17. Raina
W e’ve made it through two more shows, Pittsburgh and Philly, bringing us to the big apple. Once we finish our New York City performance, we’ll have five days off and I can’t freaking wait. Alyssa has been up my ass trying to insert herself in every little thing she can. And if it wasn’t for Gill, I’m sure things would’ve derailed a thousand times over.
Now that I’m sober this time around, it’s so easy to see all the toxicity surrounding me. I’m not sure if the entire industry is like this—I really hope it isn’t—but it seems everything the owner of the label touches gets tainted.
Drugs are everywhere. Women who come in with backstage passes are either high, drunk, or both, leaving consent non-existent for the copious amounts of intercourse. Pills litter tables along with lines of coke, tempting me toward the numbness that became my home for so long. The only thing keeping me from falling into that trap is knowing it means he won.
I won’t lose myself again. I’ll fight to climb out of this snake pit until I’m free.
Then there’s Carmen who’s been spending so much time with Dickless getting groomed that she’s impossible to be around. Not that she was that great to be around from the moment we met. Her ego has been stroked so much, she acts like she’s queen of the tour, making outlandish demands and, to my horror, getting most of them.
Six shows down.
Tristan has been missing for just over a week with no sign of him.
Fuck.
“There she is!” The voice sends a chill down my spine, and my stomach flips before cramping. “My sweet angel, here to sing again.”
I should’ve been more careful about checking the rooms before I walk into them, but I grew complacent without seeing him the last several shows. We’re in the great NYC though, I should’ve assumed he’d be here.
“Uncle,” I greet, barely voicing the word without gritting my teeth. I fucking hate him, and that hate only grows each and every time I have to be around him. I can’t stop the memories from coming back of how he tricked me into it being okay to touch me, until it escalated to where he’d held me down, shoving my face into the bed as he ripped my clothes from my body and—
Keaton presses his palm to the middle of my back, his sticks held between us, giving me support. Keaton is my calm and steady. A rock in a raging storm. Someone I can count on. He’s consistently been here whenever I’ve needed him, watching my back. He’s my silent bodyguard.
And damn, do I think he’s stolen my heart along the way.
“I wanted to talk to you again about doing a duet with Carmen. I’m taking her to the Connecticut recording studio at my compound during the upcoming break to work on producing her album.” His arm extends, and Carmen appears as if out of nowhere, nestling into his side as he pulls her close with his embrace. Of course she was near by. He reaches his free hand toward me and cups my cheek. “Having my two girls singing together would be the sweetest sound. It’ll be a blast.”
I resist the urge to flinch away as my skin burns with his contact, it takes everything in me to force myself to hold still. All I want to do is delete the thoughts of what he believes would happen with the two of us there. My skin crawls at his touch, but I focus on Keaton’s steady presence behind me. The pressure of his palm and drumsticks against my back ground me, reminding me that I’m not alone in this. Not anymore.
My throat tightens, but I manage to plaster a polite smile on my face even if my nostrils flare with the steadying breath I slowly blow out. The tension in the room grows thick as I try to figure out the best way possible to say fuck no. But that would cause a retaliation war that’s out of my depth. I can’t let it crack me. He doesn’t get that satisfaction, not ever again.
“I appreciate the offer,” I say, my voice calm and steady, the complete opposite of what’s going on inside. “But I’m going to have to decline. It’s just not the right time with breaking in the new band and Tristan’s still missing.”
I take a careful step back, slipping out of his reach. His fingers linger in the air for a second as a shadow of darkness passes over his eyes, then they drop to his side. Carmen’s gaze flickers between us, confusion shadowing her perfectly poised smile. It’s like she can’t comprehend that I said no.
Dickless lets out a disappointed sigh. “Do you really want to let this chance get away? Carmen is fixing to blow up, she’ll be the biggest pop star of this century, and to be honest, you need this more than her. Nevertheless, I’m willing to make it happen. Carmen and you—together—would be magic.”
I force another tight smile, my teeth clenched behind it. He’s always had a way of spinning things to make me doubt myself, to make me question my decisions. Not to mention subtly insulting me like I’m dumb. But not this time. Not anymore.
“I’m sure Carmen will do great on her own,” I say, trying to inject some warmth into the words, even though I don’t mean it. “It’s… not my kind of project.”
His eyes narrow slightly, and I brace myself for whatever manipulation or guilt trip is about to follow. But before he can speak, Keaton’s hand subtly shifts on my back, a silent message that I’m not doing this alone.
“Raina’s got her own vision,” Nash says from behind us, his voice firm but calm. “She’s working on some new stuff. It’s fresh and exciting. I think you’ll like it.” I appreciate his faith in the lyrics he read from my notebook, but I haven’t decided to do anything with them yet. My stomach flips again at the thought… I guess the decision to use them has been taken out of my hands. Although, it’s probably a good idea to get started on the final album I owe the label.
Nash’s words hang in the air, and for a split second, my uncle’s facade cracks. The charming smile falters, his eyes darkening as they flick from me to each of the guys. But just as quickly, the mask is back, and he’s chuckling softly, his arm tightening around Carmen, drawing my gaze to where his fingers flex on her hip. The positioning of his hand isn’t appropriate for a fifteen-year-old.
“Well, I suppose you’ve got your reasons,” he says, though the edge in his voice betrays him. He’s pissed as fuck that I’m not pliantly going along with whatever he wants. The last time he got this look, he handed me over to Napalm Delights. “Think it over again, talk to your band. But don’t wait too long, darling. Opportunities don’t always come knocking twice.”
“You promised me,” Carmen whines under her breath. She pouts her bottom lip and balls her fists. She looks like she’s a split second from slamming her foot to the ground in a toddler meltdown.
“Shut the fuck up,” Dickless hisses at her, clearly embarrassed that he has to put up with her. He clears his throat and runs a hand over his crisp white button up. When he lifts his head, it’s like he’s a different person. Quite the Mr. Jekyll and Hyde situation. “What about you, Darius? We could use someone of your talents in the recording session.”
All the air gets sucked out of my lungs. This is the moment. The moment where Darius chooses the label over the band. Shows that he can’t be trusted.
“I appreciate the offer, but I think it’s best that I spend the break focusing on team bonding. Really work on melding our sound and acting cohesively.” Darius shines his smile on me. “Plus, I only came to work with Raina, so I’m exactly where I want to be.”
Instinct has me wanting to trust him, to believe his intentions are pure and exactly how he stated them. Years of being manipulated by Dickless says not to trust anything he’s involved in. It’s an uneasy place to be, and constantly has me on edge.
“If that’s what you want,” Dickless says, his feigned warmth disappearing. He stares at Darius’ shirt and turns with a scoff, not even saying goodbye. Not that I mind. With my own perusal of the shirt, I find he’s wearing yet another band tee for a group unaffiliated with Lexington Productions. No wonder the owner of the label walked off the way he did.
I turn, hiding my smirk, but Darius catches my eye. He runs his hand down his shirt and winks at me. I’m not sure, but I can’t help believing he knows exactly how much it pisses Dickless off and is doing it on purpose.
“ O kay, I got everything set. Good sound check,” the sound engineer says. I found out his name is Gordon—he really doesn’t look like a Gordon to me, but then again I’m not sure what name would fit him better.
“Thanks, Gordon.” I wave as we walk off the stage, finding Izzy and Gill waiting for us. “Hey, ladies. How’s it going?”
Izzy gives me a smile, but it seems a little tight at the corners. “Can we talk?”
Uh, oh. “Yeah, let’s find an empty room.” I turn to the band behind me. “I’ll catch up with you guys when I’m done.”
“Actually,” Izzy cuts in. “I need to speak to all of you.”
I nod and motion for her to go ahead, assuming she has already scoped out a private area. She guides us to a nearby spot, and we all file into the room as Blake shuts the door behind him.
“What’s going on, Izzy? You seem a little tense.”
She grips the side of her tablet and turns to face us as we scrunch together to fit in the tiny space. “As you know, one of the things we’ve been working on is band image and steering the media away from any negative publicity.”
“Oh, no. Did some new rumor pop up?” My stomach clenches, nerves working in overtime at what it could be.
Blake grabs my hand and holds it out of view behind us, giving me some much needed support. This is twice in one day that my men are proving to me they’re here to have my back. I don’t have to go through anything alone again. It’s dumb that I need so many reminders, but I do. I’ve been alone for so freaking long. I just wish we didn’t have to hide it.
“Nothing new, but it is about who you’re dating. I know you don’t want to bring attention to it, but your fans have been extremely outspoken about how much they enjoyed the dance between you and Darius.
“I know, I know,” she says, holding her hands up to stop anyone from interrupting her. “We’ve run the numbers and tested several ideas to work on repairing your image, and one came out far ahead of the others.”
I’m certain I won’t like what she’s about to say, and I’m already prepping myself for the outrage of my men. “What do you suggest?”
“Well the most favorable outcome was you leaning into the rumor of the two of you dating.” She holds up her hands to ward off any of us interrupting knowing we would have emotional reactions. “We can start off slow, putting in more of a flirtatious banter between the two of you in your performance.” She points between me and Darius, indicating exactly who she’s referring to, as if there were any question about it.
“No,” Nash calls out. He moves to step forward, but Keaton holds his arm out, stopping him before he can.
Instead, Keaton slides in front of him. “I’ll do it. Everyone loves the drummer.”
Izzy smiles at him, but it’s easy to see her answer in it. It’s amazing how controlled she can be when dealing with someone like Dickless, but when she’s in a personal client meeting, she drops that mask. It makes me trust her even more, seeing how comfortable she is with me and the guys.
“I know you’d rather it be one of you, but unless you want to start more rumors, then this is the most favorable path.”
“I’m okay with rumors,” Nash says, pushing Keaton aside so he can see Izzy.
Her focus lands on me. “Are you okay with that?”
Of course I want it to be one of my men, but I pause to really think about it from all angles. If I become flirty with someone new on stage, or off for that matter, then it will reinforce the rumors from so long ago that I was jumping from member to member of Napalm Delights.
It would start a chain reaction of headlines that will cause more harm than good. I can already see the tabloids running wild with it, painting me as a harlot, someone who sleeps around with anyone who’s close by.
Fuck, they’d probably label me as a sex addict. They’d love that, wouldn’t they?
I glance over at Darius, who’s watching me carefully, waiting for my reaction. He’s good at his job—too good, maybe. The chemistry we had on stage was undeniable, and the audience ate it up, but that was a one-time thing, a moment of spontaneity. I don’t want it to become something bigger, something people latch onto.
Well… even more than they already have.
My gaze shifts to Nash and Keaton while Blake squeezes my hand. They have my back, always, but the idea of forcing a connection on stage with someone who isn’t them feels wrong. Keaton’s calm presence, Nash’s protective nature, Blake’s ability to settle my nerves—those are what keep me grounded. They’re who I trust, and if we play into this fake flirtation with Darius, there’s a small part of me that worries I might begin to believe it. I’m already too attracted to him for my own good. It’s really not fair for a man to be that gorgeous.
Izzy clears her throat, reminding me she’s still waiting for an answer. I know she’s only doing her job, trying to help me navigate this mess, but it doesn’t make the decision any easier.
It’s not something I want, but I know what’s at stake, and sometimes you have to do what you hate to protect what matters. Everything with my career feels like it’s teetering on a razor sharp edge. If I fall on the wrong side, it could mean the end of everything I’ve built.
I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to make eye contact with Izzy, who’s watching me intently. Darius shifts slightly, arms crossed, clearly indifferent to whatever choice I’m about to make, yet his eyes are glued to the ground, and I swear it looks like he’s holding his breath. Is he hopeful that I’ll say yes? Does he want this to happen?
It takes me a moment to push those thoughts out of my mind and to come to a decision that might make or break me. “Fine,” I say, my voice quieter than I intend. “We’ll go with the flirtation.”
Keaton stiffens, and Nash lets out a frustrated breath, but neither says a word. Blake’s grip tightens almost painfully, and he doesn’t let go. The silence that follows feels heavy, like everyone’s holding back what they really want to say. My heart pounds in my chest, not from excitement, but from the tension that’s already creeping into the room.
Izzy’s smile returns, softer this time, but satisfied. “You’re making the right choice. We’ll work out the details so it feels natural, not forced.”
I glance at Darius, who raises an eyebrow but says nothing. He’s always been smooth, effortlessly charming when he wants to be. He won’t have a problem playing his part, but I know this is going to complicate things—both on stage and off.
Keaton’s fingers brush my arm, and I turn to see the worry in his eyes. I wish I could take it back, tell him I’ll figure out another way, but the truth is, I can’t. This decision isn’t only about me—it’s about the band, they don’t deserve their image to be tarnished by my past. And if this is the price I have to pay to keep that intact, then so be it.
Nash is the first to speak, his voice low. “You sure about this?”
I nod, even though a part of me isn’t. “Yeah. I am.”
Keaton’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he gives me a look that says everything words can’t. He’ll support me, no matter what, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it. And honestly, neither am I.
Izzy claps her hands together, breaking the tension. “Great! We’ll start weaving this into your performances. Don’t worry, it’ll be subtle at first. Just a little more eye contact, maybe some playful touches. The fans will eat it up.”
The room empties slowly, but the weight of my choice lingers, heavier than before. I know this is the best path to take, the one that will quiet the rumors and get everyone off my back, but that doesn’t mean it feels right.