Revelry (Taint #1) Read online

  “Give us ’til Friday, and we’ll have three more songs for you,” I say.

  Everyone looks at me.

  “Dude, are you fucking crazy?” Levi asks

  “Can’t be done, man.” Ash shakes his head and stands too.

  “Yes, it can. I got some new material I’ve been working on.”

  “Since when?” Zed asks.

  “Since a while ago.” I look over at Debbie, who glares back as if she thinks I’ve finally lost my mind.

  “You sure about this?” Zed whispers in an aside. “That’s a pretty big fucking claim, man. I’m gonna need to blow a whole wad of cash on a visit to Greyson.”

  Greyson is Zed’s other dealer. Leif deals on the side, prescription drugs and pot mostly, but Grayson keeps Zed stocked in the heavier shit that Leif can’t provide. Zed’s about to make Greyson a very happy man, because we’re all going to be working our arses off to get three more songs finished before the week is done.

  I look up at my oldest friend, and hope that I’m conveying everything without saying very much. “I need this.”

  Zed nods to me and says, “We’re in.”

  “You don’t wanna run that shit by us first?” Levi asks.

  “Nope,” Zed says, and goes back to drumming his hands on the tops of his thighs.

  “Come on, guys. It’s just three more songs.”

  Ash hesitates. “Yeah, I’m in,” he says, and then looks over at Levi.

  He shakes his head. “Whatever, man. You’re supplying the booze, though.”

  “Book the studio till Friday and we’ll give you three of the best motherfucking songs ever written.”

  “Now that’s what I like to hear,” Guidelli says.

  “There’s just one more thing.” Vanessa gives me a look that says I’m not going to like a single second of this. “We’ve been discussing the name, and we feel The Glorious Daddies isn’t the right angle for us. We’re strongly suggesting a name change.”

  “Oh, hell no,” Ash says quietly.

  Levi shakes his head. “That’s rock suicide.”

  “It’s not negotiable,” Vanessa says.

  “We’ve already sold out shows throughout the US. You don’t think it’s going to get a little confusing for people when they show up to a Glorious Daddies concert and find they’re seeing someone else?” I say.

  Vanessa smiles at me as if I’m a child she only just tolerates. I don’t know why, but I find I like pushing her buttons. “We would re-launch the band beforehand.”

  “Of course you would,” I mutter.

  “What does a re-launch entail, exactly?” Levi asks,

  “We’d throw a party, roll out a new line of merchandise and give everyone a first taste of the new album. Throw in a couple of press junkets before you leave on tour. We’ll be in touch with your road manager, too. We want the tour to reflect the new image.”

  I run my fingers through my hair, trying like hell to ease some of the pressure of the massive hangover I’m currently enduring. There are moments in your life that define you. The first time you accomplish something you can be proud of; the first time a person pushes you too far and you make the decision to fight or to walk away; the first time you learn you’re going to be a parent. By comparison, this moment is insignificant. But to my band-mates, this is the equivalent of a blowtorch to the balls.

  Vanessa looks to me, as if I need to get my shit together and pull rank on my guys.

  “Fine,” I say. “Boys, how does Taint sound?”

  Zed makes a show of mulling it over. He knows why I suggested it, because everything touched by a seven-figure deal becomes tainted in one way or another. He’s really much smarter than people give him credit for. “I like it.”

  “You’re actually on board with this?” Levi asks him.

  Zed shrugs. “It does have a ring to it.”

  “Fine. Whatever,” Levi says, and prowls the room like a caged tiger. He’s barely keeping his shit contained, but no matter how unhappy he is he’s not going to walk away from everything we’ve dreamed of for the last eight years.

  Ash shakes his head and gives me an impatient glare. “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Great,” Vanessa says. “We’ll have some papers drawn up. We’ll need all of your signatures again; I’ll just have it sent to the studio this afternoon.”

  “You’re putting us in there today?” Levi asks, folding his arms over his chest.

  “Time is money, gentlemen. You understand.” Guidelli pushes his chair back and makes to leave as Vanessa presses a button on the intercom. I stand up too, because I’m ready to go fucking crazy from the pounding in my head.

  “Ali, I need a coffee. Would you mind?”

  A quiet female voice floods through the crackling speaker. “Not at all, Miss Robinson.”

  It strikes me as odd that Vanessa is sitting on her ample arse, not three feet from the table with everything she needs to fix her own cup, and yet she still requires her lackey to come and do it for her.

  I really hate this bitch. I know deals are a dime a dozen to people like her, but I hate being fucking railroaded.

  “Wait,” I say, before Guidelli and his team of lawyers can leave. “We have a few demands of our own.”

  “Demands?” Guidelli asks with a laugh. His eyes tell me he’s not really amused though. “Well, let’s hear them, gentlemen.”

  Just then a frazzled redhead juggling a stack of paperwork and packages bursts into the room. No sooner is she in than she’s tripping over her own feet and throwing shit at mine. Packages land on my boots, and one hits me in the shin. For some reason, Zed finds her mortification hilarious. He snorts and then claps me on the shoulder. “She’s falling at your feet, Coop. This one’s like a super-charged fangirl.”

  “Shut up, fuckstick,” I mumble, and then before my brain catches up I say, “Her. We want her.”

  “I’m sorry,” Vanessa says with a laugh. “What do you mean you want her?”

  “I need a personal assistant.”

  “Um, hello?” Debbie says. “You already have an assistant, moron.”

  “We need another. Leif’s been promoted to a roadie; we need someone to run errands.”

  “Is Miss Jones here your only demand?” Guidelli says, emphasising the demand part of that question, as if he thinks it’s fucking endearing, or something.

  “No, we want an extra five per cent on royalties,” I say, meeting his shrewd gaze squarely.

  “Yeah, and we want a tour bus with our name on it and orange flames up the side,” Zed adds, looking all too pleased with himself. Sometimes I wish he were a mute.

  Guidelli chuckles, and his jowls wobble in time with his enormous gut. “A tour bus with flames?”

  I glance down at the beauty at my feet. Fuck. Seeing her on her knees, staring up at me is causing my dick to swell. Only when I look again she’s not gazing at me with the same level of adoration. Her big whiskey-coloured eyes aren’t softened with lust the way most women’s gazes are around me. She’s actually pissed. Her cheeks flame bright pink as she gathers her shit together and then she stands and turns her back to me.

  “I was hired as a personal assistant and receptionist for Miss Robinson. I’m not sure being lackey to a bunch of rock wannabes is really in my job description,” she points out.

  The entire room goes silent.

  Guidelli’s face turns puce. “Your job description, Miss Jones, is whatever we make it. Assuming you want to hold onto it, that is?”

  She sets her packages down on the table and folds her arms, pushing up her full tits and giving the entire room an eyeful, though I suspect she doesn’t know it. “You’d fire me for turning down a job that’s not part of my description? You can’t be serious?”

  “Deadly,” he bites out. “And before you embarrass yourself further, Miss Jones, remember it’s very difficult to get anyone to take a chance on you when you’ve walked out on the biggest recording house in the industry.”

  I really sh
ould say something here. Stand up for her, say I was just kidding, and that we’re not really interested in having someone around who is not interested in being a part of our team. In fact, I have no idea why I even suggested her as one of our demands. It’s ridiculous. I don’t have any fucking idea what I was thinking.

  “Look, its fine,” I say. “We don’t need another assistant.”

  “Finally. Thank you.” Debbie stands. Her tight-lipped expression tells me I’m going to hear all about it on the way to the studio.

  “Miss Jones, clear out your desk.”

  “You’re firing me?” she asks, exasperated.

  “No, we’re keeping you on as personal assistant to Taint.” He smiles as he emphasises our new name. “You’re to make yourself available to these fine young gentlemen.”

  “Sorry, looks like you’re stuck with the rock wannabes for a little bit longer. Don’t worry, Red. Levi here will take real good care of you,” Levi taunts. He licks his lips and all my muscles clench with tension. What the fuck? I’ve got enough fucking problems with the fairer sex, I don’t need my cock all twisted up over another redhead.

  And then it hits me. Ali looks just like Holly. She doesn’t have freckles, and she hides those incredible eyes behind a half-arsed attempt at a fringe, and she’s a little bit taller, but there are definitely similarities there.

  Panic roils in my gut. I can’t have this girl around me twenty-four seven. I’ll go fucking mad. I have enough shit reminding me of exactly what I lost.

  “We don’t need her, really. She’s just gonna be a burden,” I say.

  Ali turns to me and I think I see relief in her gaze, but then Levi chuckles, drawing my attention away from the girl. Levi’s studying me with his arms folded over his chest. He’s pushing me to my limit because he’s clearly pissed at me for letting them railroad us. I shake my head, but he just laughs and says, “No, we really do need her. I mean, Deb, you know how much I love you—we all do. But sometimes you just need another girl to get the job done.”

  “Levi, honey, your ego is so huge it’d take every woman in the country to ‘get the job done’.”

  “Baby, you’re confusing my ego with my cock.” He winks. “Let’s take a vote. Who here thinks we need the pretty Red?”

  I keep my hands firmly fisted at my sides while Levi and Ash raise theirs. Debbie doesn’t budge, but then she’s not a band member, so she doesn’t really get a vote. Surprisingly, I see Zed’s arm shoot up in the air.

  Debbie scowls. “Seriously, Zed?”

  “I think we need this,” he says, but he’s no longer looking at my sister. His gaze is directed at me.

  “You know what? I don’t give a shit anymore,” I say, and then fold my arms over my chest and turn to Guidelli. “Are we done here?”

  He nods and holds out a hand for me to shake. “We’ll have the paperwork drawn up this afternoon and Miss Jones will bring it over to the studio.”

  “Fine,” I say, clasping his sweaty palm in mine and shaking.

  I turn and follow Ali out of the room. Once we’ve cleared the door, she turns her fiery gaze on me. “Thanks for that, arsehat. Do you guys even stop to think about the consequences of your actions? Or are you just so fucking entitled that you don’t give a shit?”

  “Hey, I’m sorry.” I smile sheepishly, trying not to incite the angry red any further. “I panicked. You were the first thing I saw.”

  “Well I hope you enjoyed the view, because you’re going to be seeing a lot more of it from now on.”

  Holy shit. I’d thought Holly was feisty when she got going.

  “Look, I’m just trying to apologise.”

  “Fuck your apology.” she snaps and flops down in her chair.

  Zed comes up behind me and pushes me forward so that he and the other guys can vacate the room. He lets out a low whistle and claps me on the shoulder. Levi must have caught the tail end of Ali’s insults and he ruffles my hair as he passes. Turd.

  “I gotta say, Coop, I love your spur-of-the-moment decisions,” he says walking backward and grinning like a cockhead. “Tour’s gonna be fucking awesome with some hot tail along for the ride.”

  “Shut up, Levi.”

  He and Ash follow Zed, Leif and Debbie through the office, past the cubicles of girls staring at them. These women must see celebrities strutting through to Guidelli’s office every day, and yet all it would take is for one of my boys to crook a finger and they’d offer themselves up like lambs to the slaughter. That part of the life still confuses the shit outta me. That’s why Ali’s reluctance to work for us is so startling, and sort of refreshing, in an infuriating way.

  “Look, I’ll go back in there and talk to Guidelli. I’ll fix this—”

  “Don’t do me any favours,” she says, tossing a stapler across her desk with a little too much force. It bounces off the cubical wall and lands in front of her. She sneers at it.

  I hold my hands up in a warding gesture and step back from her desk. “I guess I’ll be seeing you at the studio then.”

  “Guess so.”

  I pull my wallet out of my back pocket and throw a fifty in front of her. “Bring coffee. We’re gonna need it.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “You said not to do you any favours. This is me treating you like my assistant.” I raise my brows and give her a sarcastic little wave. She glowers at me, and if looks could kill, I’d be a pile of ash well into the afterlife. I take a few steps away and then turn back to face her. “Oh, you might wanna pick up some earplugs. You know, so you don’t have to listen to us rock wannabes doing our thing. It’s going to be a really long night.”

  I smile and then casually walk away, winking at one of the blondes hanging out of her cubicle as I pass. She lets out a giggle and I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. I should be used to that, but I’m not. It’s not that I’m humble, or that I think I’m above it, but you have to understand it’s a little weird when grown women start falling all over themselves for something as insignificant as a smile.

  As I walk away, I feel Ali’s eyes burning into my back. I’m going to have to keep my head in check with that one.

  I take the paperwork and the tray of coffee from the passenger seat and slam the door with my sneakered foot. I glance at all my belongings piled inside and pray like hell this neighbourhood is secure enough to not have my car and all my worldly possessions stolen. My day has already started out sucktastic.

  I have ten dollars in my wallet, a bank account that was stripped bare, and I’d been in my new job for all of a week. I have no savings. Harbour Records wouldn’t pay me until the end of the week, and I don’t have enough to buy a fancy cup of coffee, let alone waste all of the petrol I’d used driving out here. I’d come home late Friday night after spending two hours helping my new boss, Vanessa, file her fucking mess of an office to find my flatmates had moved all my shit out onto the landing with a note taped to the door that read: You missed rent. Twice. We’re keeping your shitty TV. Leave your key in the pot plant by the door.

  I wasn’t always this craptastic at life, but after my grandma died, things just went from bad to worse. I lost my job, my boyfriend and my house, all within the space of a month. And just when it looked like things might be finally getting back on track, I get stuck with a glorified babysitting job. What the hell else would you call having to run around after a bunch of “rock stars”?

  I may have pushed a little too far with the wannabe remark. I mean their drummer is probably like the Aussie version of Keith Moon, with a serious case of ADHD, and Cooper Ryan can absolutely hold a note. But I won’t kid myself into thinking that rock music is anything like it used to be. That’s why I want in so badly—it’s not like I’ll ever have another chance at getting my foot in the door. This is the one chance I get to do it right and maybe one day I’ll even be in a position where I’ll be making the calls on what makes the next “big” thing. I can tell you right now it certainly wouldn’t be Taint. What kind of nam
e is that anyway? And why does my head immediately go to that one part of a male’s anatomy that I have absolutely no desire to explore?

  I head into the studio just on dusk. The first thing I’m met with is Levi’s very muscular, very tattooed back as he pushes a blonde receptionist in against the wall and goes to town on devouring her neck. For a second I stand there, waiting for either one of them to acknowledge my presence. They don’t. So I simply slip past and head into the back.

  There are three doors back here, each one containing a viewing window. The first two rooms sit in darkness, but I follow the music, the bass reverberating through my feet and peer through the window at Cooper and his assistant. They’re both facing the viewing window into the studio, and they look as though they’re involved in some kind of argument, but I take a deep breath and quietly push into the room, anyway. If I’m going to be surrounded by these people twenty-four seven I may as well start making an effort so this is as bearable as it can be.

  “No, the last thing you need right now is another red-headed bitch clouding your judgment. What were you thinking?” Deb demands.

  “I don’t know, Deb; that she was hot and on her knees in front of me. I wasn’t thinking much past the point where all the blood rushed to my cock.”

  I clear my throat and everyone turns to look at me. Zed lounges on the couch banging his fists on his chest in time with Ash’s bass and the guide track behind it, the sound engineer glances up from his porn mag, and Deb and Cooper stare at me with the wide-eyed gazes of a couple of kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Deb recovers first. In fact, her turnaround is really very impressive. She looks like she’d make a hell of an enemy. Which, judging by the look on her face, I’m about to experience firsthand.

  “Oh look, Coop, it’s your other assistant.” Her perfectly painted red lips turn up in a vicious smile and then she stalks towards the door. “If you’re going to fuck this one, big brother, make sure to double bag it.”