13. Nash
13
NASH
A nytime we get a call from James to say the label wants to see us, usually it could be one of two things. One, they want to discuss the upcoming record and where we’re at with the songs in production, or two, they want to chew our asses out for bad press in the tabloids. With my fake relationship with Kinsley being the most talked about in the media for the past three weeks, I’m hoping it’s the former.
As far as I know, the media and everyone worldwide has bought the fake relationship. Thank fuck. It didn’t take long for photos of the little devil and me to be on the front page of every magazine and newspaper. With headlines reading, Respected actress is dating the lead singer of a problematic rock band. How long will their relationship last? It’s just one bullshit headline after the next.
But the publicity stunt seems to be working, as far as I know. James has told us our record sales are through the roof at the moment. Many fans are demanding more merch, records, and even concerts. It was a pleasant surprise, to say the least, to hear such feedback after only three weeks into the fake relationship. I can only imagine what will happen by the end of the contract.
Our driver has the radio playing softly in the front. Even at this volume, I hear the male reporter mention my name.
“Now, Sonya, I know you’re just as shocked as I am to hear Nash Beck is now a taken man. And by Kinsley May of all people. At first, I couldn’t believe it, given Nash’s track record. But it seems the two are an item and a popular one at that.”
“You’re right, Jerry. Every tabloid magazine has their faces splashed across it. I must admit that it’s good to see Nash on the straight and narrow now. If anyone can change a man like Nash Beck, it’s Kinsley May, Hollywood’s Sweetheart.”
I roll my eyes. It’s not the first time a reporter has said this in the past three weeks. And it probably won’t be the last.
“What do you think the label wants to talk to us about?” Hudson asks from beside me as the limo rolls to a stop out the front of Black Box Record Label.
“Who knows,” Luca says from the seat across from me. He runs his fingers through the ends of his long hair. “It could be anything, really. Although, I doubt we will be getting our asses chewed out.”
Axel frowns beside him. “What makes you think that?”
“Nash’s publicity stunt with Blondie has been going well, no?” Luca comments with a shrug.
“He’s right.” I take a drag from the cherry between my lips. Smoke spills from my lips like a dragon breathing fire. “They must want to see us about the record.”
“How is the last song coming along?” Hudson asks, his gray eyes meeting mine.
I drag my lip ring between my teeth and contemplate my answer. I can’t tell them I’ve made no progress in the song other than finalizing the instrumental because I have no fucking clue what to do about the lyrics. Nothing is coming to me, and it’s driving me insane. I can't force the song because then it’ll turn out shit. I need to let the inspiration come to me. But it’s taking way too long, and it’s frustrating beyond belief.
“Yeah. Fine,” I respond, and take another drag from the cigarette. “Anyway, let’s get inside and get this over with.”
The four of us pile out of the black limousine and head inside the sleek building. When we enter the foyer, all eyes turn to us. The blonde receptionist smiles and waves from the front desk, while everyone else passing by stops to stare at the four men in leather pants, chains, big hair, and black shirts.
They’re acting like they’ve never seen a fucking rock band despite working at a record label.
We head toward the elevator and ride it to the fifteenth floor. The doors open to a large office space with cubicles and offices. Stale smoke mixed with cheap perfume and cologne lingers in the air.
As we walk toward the meeting room where James and our producer are waiting for us, I feel the eyes of the workers watching us as we pass by. It’s not an unusual feeling, to say the least. I hated being watched at first when Dark Angel started to grow in the media, but now it doesn’t bother me in the slightest.
James stands from his chair when we enter the room and gestures for us to take a seat around the rectangular table. Mandy, our producer and head of the label, gives us a warm smile as we take a seat.
I blow out a long breath as I lean back in the leather chair, regarding Mandy from across the table. She’s an older woman with graying hair, wrinkles around her eyes, and the fiercest features known to man. She is the type of woman who could chew your balls and spit them out in your face. I learned very quickly not to fuck with her because she is ruthless and refuses to take my shit. I guess you have to be in this industry.
“How is my favorite band doing?” Mandy asks, although I know she’s not looking for a response. She knows how we’re doing since she speaks to James every day. “Now, there are two things I want to discuss today.”
Great . Here we fucking go .
“One,” Mandy continues, her eyes finding mine across the table, “I want to thank Nash for putting in the effort with the publicity stunt with Miss May. Sales for records and merch have skyrocketed and the fans are demanding more.”
“Nice.” Axel grins. “Couldn’t have done it without our Nashie boy.”
“That’s correct,” Mandy says with a nod. “If it wasn’t for him committing to the deal, then we wouldn’t be able to put on a surprise concert next week at the Memorial Coliseum.”
My eyes nearly bulge out of my head. Leaning forward, I don’t take my eyes off Mandy. “Are you being fucking serious? Do you think we can sell out that stadium without any notice for when tickets go on sale?”
Mandy nods, her eyes looking around the table at the four of us. “Yes. I do. Nash, the demand for Dark Angel in the past three weeks has been unlike anything we’ve ever seen. You think the band was popular before, well… that was nothing compared to what you are now.”
I lean back in the chair and blow out a long breath. “Well, fuck me.”
The little devil did this. But how? What is it about her that everyone loves so much? Enough to gain this much attention and demand for Dark Angel. I mean, she is beautiful, don’t get me wrong, and she knows how to get what she wants. But how did she make this happen in just three weeks?
My heart involuntarily swells with warmth at the thought of Kinsley making this possible.
“Holy shit,” Hudson breathes from beside me, his eyes wide. “This is bat shit crazy.”
“Crazy is one word for it,” Luca says, swallowing hard. “So, what does this mean, Mandy?”
Mandy shuffles some papers around in front of her before looking between us and James. “It means you need to get in the studio and prepare a setlist for the show. It’s one night only, so make it count because it’s going to be a sellout. And if possible, include a song off the new record as a surprise for the fans.” She stands from her chair and makes a move to leave but hesitates. I lift my eyes to meet her brown ones, and she smiles. “Make sure you bring the girl with you, okay?”
We sit in stunned silence as Mandy leaves the room, closing the door behind her with ease as if she didn’t just drop a fucking bomb on us. My mind is racing a million miles per minute as I try to process what the fuck just happened.
“Well,” James clears his throat, fixing the neckline of his suit jacket, “I guess we better start preparing for the show.”
“Do you really think we can sell it out?” Luca asks. I see the self-doubt creeping over his features, and I’m sure the rest of us mirror his emotions. “I mean… it just seems so far-fetched, you know? We have never played at a venue that large before.”
“What makes the label think we can sell out that stadium with a week's notice?” The stress and uncertainty is clear in Axel’s voice.
“The girl,” James says simply, meeting my eyes.
I inhale a deep breath and close my eyes. A feeling of dread and uncertainty washes over my body, which is a sign that I’m feeling overwhelmed and panicked. It’s not a feeling I’m unfamiliar with. It’s something that tends to take over when a major event happens in my life. It’s been that way since I was a kid.
At first, I would deal with it by taking a long, hot shower and listening to music. But as I got older, I fought the feeling with drugs and alcohol. Nothing else was working and it was the first thing I turned to.
Now, as the idea of having to put together a fucking show in one week settles heavily on my shoulders, and the sense of dread that comes with that kind of pressure, all I can think about is the two things that comfort me the most—Jack Daniels and blow.
You’re a failure, Nash.
You will never find success.
No one will ever love you.
I run a hand through my curls and tug on the roots. “Fuck,” I curse as a bite of pain shoots across my scalp.
I wish the voices in the back of my mind would shut the fuck up. Now is not the time for them to rear their heads. They enjoy seeing me suffer. They get off on reminding me of the memories of my childhood. They fucking love seeing me in pain.
Sensing my distress, James turns in his seat to face me. “Nash, it’s going to be okay. All you need to do is focus on the setlist and I’ll handle everything else, okay? Everything is going to be all right.”
I nod, although I’m not really listening to him. All I can focus on is the rushing in my ears and the hammering of my heart as I feel myself crumbling inward, desperate for a breath of fresh air.
Fuck .
After the meeting with James and Mandy, I went straight home and chugged nearly half a bottle of Jack Daniels. It was the only way to calm the storm brewing deep inside of me.
How the fuck are we supposed to prepare for a concert in one week? Mandy is batshit crazy if she thinks this is a good idea.
Yes, Dark Angel has some of the most loyal and dedicated fans, but is that enough to sell out the damn Memorial Coliseum with one week’s notice? I sure fucking hope so. I would hate to look out at empty seats where fans should be. It would be a reminder that we fucking failed, and I can’t have that happen.
I lean my head back on the couch and close my eyes. A half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels is in my right hand and a lit cigarette is in the other.
For the first time in who knows how long, I told Johnny to leave for the night because I needed to be alone. It’s not something I’m used to or enjoy doing since I like to be around people—it helps to distract me—but after the bomb that was dropped on me today, I needed some time to think it over.
I have been sitting like this on the couch since I returned home four hours ago, wallowing in self-pity. I hate getting lost in my thoughts because it’s dangerous territory. My mind is not a good place for me because it influences me to do things I probably shouldn’t, and over the years I’ve had to learn to keep away from it as much as possible. Having people in my space helps with that, but now… I’m fucking freefalling into the darkest depths of my mind and I’m worried about what I might do.
The sun is setting outside when my Motorola MicroTAC rings on the couch beside me. With a groan, I slip the cherry between my lips and grab the phone. “What do you want?”
“Well, hello to you too.”
I close my eyes at the sound of the little devil’s sweet voice. For some reason, it comforts me in my turmoil more than I thought it would.“Little devil, is there a reason why you’re calling me?”
“Yes, actually,” she answers. Loud voices sound in the background and I frown. She must be at work. “We haven’t been sticking to the ground rules the past three weeks.”
Releasing the bottle of Jack, I grip the cherry between my fingers and take a long drag before blowing out the thick smoke. “How so?”
A pause.
“Well, we haven’t gone out on a date yet. I vividly remember telling you that one date a week would be part of the deal and we haven’t done it once.”
I screw my eyes shut and rub at my temple. A pounding headache is forming behind my eyes that is almost blinding. It’s nothing a little bit of blow can’t fix, though. Or it could make it worse. Either way, I’m still going to do it. “Look, Blondie, I don’t know if I’m in the mood for a date tonight.”
She blows out a sharp breath of annoyance. “Well, I don’t care what you’re in the mood for, Nash. The sooner we get this date over with, the sooner you can go back to doing whatever it is you’re doing. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
My hand squeezes the chunk of plastic pressed against my ear. God, this woman is so fucking infuriating. She is so goddamn stubborn that it drives me insane.
“Kinsley…”
“Look,” she interrupts me, which only makes me more annoyed. “I promise it’ll only take an hour out of your time, okay? I know a nice restaurant downtown I frequent often that can get us in and out quickly. Just… please, we need to do this.”
I exhale a sharp breath, my lips thinning. As much as I would get enjoyment out of telling her to fuck off, I know I can’t do it. She’s right. I did agree to the terms of the ground rules, and the publicity stunt is working, so we do need to keep up appearances. But it doesn’t mean I’m fucking happy about it.
“Fine,” I grunt, and take another drag of the cherry. I’m going to need a lot more than nicotine to get me through the turmoil in my mind tonight. The unexpected dinner plans don’t help either. I stand from the couch, leaving the Jack Daniels bottle behind, and head into the kitchen. “I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
“Oh, you don’t have to?—”
“Either I pick you, or we don’t go at all, little devil. What’s it going to be?”
I swing the fridge door open and gaze inside, scanning over the random condiments, old pizza boxes and cups of noodles, and the suspicious looking container with an unknown substance inside. When my eyes land on the bottle of Budweiser, images of my dad drinking the same beer flash in my mind at rapid speed, nearly knocking the breath out of my lungs.
Who the fuck bought these? And why are they in my fridge?
My hand immediately clenches at the memory of broken glass on the floor and his harsh words knocking me into submission.
I slam the door shut and palm my eyes with my free hand, attempting to push the memories from my mind. But unfortunately, they’re burned into the depths of my soul.
Kinsley sighs into the receiver, her sweet voice pulling my attention away from my childhood memories. “Okay. Sure. I’ll see you in an hour. But don’t be late, Nash. I mean it.”
“I’m never late, little devil.”