was the focal point, surrounded by photos of Brandon’s prom, LT’s first motorcycle, Cooper arm in arm with his girlfriend from senior year, and Flynn buying his first real drum set.
Their entire life as a band was on that wall, good times and bad. It was both a scrapbook and a reminder to not take themselves too seriously.
A sultry voice snaked through the air to a melody that would have worked well for porn if it hadn’t been for the ridiculous upbeat behind it.
Where did you go, why did you disappear?
Cooper hit the Pause button. “Think she has anyone specific in mind?”
Adam could hear the smirk in his voice. He glowered at the wall and did his best to ignore his now former best friend.
“Don’t leave me, Adam!” Flynn wailed.
“Just play the damn song,” Lucas growled .
“Fine, fine.” Cooper hit Play.
Don’t want to face my life without you near.
Cooper hit Pause again. “Didn’t you break up two years ago?”
“Two and a half,” Brandon supplied in a helpful tone.
“Right. Okay.” Cooper hit Play.
The fire’s in my heart and my blood is running clear.
Flynn hit the edge of the soundboard with a drumstick and shouted, “So beat it!”
I need you, I want you…oh
Cooper stopped the song, and laughter filled the space where horrible music used to be.
“What the fuck?” Adam spun around to stare at Lucas. “Did you even listen to this crap before you brought it over here?”
“I thought it was charming.” Lucas spread his hands in false apology. “I told you, son, we’re scraping the bottom of the songwriter barrel out there.”
“That’s not even close to the barrel, Lucas. She’s trolling us—and you. ”
“My blood is running clear?” LT said. “What’s that even mean? She a vampire?”
“Yeah, she sucks blood, music, and Adam’s…you know.” Flynn beat a ba-dum-bump rhythm out on the back of a chair.
The guys all laughed harder.
“She’s the only one in the last three weeks to even return my call,” Lucas said with exaggerated patience.
Adam suppressed the surge of irritation. He could imagine the conversations Lucas was having on his behalf. He probably sounded like a snake oil salesman offering the latest potion. “Maybe you should stop leaving messages and actually go see people. Or hell, I’ll go see them. Who haven’t you tried?”
Lucas shook his head. “Won’t do you any good. Most of the good ones are attached to projects, and the ones who aren’t have the impression that you’re difficult to work with. They don’t want to waste their time.”
“Neither do I.” Adam scowled at his bandmates. “Knock it off.”
Brandon laughed harder.
Flynn mocked him through fits of laughter. “I want you. I need you! Oh baby, oh baby, oh baby!”
Adam picked up a pillow and threw it at him. “Let’s find someone new. Someone fresh.”
“Yeah, someone who doesn’t want to get in Adam’s pants.” LT chuckled. “Like a nun.”
“I’d be more than happy to do that, if there was anyone left to find. Men, I need you to work with me here. Help me, help you .” Lucas turned to Adam. “I’ve done all I can on my own. Give me a name,—any name—that you’re willing to work with, and I’ll do my best to get that person onboard.”
Adam opened his mouth to protest that it wasn’t his fault, but before he could launch into the same tired speech he’d given a dozen times before, everyone shouted out two words in perfect unison: “Mattie Bellamy.”
Brandon nodded enthusiastically. “He’s been beating it to her poster since high school.”
Adam levelled his best glare at his soon-to-be-dead younger brother. “Shut the hell up, Brandon.”
Lucas raised his eyebrows. “She’s locked into an extremely lucrative project with Devon Morales right now. Not sure she’ll even take calls, but I can check with her manager.”
“She’s done with him, according to Twitter and Instagram,” Cooper said. He raised his phone and showed them the screen, then flipped it around to read, “‘Truth is, I loved her, and she used me. Hashtag hurts when love dies.’”
“Ouch,” LT said.
Adam frowned. He followed Mattie Bellamy on all social media platforms, but somehow he’d missed that one. “What a prick.”
“You’ve had a thing for her forever,” Flynn said. “Have you even tried to meet her?”
“No,” Brandon supplied before Adam could speak. “He worships her from a distance.”
“Why?” Flynn tapped the back of his chair. “You’re hot. If I were a chick, I’d totally do you.”
“I wouldn’t,” Brandon said.
“I wouldn’t do either one of you.” Adam glared at them. “Leave it. She’s busy.”
“No she’s not,” Cooper said. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. They broke up. Here, this one spells it out. ‘She knows I wrote the words. I’m done letting her ride my coat tails. Just wish it didn’t hurt so much. Hashtag Heartbreak Blues.’”
“That’s complete and utter bullshit. There’s no way he wrote that song.” Adam hummed the first few notes, then sang the next line. “‘I’ll be there like the sun after the storm.’ He might have had a hand in the melody, but the words are all hers.”
“What makes you say that?” Lucas asked.
“Dude,” Brandon said, “he knows every note of every Bellamy song. Don’t test him. We’ll be stuck listening to them the rest of the day.”
Adam gestured at Cooper. “If you queue up ‘Every Rainy Day’ off the first album, the words mimic the second verse of that, but more important, listen to the bridge. It’s basically a lead-up to the melody they used for Morales’s shiny new hit, which wouldn’t be a hit at all without Mattie Bellamy. The guy’s a complete ass.”
Lucas held up his hands. “No need to prove it. I believe you.”
Adam paced to the door of the studio and back. If Mattie Bellamy was available, this could be a fantastic opportunity to meet her. Brandon wasn’t wrong. He had followed her for a long time.
He remembered the first Bellamy song he’d ever heard. Every time “I Won’t Let Go” came on the radio, he was instantly transported back to his bedroom in the same house his parents still owned. He’d been trolling YouTube when he came across someone’s recording of The Bellamy Sisters in concert.
Whoever made the clip obviously had a thing for Della, but Adam’s attention had been drawn by the honey blonde who stayed in the background, either on the keyboards or on backup vocals, until the part of the song that brought her to the front of the stage. Her face was radiant and filled with promises.
In his fantasies, she sang that song just for him.
All the things that I thought but I never said,
All the dreams that I reached for but I somehow missed,
All the times that I wanted your arms around me,
They haunt me.
All the places we could have gone but never went
All the ways that I missed you but I never showed
All the memories I cling to that I won’t let go
I need you
I love you
Always
Mattie Bellamy was his high school crush, his teenage dream, and his adult fantasy. He pictured her walking through the front door to the studio. She’d smile, and he’d take her hand, and he’d finally, finally , know what it was like to be next to a living, breathing, priceless work of art.
“Adam?” Lucas tapped his shoulder. “You with me, buddy?”
Adam jumped. He hadn’t heard a word anyone had said since he started picturing himself and Mattie together. From the looks he was getting, everyone in the room knew exactly what was going on.
His brother rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Adam can’t come to the phone right now. He’s lost on an island with that sweet Southern Bellamy Babe.”
“I’m not lost, you giant pain in my ass.” Adam paced over to one of the executive chairs and gripped the back of it. “I’m right here, thinking through this important business decision.”
LT smirked. “Business. Right.”
“Her accent is hot.” Cooper winked .
“Grow up, will you?” Adam looked around for something else to throw, but the pillows were all out of reach now, and Flynn hid his drumsticks. “We’re not in high school anymore.”
“It’s a good thing, because if we were you’d never get within a mile of that girl,” Brandon said. “Especially if she saw your bedroom at home. She’d think you were psycho.”
“Odds are you couldn’t even get in line to see her even now,” Cooper said. “At least, that’s what it looks like on Twitter.”
“That’s who I want,” Adam insisted.
Lucas looked doubtful. “Not sure I can deliver that.”
Adam leveled his best get-it-done stare at the man. “It’s her or nobody.”
“Son, we’re under contract to provide sixty-five minutes of new content, spread over at least thirteen tracks.” Lucas straightened to his full five-foot-five height. “We can’t just leave them off. At last count, you have ten tracks complete, for forty-seven minutes. You’re three tracks and fourteen minutes short of the promised land.”
“We aren’t due to release for another six months,” Adam pointed out.
“Which will go by in a blink if you keep rejecting partners,” Lucas said patiently.
“If we don’t write something new with Mattie, we’ll go to Plan B.” Adam shrugged. “I’ll pull something out of the vault.”
“I don’t think any of those are ready for prime time,” Cooper said. “Maybe we should try the think tank approach first.”
“The last time we tried to write a song as a group the neighbor’s dog actually howled when I played it.” LT picked up wayward pillows and tossed them onto the couch. “They called the cops for noise violation.”
“Songs by committee don’t work,” Adam said. That wasn’t exactly true, but now that they’d put the idea of Mattie into his head, he couldn’t get it back out. Hell, he didn’t want to get it back out. For the first time since Johnny J left, he felt a spark of hope that a great new song might be in his grasp, and he wasn’t about to walk away without at least trying to meet her. “We need someone actually good with words. Johnny J was world class, but he’s not an option. That leaves Mattie Bellamy. She’s the best songwriter of our generation. So let’s get her.” He turned to Lucas. “Make it happen.”
Lucas pulled out his phone. “I’ll give it a try, but I can’t promise anything.”
“And Lucas?”
Lucas paused with his fingers over the screen.
“Make sure you tell Rachel the joke’s on her,” Adam said.
There was no way anything Rachel did would live up to even one line written by Mattie Bellamy.