Rock God, page 8
DORIAN: Press release went out and my phone is already ringing off the hook. Are you guys planning to rehearse today?
KINGSTON: Absolutely. Are we going to have to do a press conference?
DORIAN: I was thinking I’d invite a carefully curated handful of journalists we know and trust to rehearsal and you guys can answer questions one-on-one. What do you think?
KINGSTON: Not my favorite idea, but it’s probably the smartest. Does the rest of the band know?
DORIAN: I wanted to talk to you first because I know you hate having the press at rehearsals.
KINGSTON: I appreciate that, but we have to do what’s best overall. If you think this is the way to go, set it up.
DORIAN: All right. I’ll send a group text once I have the details.
KINGSTON: Thanks.
One down, half a dozen to go.
The message from my older brother made me laugh.
REMY: Onyx Knight is in the news again—what the fuck did you do?
KINGSTON: Thanks for the vote of confidence, bro. And I didn’t do anything. Unless you count hiring an extremely attractive new bass player to replace Carter.
REMY: Wait, THAT news is real? I thought it was some bullshit Dorian put out as a deflection because you got hit with another paternity suit or something.
KINGSTON: Ha ha. You’re hilarious. And yes, the news is real. Devyn Cates is our new bassist. You need to come to a show. She’s going to blow you away.
REMY: Yeah? You got anything coming up?
We talked about the upcoming show at the Whiskey and our plans for Christmas before ending the conversation.
I had messages from Sasha, Ford, and my housekeeper, so I dealt with those as quickly as I could before taking my coffee out to the balcony. As I passed the piano, the memory of Devyn and I sitting there together made me smile. I couldn’t explain this crazy attraction I was fighting, and that tease of a kiss she’d planted on me only made it worse.
Taking a sip of coffee, I wondered what it was going to take to stop lusting over someone I couldn’t have. Of course, there was always the possibility that I only wanted her this much because I couldn’t have her. It wasn’t like I couldn’t find female companionship. There were dozens of women in the contacts on my phone who’d jump at the chance to go out with me. Sleep with me. Breathe the same air as me. It was weird sometimes, seeing just how desperate some women were to get close to me.
It had been fun when I was younger, but my life was different now.
Or maybe it was me that was different.
I no longer enjoyed the idea of taking advantage of infatuated women just to distract myself from boredom or whatever else was going on. One-night stands on tour were different. Those women knew the deal and rarely did they expect anything more. But women whose numbers were in my phone, ladies I’d spent time with outside the bedroom, were the ones I worried about. When I was twenty, their feelings hadn’t seemed important. At thirty, I realized I was better than that. What kind of man took advantage of other people’s vulnerabilities? Just because I could didn’t mean I should.
Which brought me back to Devyn.
She wasn’t like anyone I’d ever been involved with.
Hell, the fact that she’d kissed me and then asked me to take her home spoke volumes.
She was more interested in the professional opportunity than in me, and part of me was honest enough to admit that hurt my feelings. Just a little. I respected it, and I really wanted to know what had happened with her old band, but it was the first time in a long time a woman had shot me down.
And I didn’t like it.
She’d made it clear she didn’t want to start anything, despite admitting there was an attraction, so I had two choices: respect her wishes and do the right thing or come up with a way to change her mind.
I already knew which one I was going to pick.
So much for being a better man.
I’d ordered a car service to pick Devyn up for rehearsal today because we didn’t want the paparazzi to get her license plate number and go from there. They could be relentless when they smelled fresh meat, and after this morning’s official announcement, the parking lot was jam-packed with reporters. Normally, I loved the press and nothing made me happier than being the center of attention.
Not today.
Today I wanted to get inside and make sure Devyn was handling everything okay. And that our interlude last night hadn’t freaked her out. If I’d scared her away, the rest of the band would never forgive me.
“Hey.” I nodded at Z and Tommy, who were doing something on their phones. “Devyn here yet?”
Z shook his head. “Not yet, no. And Kel’s running late. Something about his alarm not going off.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“We’ve got three journalists coming at one,” Z said. “Dorian ordered lunch so we can feed them, talk to them, and then let them hear a few songs before we kick them out.”
“The parking lot is already a zoo,” Tommy said. “We called Westfield & Curruthers for some extra security today. They’re sending Grim with a team.”
I nodded. We used Westfield & Carruthers whenever we needed extra back-up. We had a security team on the payroll for when we toured, but they had other gigs when we were home, and I’d known Chains, the owner of Westfield & Carruthers, for a long time.
My phone buzzed and I saw Devyn was texting me.
DEVYN: Help. What do I do? We just pulled up and a bunch of reporters are surrounding the car.
KINGSTON: Hang tight.
I turned to Tommy and Z. “Devyn’s here and they’ve already spotted her. The car’s surrounded.”
“Shit.” Z shook his head. “Let me get Grim on it.”
Grim was a big, burly retired Marine who kicked ass and took names. I loved when he worked with us and wished I could make him head of security on tour. While we could afford him individually for situations like this, the amount the band would have to pay him to bring him on permanently wasn’t cost-effective. He was that good and always in demand, according to Chains.
“I’ll take care of Devyn,” Grim called as he walked toward the door. “I’ve got guys by both the front door and the emergency exit out back, so we’ll have this place sealed up tight as soon as everyone is here.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Grim.”
“How was she last night?” Tommy asked after a moment. “Did you guys hang out after you got to your place?”
Christ, could they tell I had thing for her or was this a simple question of genuine curiosity?
“She was fine,” I replied smoothly. “A little worried about whether or not she’s going to turn into some kind of gimmick as the only woman in the band, but otherwise, she wasn’t upset or anything. More worried about Greatty than anything else.”
“She needs that security system put in sooner rather than later.”
I nodded. “I made a call this morning and set it up for Monday. I’m going to go ahead and pay for it so she doesn’t have to worry about that part of it.”
Z eyed me. “You’re paying for it personally?”
I hesitated, frowning. “Yeah. Why?”
He shrugged. “This is band business. Isn’t it?”
“Yes and no. Technically, it is, but Devyn isn’t in a position to put money up for this kind of stuff, and we’re talking about an eighty-one-year-old woman who’s going to be alone for two months while we tour. And, I mean, come on—it’s not like I can’t afford it.”
Z narrowed his eyes. “You better not be thinking what I think you’re thinking.”
I lifted my hands, palms up, and scowled. “What are you talking about? I didn’t even understand that sentence.”
“Don’t play coy, Knight.” Z using my last name was the equivalent of someone’s mom using their middle name. “She’s not a groupie, and if word gets out you’re bangin’ the new bass player, it’s going to be a shit show.”
“I’m not bangin’ anybody!” I snapped.
“Well, now we know why you’re cranky,” Tommy quipped.
“I’m just trying to be nice,” I said. “Jesus. Have a little faith in me.”
I stopped talking as Grim came inside with both Devyn and Kellan.
“Good morning.” Devyn smiled and held out what looked like a tray.
“Greatty and I got up early to make banana-caramel bread and white chocolate bread pudding. I figured we might win over the journalists coming to talk to us with dessert.”
I laughed. “I don’t know about the journalists, but you’re winning me over just with the smell.”
“Excellent.” She smiled and put the tray down on a side table in the lounge.
She looked different today.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something had shifted in her and it was even more fascinating than normal.
Her hair and clothes were the same, but her makeup was different.
Softer.
Instead of the hard lines, deep kohl eyeliner, and black lipstick, she wore something clear and shimmery on her lips and her eyes were lined in either gray or blue. It was hard to tell from here. But it was stunning.
And the arrogant ass that I was wondered if she’d done it for me.
Unless she’d done it because of me, which wasn’t the same thing.
After last night’s faux pas, asking her if she was trans, it seemed like she’d decided to show me just how feminine she could be without making it too obvious. The other guys probably wouldn’t even notice. That made sense since, as far as I knew, they didn’t want to sleep with her. I, on the other hand, was like a teenager in heat. She was all I thought about.
I figured if I could just get her into bed, I’d fuck her out of my system and be able to move on, but that didn’t seem likely since she’d friend-zoned me.
“The journalists you guys invited are here,” Grim said. “You want me to bring them in? My guy’s already checked their IDs.”
“Yeah, let’s do this.” I nodded before turning to Devyn. “You ready?”
She shrugged. “As I’ll ever be. I’ve worked hard to get here, and your fans are going to have to accept that. And if they don’t? That’s on them, not me.”
“It’s going to be fine,” I whispered as I brushed past her. “Trust me.”
She nodded. “I do. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
12
Devyn
The journalists they’d invited to sit with us were older than I’d expected, probably ranging from their late thirties to mid-forties, two men and one woman. I’d heard of one of them, a guy named Dennis Friedman. He occasionally had pieces in Rolling Stone, but he wrote for all the local music magazines. From what I’d heard, he made friends with a lot of bands and partied with them, often going on tour. He seemed relaxed and friendly with the guys, but more subdued with me, which was annoying.
The woman in the group, Lara Simpson, talked loudly and laughed a lot, as if she was somehow trying to compensate for how nervous she was. She also shamelessly flirted with Kingston, to the point I wanted to roll my eyes.
And the third journalist, who was probably the youngest of the group, was also the quietest. He had his phone open, recording everyone’s questions and answers, but not saying much. I caught him looking at me occasionally, as if he wasn’t sure who I was or what I was doing here.
It made me nervous whenever people looked at me so carefully.
As if they recognized me.
It had only happened once before, but now that I was a member of Onyx Knight, I would be on the radar of thousands of people. Maybe hundreds of thousands. And some of those people undoubtedly watched porn. In those days I’d worn a blond wig, but the camera zoomed in on my face enough to make me recognizable, so part of me wondered how long it would be before my secret was out.
I’d left that life, and my ex, a long time ago.
It wasn’t who I was, and never had been, but I’d been stupid, broke, and in love. We’d needed the money we made—my ex had participated as well—because so much of the club circuit charged fees to the bands who performed. I’d done what I’d thought I had to do for a chance at stardom, but it never occurred to me it might come back to haunt me.
“How many people did you audition before you settled on Devyn?” Lara asked, sticking her phone up to his face.
Settled?
Gee, thanks, lady.
Kingston seemed to feel the way I did and he sat back, a forced smile on his face. “We literally got about five thousand audition tapes. Our management company whittled it down to the ten we invited to audition in person.”
“Wow.” Lara looked at me. “How does that feel, knowing you beat out so many worthy, talented musicians?”
I couldn’t be sure, but that felt like a veiled insult, and I took a moment to think about how to reply. “I’ve been a musician my whole life,” I said quietly. “I have a degree from Berklee and—”
“You have a degree from Berklee?” Lara seemed skeptical. “When did you graduate?”
“Five-and-a-half years ago.” I met her gaze.
“Have you ever played in a band before?”
“I have. Back in Boston. But I chose studio work when I came home to L.A. The work is steady and there’s less discrimination.”
“Discrimination?” Lara cocked her head. “What does that mean?”
I itched to give her the definition, but that probably wouldn’t win me any points.
“As a woman in the industry, sometimes it’s difficult to navigate those waters. Things can get murky but there’s less of it in a studio setting.”
“Yet now you’re here. Is it true Carter was the one who recommended you to the band?”
I froze, my eyes momentarily meeting Kingston’s.
“I’m not sure where you heard that,” Kingston said carefully, “because it’s not public knowledge, but yes, it’s true.”
“Is it true you and Carter had a one-night stand?” she asked me.
Crap.
This was the kind of bullshit I’d been talking about.
No one would think twice if Kingston or Z had slept with another musician, but there was a double standard for me.
“That’s really none of your business,” I replied, frowning.
“Well, if he was trying to help some random woman he was sleeping with get ahead, it seems like people should know.”
“Why? Have you slept with any fellow journalists? Do I need to know which ones before I give you an interview?”
She had the grace to flush and look away when Dennis chuckled.
“I think this line of questioning is unnecessary,” Z said after a moment. “Unless we all want to talk about everyone we’ve ever slept with, including the three of you—” He motioned to the journalists. “We need to move on.”
The quiet journalist, whose name was Oliver, finally spoke up. “My question has to do with the upcoming tour. Dorian mentioned eight weeks in Europe. Is that confirmed?”
“Absolutely,” Kingston said. “And we’re stoked. We have some surprises lined up I think audiences are going to like, something a little different since this is a mini-tour.”
“Is that a tryout for Devyn?” Lara asked. “You don’t normally tour for such a short amount of time.”
Grr. I was starting to hate this bitch.
“It’s not a tryout,” Z answered with more patience than I had. “We’re all still struggling with losing Carter. He was part of us, you know? The band will go on, but it’s not like we can snap our fingers and get over his death. We’re also easing Devyn into things, trying out a new show and set list, and keeping ourselves ready for whatever is next because we haven’t decided what that is yet.”
“And maybe she won’t have the stamina for touring,” Lara said.
“Are you intentionally being a bitch?” Kellan asked dryly, leaning back in his chair and quirking one eyebrow. “Because you were hand-picked for this interview, but I can make sure you never get anywhere near us again.”
Lara’s cheeks turned pink but she wasn’t backing down. “So, this isn’t a real interview then? You don’t want to answer the hard questions? This is just a fluff piece? Because that’s not the impression I was given.”
“They’re not hard,” I said, trying not to grit my teeth. “They’re mean-spirited. It’s not the same thing. Your tone is more indicative of your intentions than anything else.”
“My tone?” She lifted her chin. “Why does the line of questioning bother you if you have nothing to hide?”
“Ask me something related to music!” I snapped, finally losing my patience. “Anything you want. Go ahead.”
“Why haven’t you played in a band since college?” she shot back.
“Because getting a regular paycheck from a studio means I have health insurance and can pay my bills like a grown-up. Not everyone believes there’s value in starving to death and couch surfing while you try to hit the big-time.”
Lara smiled. “That might be the first honest thing you’ve said today.”
I really wanted to punch her in the face.
The interview was better after that, talking about the music and the upcoming tour. Personally, I was annoyed because while they’d wanted to talk to me initially, once we got past all the so-called hard questions, they basically ignored me. As if I didn’t have anything to include since I hadn’t worked on previous albums and we hadn’t yet played live together.
I excused myself to the ladies room once the journalists had left and leaned against the door. I was going to have to find my footing as a member of Onyx Knight because at the moment I felt like I was floundering. It still felt like a dream to me, and in a way, I walked on eggshells every day wondering if I was going to blink and discover the whole thing had been a dream.
A light knock on the door got my attention and I moved so I could pull it open.
“You okay?” Z looked concerned.
“Yeah.”
“Liar.” He leaned against the door frame. “You can talk to us, you know.”
