In Rhythm, page 14
“I’m with you.” Candy grabbed her bag. “I’ll be back.”
Velvet hung around as techies moved their equipment and roadies prepped for Tres Armadas. The stage morphed into an even bigger, more elaborate, strobe light and LED masterpiece with moving parts.
Velvet sipped on some water. She could go backstage but she enjoyed Tres Armadas’s entry and the fans’ excitement gave her motivation to be better and to one day command the same level of fandom.
Tres Armadas had a few minutes before they took the stage. As they mingled with a small group, Velvet’s eyes targeted Zazzle and she absorbed his image, from his dark brown hair down to his black leather and white-soled kicks. His loose zebra print shirt with red design on the front complemented the black jeans form-fitted against his thighs. She appreciated his fashion sense but his confidence made him irresistible.
“Hey,” she greeted.
“Awesome set.” His half smile weakened her knees and she leaned on a speaker.
“Thanks.”
“Where’s Candy?”
“She’s off doing Candy things. She’ll be back.”
“Cool.” He scratched his head, and a mix of earthy scents emitted from his clothes.
“I don’t normally see you until just before you guys go on.”
“I sometimes sit in a bit of silence backstage. I guess you can say I’m taking baby steps to smooth the hard edges of my day to day.”
“Adjusting to life on the outside, huh?”
He chuckled. “Something like that.”
Someone came and handed him a to-go cup with a tea bag paper dangling out the top.
“Your weed tea?” she asked.
“If that’s what you want to call it. I just call it tea.” He blew at the steam rising from the opening and sipped.
Velvet still wasn’t convinced about the advantages of using the oil but she hadn’t researched it yet. “Tell me again why you drink it?”
“It’s to help with anxiety and depression. Separating from drugs and alcohol is like losing your best friends. Grief plays a part. So it helps me stabilize those emotions along with medication.” Zazzle side-eyed as if he evaluated her reaction to his admission.
She nodded. “It’s not easy to share that, Isaak. So thank you.” She stroked his arm and the fine hairs there. He exposed details most people kept secret. Even if they weren’t together, he felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable. “Do you need it? The oil I mean.”
“I wouldn’t say I need it, no.” He took a longer sip from his tea. “It’s helpful, in addition to meditation and therapy.”
Reynard used to be neurotic about doing things the right way when he got out of rehab but Velvet had seen the tightrope DJ FeNom walked. Zazzle, on the other hand, kept to his routine but he sure was Zen about it and that knowledge strangely relaxed her.
“Want to taste?” He offered her his tea.
“What’s it taste like?”
“Let me think about that for one second...hmm...tea.” Humor decorated his face, swirling her around like a bowling pin that refused to fall over. Months ago when she’d crashed into him with Nuts, her scooter, his comedic streak ran down his back then, too. He offered her the cup.
“Will it do something to me?” She read the cup like tarot cards.
“As opposed to doing something to me?” He again blew on the cup to cool the liquid and then handed it to her.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this. You promise it won’t do anything to me?”
“I promise.” His baritone was too heavy and if the tea didn’t make her high being this close to him did.
She took a sip of the hot liquid. She tasted lemon and green tea leaves with grassy, earthy notes. She smacked her lips.
“It’s tart but minty and it doesn’t really taste too much like anything other than tea.”
He smirked. “See, you can trust me.”
“I don’t know about all that,” she mumbled. Part of her did trust him. Glimpses of the man she’d gallivanted with at the festival shined through and if she wasn’t careful, she’d fall headfirst again, but this time she feared she’d smother him with critical evaluation and caretaker behaviors.
The MC announced that Tres Armadas would be onstage in a few minutes and the thunderous roar echoed around them.
“That’s for you guys.” She pointed in the general direction of the audience. “Do you ever get tired of it?”
He peeked out at the packed crowd. “Never. If I did, I should retire.”
She nudged him and shivered at the slight touch between them.
“What I’m trying to do now is leave Zazzle on the stage and live my life as Isaak.”
She related to what he spoke of. Going after her dream, her grind was nonstop. “I get it. I feel like I have to be on all the time. The fans have almost a cult following for your onstage persona. Has that been hard for you?”
“A bit, but my routine supports the separation. The transition from one to the other after performances is almost...ritualistic? It’s not a clear line but I’ve come to understand myself better so I prepare and plan as best I can.” He shifted gears. “There isn’t much we can know before voting opens but do you feel like you’re making progress? I heard the boos earlier but the audience cheered for you by the end of your set.”
“Yeah. I’ve been checking our numbers and our hope is to drop an early single or two from our album but it has to be fire, you know. If it doesn’t hit, it could do more harm than good. I love what we have so far but Candy and I still have work to do.”
“Your stuff is great. Trust it. I’m sure it’ll work out,” he said.
“Thanks.” Doubts continued to cloud her creativity but his faith in her gave her new energy. Her time with him was sectioned into two phases: before and after the Egyptian. For the first time since their reunion, warning signs about his recovery didn’t flash about him. The warning signs around her heart, however, roared to life. All she’d done was taste his tea. She blushed at the puns tickering above her head.
Candy approached and Velvet welcomed her arrival until she saw who accompanied her. The same man Velvet saw when they were at the mixer in Germany. That this guy was in Stockholm had her instincts up.
“Coincidences, my ass. Who is this buster?” Velvet glowered in the man’s direction.
“Hey, you okay?” Zazzle asked.
“I saw this guy in Germany. I guess he’s part of the scene but it feels like he’s following us.”
Candy’s stalker dude walked in line with her and Velvet decided it was time to get to the bottom of this.
“Hey,” Velvet delivered in cool tones. “Didn’t I see you in Germany?”
“Good memory,” the man said then turned to Zazzle. “Isaak. Long time no see.”
Zazzle gripped his tea tighter and Velvet feared he’d squeeze out the hot contents.
“We weren’t introduced,” Velvet noted.
Candy must have recognized her not-so-friendly disposition and turned up the cheer dial. “This is Willem Graf. He’s a publicist of many talents and we’ve been talking.”
“Talking?” Velvet leaned in. What conversations about business did Candy discuss with Willem that didn’t include her or Sonny?
“He’s been giving me a few pointers about style and stuff. Like how to be an individual even when you’re part of a group.”
“I’m good.” Velvet squared to Willem. “We’re good.”
“Well, I think we should hear what he has to say. He wants to help us with getting Temptation votes,” Candy said.
Someone in the stage area called Zazzle and waved him over to where Christian and Maartin gathered with grips and roadies to get ready for their stage entrance.
Zazzle leaned down and whispered against her ear. “Don’t believe anything he says.”
“Umm... O-kay.”
His hesitancy to leave unsettled her stomach. “I have to go.” Zazzle left, giving Willem a lingering glance that made her cringe.
What was that about?
“Mind if I watch the show with you two? Candy says you like the opening.”
Candy sure gave this guy a lot of information about her. “Yeah, I only stay for the opening.” Then I take my scooter out into the crowd while sucking on a Blow Pop, which is entirely none of your business.
Velvet watched Zazzle with the members of Tres Armadas, and their agitated body language lifted her eyebrows. Whatever triggered them was directed toward her, Candy and Willem. If she were a betting woman, she’d put it all on Willem. Who was this guy?
The artists disappeared and everything went dark. The cheers deafened and goose bumps prickled Velvet’s arm like they did the last few times she’d seen their opening number. The stage, equipped with a false bottom, housed an elevator, and as Maartin, Zazzle and Christian emerged from below, lights flashed and darted over the blackened arena. The crowd exploded and their cheers vibrated every inch of the venue.
“This never gets old.” Velvet’s hushed tone was only audible to her. This was where they aspired to be and no matter how long it took them, converting one fan at a time, Velvet was invested in their future. Witnessing Tres Armadas on tour, and how their team handled their shows and their media, was education worth its weight in emeralds, and Velvet studied hard.
“That’s going to be us, Velveteen,” Candy whispered. “We should hear what Willem has to say. Anything helps, right?”
The show continued and Candy, Willem and Velvet moved further backstage. Velvet still heard the music, but its muffled sound allowed them to carry on a conversation.
“So Candy tells me you guys are really excited to be on tour with Tres Armadas.” Willem moved closer to her. “I can help with that. Put you in front of the right people.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what our agent and manager do for us.”
“Not that cookie-cutter shit they do for all their clients, but just for you. Just for Temptation.”
“Hmm.” Boombox’s short list of clients allowed him time to develop a unique vision with them based on her and Candy’s goals. Leona Sable, one of the best managers in the business, had recommended Sonny when they considered Wallace Entertainment to handle their management. The “right people” already worked for her.
“I can also help with things like your image and wardrobe. Not for nothing, but you could use a sexier look. Candy’s almost there and I’ve given her some pointers. I wouldn’t mind helping you out, too.”
“Yeah?” So that’s what he’d been chattering in Candy’s ear? Promising her more exposure, updating her look?
“Yeah. I can get you into some elite parties. Extremely exclusive. Places that the regular Joe would mortgage his house to attend.”
“You mean exclusive like that festival that was well advertised by that con artist that never happened? Exclusive like that?” She arched a brow.
Willem frowned. “I know you may want to do things on the straight and narrow but I suggest you loosen up a bit and let someone who knows the landscape help you ladies out.”
Obviously, Willem didn’t know anything about her because her path had been far from straight and narrow. She wasn’t a phenomenon signed at age fifteen, and her history housed good and bad stories. She worked hard to be here, studied music and networked one gig and party at a time.
“Tell you what, Willem. I’ll think about it and talk it over with Candy because that’s what we do in a group. We’ll let you know.” Velvet’s condescending tone couldn’t be missed but since when was Candy okay with someone telling her about her wardrobe?
“I hope you’ll do more than think about it. You guys are big enough that you should be headlining by now.” Willem used the passive-aggressive arts to manipulate her.
Velvet didn’t have time to answer her own internal questions when two security guards flanked Willem.
“We’re going to have to escort you from the venue.”
“Excuse me?” Willem’s flustered inquiry accompanied the redness that darkened his face.
“What’s happening? Why does he have to leave?” Candy seemed more frantic than Velvet thought the situation warranted.
“Hey, calm down,” Velvet encouraged. “I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
“Sir, you must come with us. This way.” The Swedish guards didn’t put their hands on Willem but referenced the path they expected him to travel.
“This is ridiculous.” Willem huffed.
“The artists and their management have revoked any previous backstage access.”
“But why would they do that? He’s with us,” Candy explained.
“Not exactly,” Velvet mumbled.
“Velvet?”
Velvet shrugged. “I don’t know what’s happening. I just met him.”
Candy flapped her arms.
Velvet didn’t know what shit storm she stepped into but if Tres Armadas and their team revoked Willem’s backstage access, as a publicist, that meant he was blacklisted. Being blacklisted was never a good thing.
“Okay, I’ll go.” Willem turned to Candy, gave her a lengthy kiss on the cheek and whispered a few words before he was escorted away.
Candy had started to give chase when Velvet stopped her in her tracks.
“Whoa! What’s going on with you? You barely take fashion advice from me. Now you’re taking it from this guy?” Velvet asked when Willem was barely out of earshot.
“It’s called change and I’m allowed to do it,” Candy said.
“We change all the time, but it’s because we’re creatively expressing ourselves. Not because some dude suggested it. Not to mention the same dude that was just escorted out of here. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“He wants to help me.”
That Candy no longer referred to them as a group punched her ego.
“What about Bedazzled Beats?”
“Sometimes it’s okay for us to express ourselves artistically as individuals.”
Velvet studied Candy. Her friend’s lack of eye contact was so obvious her head bobbled like a doll.
“We still talking about fashion?”
“Willem thinks it would be good for me to be featured on some other tracks. Get my name out there.”
“I’ve never held you back from doing that. I’ve always had my vinyl projects since before we met and were learning together. You talked about doing some creative things, too. We used to talk with LED about doing that all the time.”
“Fuck! You bring him up now, Asha?”
“Hold on.” Velvet held up a hand. “When did it become off-limits to even say his name?”
“Since we broke up.”
“And I’m supposed to know that how? You won’t talk to me about it.”
Candy gnashed her teeth. “I don’t have to tell you everything.”
Velvet scoffed. “We’ve been best friends for years and you’ve literally almost told me everything.”
“I have to go get ready.”
“Willem taking you out somewhere?”
“Yeah. Actually he is.”
Velvet ground her teeth and served Candy all the sauce she could muster.
“Maybe—” Candy shifted “—things are changing. You’re just going to have to deal with it.” She stormed off.
“I’m already dealing with it.” Velvet stared at her friend’s back.
Chapter Fifteen
Zazzle kicked himself in the ass for not broaching the Willem subject with Velvet and Candy. The way Candy had clung to Willem made it obvious he’d already gotten to one half of the duo. He wasn’t about to let Willem get his claws into Velvet. When Zazzle, Maartin and Christian had identified Willem, they did something they hadn’t done since the months leading up to his UK return to their tour. Agreed.
“Get his ass out of here.” Christian had called security over. “That man over there is banned from backstage access for all Tres Armadas concerts.”
“Yes, remove him, immediately.” Maartin texted Maggie to make her aware.
For a brief moment, he and his bandmates weren’t at odds and made a decision together without argument. For the first time since he’d been back, their interactions felt like the partners and the united friends they once were.
“Do the girls know who he is and what he’s capable of? What he’s done?” Maartin asked.
“No. I haven’t told them. He was in Germany at the club.”
“And you didn’t say anything to them then?” Christian scolded.
“Isaak.” Maartin winced. “You have to tell them. You may not want to relive your drug days but they have no idea who Willem is.”
“You’re on, guys,” a stagehand directed.
“I will. We have to get onstage.”
They didn’t see security take care of Willem but if Maartin texted Maggie she’d make sure that Willem was off the premises as soon as possible.
In the past, Willem had been a friend. One who supplied him with drugs when he needed them. In his dazed-out memory he couldn’t quite remember if it was always at his own behest or if Willem kept him high and making bad business decisions to keep his drug income steady. Either way, Zazzle had a bad feeling about how Willem hung around Bedazzled Beats. Velvet seemed immune, as opposed to Candy’s intrigue. They traveled together as a team and for his own sake and the sake of the tour he’d keep Willem at a distance.
He concentrated on their show, and the fans that they played to, for the next few hours.
After the show, Maartin and Christian attended an after-party downtown and he went back to his hotel room. The hotel still crawled with concertgoers who weren’t ready to let the night come to an end. He tightened the black leather jacket he donned to ward off the chill evening temperatures of Stockholm in late May. Since his sobriety he felt the cold down to his bones a bit more and shivered. A security escort walked with him though the vacant pool area, where the sound of splashing water caught his attention. A woman, sitting on the edge of the pool, dangled her feet in the water. Her jeans were rolled up to her knees, and her high-top boots and a scooter lay behind her. If it weren’t for the silver bubble jacket she wore, he might not have been able to make out Velvet’s figure.
