Yay! Let's here from Leed! He's going to take us somewhere we've never been in the Soundcrush story before...the label headquarters! Should be an interesting couple of chapters!
Bon Jovi's "It's My Life" seems like the right song for Leed's attitude in the second part of this chapter and thoughts on his situation in the music industry. Plus, ya know, there's never a bad time for a Bon Jovi song....
Leed
I've seen my share of sexual shit, and heard plenty more around the LA scene.
But I'm unprepared for Ashlynn's response to our very vigorous sex.
I'm sweaty and triumphant and every little detail seems sharp as fuck, but after we climax together, she feels boneless in my arms. Like dead wait. I rub her back for a few minutes, me standing between her legs, still in my jeans, her, draped all over me. When I tell her regretfully that we should probably think about heading to my house because I left Ollie and the nanny sleeping, and I don't feel great about the way I left suddenly, Ashlynn makes no move to rouse. She just giggles and rocks her forehead against my collarbone. She seems...beyond fuck-drunk.
"Ash? Baby?" I ask.
No answer. Just a sigh, and her breath warm and wet on my skin.
Once I tip her head back and inspect her face, I get it.
She can't make decisions. She's that high. Lost in neurochemical bliss.
I wipe her sweaty forehead, trying to memorize every single inch of her face. Nothing has ever moved me like the limp weight of her against me and the way her hazy look tries to focus on me.
"That was...soooooo good," she smiles weakly.
"Yeah? You like it like that?" I don't have to ask, I watched her face the entire time, and I know she was with me. I just didn't realize she would float away like this, because sexing her like that has made me feel more alive and alert than I ever have. And I needed that, tooâeven though I didn't realize it until we got started. I needed to make her mine, all over again. Decidely.
"Sometimes," she sing-songs, and I think there is not enough room in my chest for my heart anymore. I feel so full of love for her.
I kiss her damp forehead. I'm not sure how best to care for her, but I let my instincts rule. "Come on, Sunshine. Let's get a shower."
Somewhere under the stream of warm water, she recovers herself.
She looks up at me with completely focused amber eyes. "Hi," she says a little shyly.
I squeeze shampoo onto her head. "Hi."
As I massage her hair, she frowns slightly, but then she tucks it back, turning away, taking over the shampooing of her hair.
I think she's embarrassed about the sex we just had, the way she liked letting me use her body. "It's okay to like it rough, Ashlynn. It doesn't mean you're a bad person. It means you're a strong person that is comfortable enough with herself to know what she likes, and ask for what she needs."
She nods. "I know."
I turn her around. "Do you?"
She nods firmly. "Yeah."
"So what's wrong?"
She shakes her head as she rinses her hair, but the tiny frown is back.
"Tell me," I wheedle, putting my hands to her waist.
"It's nothing." She moves away quickly, twisting her scar out of my grasp.
Wow. Shit. That's the first time I've touched her scar that bothered her. My insides twist. I hate the fact I caused her discomfort.
What's happening right now? As she bathes, I replay every moment since I walked in her door, and it doesn't take me long to figure out what's wrong. She's thinking of him, and I caused that.
Finally, she looks over her shoulder and offers me the bath poof. "Do my back?"
As I circle suds on her shoulders, I ask, "I messed up, didn't I?" Immediately, her shoulders tense.
"I told you, I loved the sex. It was amazing."
"Yes it was, but before that...I scared you, didn't I?"
Her shoulders fall a little. She nods slowly. "The minute you grabbed me, I knew it was you, but before that...I felt like someone was watching me. And yes, I was scared."
"I'm sorry. I was just...playing, but I took it too far."
"It's okay. I don't mind you pouncing when I know it's coming. But don't really stalk me, okay? I've been there, done that, bought the t-shirt and it left me with a nasty rash," she jokes lightly, putting my hand on her scar deliberately this time.
"Fuck," I fold her into my arms, tucking her head under mine so she can't see the grimace on my face. I hate that I scared her. I was planning to sneak sweetly in her bed, but when she came down the stairs, I was behind the decorative screen in the corner of the living room, hiding a present, and ...something sorta insane came over me. I wanted to hunt her down. I guess maybe I have more resentment over this Cam thing than I realized. I wrap my arms around her head. "That was so shit-stupid of me. I never want to scare you."
"I know. It was just...an impulsive thing. I get it. The good news is the adrenaline cured my headache."
I step back. "You had a headache? Have you been having them all week?"
"No. And anyway it's gone now. I've been keeping up with my yoga, I went to an acupuncturist. It's all good.It was probably just jet lag..."
I shut the water off. "You mean lack of sleep. Back to bed you go..." I'm already pulling a towel off the hook and drying her off, hustling her back to bed. She tries to protest when she realizes I can't stayâI have some bullshit meeting at the label that somebody has to take to ensure them that Bodie and Arabella aren't going to kill each other with heroinâbut I won't take no for answer.
"Catch a few more hours sleep, do some yoga, and then do me a solid and go see about my baby? And the new nanny? Maybe she'll calm down with you around. She's nervous as a cat being held over water. I don't know whyâhow can I possibly be more intimidating than Ben Sullivan?"
"The World's Sexiest Man? Intimidating to a twenty year old starlet fresh from Iowa?" Ashlynn is pulling on yoga clothes and I'm pointing at the bed with a stern expression. She rolls her eyes but her yawn betrays her, and she crawls in. I tuck the covers around her and kiss her forehead, nose, and lips.
"Kansas," I say, winking as I stride toward the bedroom door. "And honestly babe, I prefer the title The Lion of Alt-Rock. It's much more true. You know, Miranda hasn't even heard me sing yet. She might faint the first time she runs across me messing around in the music room."
That earns me an adorable smirk and a thrown pillow. "If you're throwing shit, I'm out like Trace," I laugh. "Listen, you know how it is to take a meeting in LAâI'll be gone all fucking day with the traffic..."
"I know," she says. "I'll go hang with Ollie."
"What do you want to do when I get home?"
"Quiet night in?" she asks, hopefully.
I nod and smile. I'm supposed to be going out and being seen, but I haven't been out once since I've been back in LA, because the nanny just doesn't seem to have her groove on with Ollie. At least not at my place. I'm not sure why Tamara hired someone so inexperiencedâI would have gone for a Mrs. Doubtfire. But she said we needed flexibility and an experienced older nanny would not want to travel and switch households constantly. Miranda is just one of three young nannies Tamara has hired, and we are training them full time for a couple of weeks each, and then they'll be on a more flexible schedule.
"Hmmmm...a quiet night in depends on how quiet you can be when I get you in my bed tonight," I tell her.
"With the nanny in the house? Really?" she's blushing, but grinning.
"Hey, we have to get used to screwing with the kids and the help around."
Her playful expression flickers in confusion, and only then did I realize my slipâI don't know why I said kids in the plural. I guess I was thinking of Ollie and Lennon, because Nashville was one big babyfest.
Shit. Best to just let it go. We don't need another talk about babies bringing down our mood. I've already done enough of that with my stupid stalkerish shit. "So listen... I have a new game for you, when you wake up."
She squints an eye. "What's that?"
"Find the present I hid downstairs for you. That's what I was doing, last night. Hiding a gift. Not hiding to stalk you."
"Noted," she smiles. "Also noted that you just bought me a very expensive car."
"Yeah, but you had to leave that in Atlanta. This is a welcome home gift. And it's just a little something, not expensive at all," I assure her. "If you never find it, I'll only be out a benji."
"Oh, I'll find it."
"Good luck and sweet dreams, Sunshine," I say, closing the door with a blown kiss.
âââââââââ
It doesn't matter how many times I walk through the doors at Colossus Records, I always feel like a kid being called to the principal's office. Recently, I confessed to Matt del Marco that I hated feeling like such a pussy over the business end of my job, and he laughed and promised I'd get over it.
"When?" I asked tersely.
"After you've been through two or three label presidents and you know more about their company than they do."
That wasn't all that helpful, considering the new President came on just before we did and will probably be around for a while.
The president, the receptionist, and even the dominating music genre may change, but one thing will always remain the same at Colossusâthe giant statue that dominates the open air lobby of the twelve story circular building. A nod to the ancient statue from which the label takes it nameâthe Colossus at Rhodes, erected in Greece over two thousand years ago. All the offices and various workspaces are glass, and ring the outside of the building. Every employee has a view of the post-modern Colossus of LAâa bronze plated fifty foot rock star shaped in smooth lines- one arm raised to his adoring masses, the other seamlessly morphing into the guitar that is part of him. Everyone who comes through the doors of Colossus records walks through his arrogantly splayed legs.
The day Soundcrush signed, as we were leaving to get drunk and celebrate our six figure signing bonuses, I remember Moran holding me back, taking me by the shoulders and directing my attention skyward, to the statues intentionally featureless face, five stories from the ground.
"That's you. You are the face of Soundcrush, and you're going to be a Colossus. A wonder. A legend."
I went home and researched the Colossus of Rhodes. The funny thing about the world's most famous statue? His life was very short-lived, for a monument. He stood completed for only fifty-four years, before he was toppled by an earthquake.
I think about that, every time I see this statue. Soundcrush's legacy may live on after me, but my time as the Colussus of Colussus? It's short. One day I'll be toppled by the new guy making waves. Matt got a good fifteen years as the rock star that redefined rock stars, and his fanbase is so loyal that Skid Marcs continues to fill stadiums, but most guys fronting a band in this business? Five to seven years tops. So the next album could very well be Soundcrush's zenith, or we could already be past our prime. At worst we crash and burn with our third album and we become an oddityâan Alt-Rock band that had a few hits and faded in the pop/hip-hop culture that continues to dominate the airwaves. At best, it's so wildly successful that we cement a new dawn for Alt-Rock, but that will mean we inevitably turn the top spot over to one of the second-wave bands that rises.
None of this bothers me. It just reminds me not to take my fame and good fortune too seriously. I try to remember...living to be a legend is a fool's errand. All I need to be living is...my life.
I give the nod to the receptionist on approach. She's on the phone, but she beams at me and points toward Riley, who is hard at work on one of the several couches in the lobby. Seeing me, he snaps his Macbook closed and tucks it under his arm, jerking his head toward a hospitality station.
"Moran's keeping us waiting to make a point, I suppose," he says dryly.
"It's all good," I say breezily.
"You look like you've got your head screwed on right today," he appraises my body language as I pour hot water from an urn over a chai teabag. "You've been edgier than Trace this past weekâit's not like you."
"Yeah, well, everything is better now. Ashlynn's back," I grin at him.
"Ah. A good shagging does wonders," he murmurs.
I look Riley over. Come to think of it, he, too, looks a bit more relaxed than when I saw him yesterday and we went over the plan for this meeting. I dunk my tea bag. "Yeah, who'd you shag?"
I realize I shouldn't have asked when his expression goes carefully blank.
"Are you serious?" I hiss. "Row?"
"No, of course not," he says coolly, swallowing the piping hot espresso a little too quickly.
"Are you lying to me right now?"
He remains silent.
"Shit, Riley. I thought you were clear on Matt's mandate about Row. It was either Strut's business or your pleasure, not both."
He adjusts his glasses and sips his espresso. "You think it was my idea?"
I snicker. "I know your dick has a mind of its own like every other dudes, but we expect more from you, Riley."
"That's not what I meant," Riley rolls his eyes dryly. "She'd had a few, showed up, wanted to talk...she was upset..."
"She cried, didn't she? Those tough girls with tears will get ya every time."
"Look, don't say anything to Trace. Or Matt, for god's sakes. Or even Ashlynn. Certainly not Kat. It was just...a moment of weakness."
"Don't let it turn into a pattern. Matt will flip his shit."
"Let's worry less about my love life and more about yours, shall we? I was just reviewing the private investigator's weekly report. He has hit a brick wall trying to backtrack from the shell company that purchased Ashlynn's paintings from Seb, and Dev can't remember shit about where he was in Seattle. He even flew over and spent a day with the PI, looking at upscale properties owned by industry types. He said, "That could be it" to about two dozen residences...and we know that none of them actually belong to the asshole in question, just an acquaintance. The PI is trying to cross-reference all of those owner's public photographs to see if any of them score a hit with Seb, or the shell company, but it's a big field. He's suggesting to apporach his investigation from the other end."
"That being?"
"He wants to tail Ashlynn."
"Why?"
"To see if anyone else is tailing her," Riley says, like that should be obvious.
Irritation flares. I feel my throat tightening. I can see the point, but there's something about it that doesn't sit well. What if Ashlynn realizes she's being followed? I know from this morning that she's sensitive to the feeling. "I...I don't know about that, man. It doesn't feel right to have someone follow her that she doesn't know about. She's gonna have security when she goes out from now on. Can't they keep on the lookout?"
"I suppose, but someone following her would obviously be trying to avoid her security's notice. They wouldn't be looking out for a second tail."
I grunt. That's a very good point. "Let me think about it," is all I say.
He nods just as the receptionist tell us Moran is ready for us. We head up to the twelfth floor. As we make our way down rows of glass-fronted officesâevery room decorated in an eclectic mix of modern materials seemingly used in all the wrong placesâsteel on walls, glassy sea tiles on the fronts of desks, bright shocks of mustard and red fuzzy fabric hung as wall art, canvas covered chairsâit's not the decor that grabs my attention. It's the way Riley halts at the sight of an unexpected meeting member already present at the conference table in Moran's office.
"Bloody hell, he does exist," Riley mutters.
I follow his gaze to the dark-haired man whose tall undercut hairstyle looks just as perfectly casual as his skinny suit. His trim LA body and trendy style would rate him in his thirties, but the deep lines framing his mouth make me think he probably blew out his fortieth birthday a while ago. He's thrown back in the leather chair, a foot on knee, smiling, speaking almost casually to Moran, who is a contrast to the guy in every way but their equally expensive suits. Moran' long blonde hair is slicked flat back into a tight ponytail, his body language is just as severe, and the frown on his normally-ageless-vampire-face is making him look much older than his fifty some odd years.
"You know that guy?"
Riley looks at me, incredulous. "Jesus, Leed, how can you not know him? That's only the president of your label in there."
I give Slade a startled second look. Wow, he's not at all what I imagined. I thought he would be older than Moran, and somehow less...friendly-looking.
Riley has recovered himself, preparing to stride forward confidently again, "Hey Riley...is Slade his first name or his last name?" I ask.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't ask that," he says dryly, and gestures at me to go ahead through the glass door.
My stomach bottoms out, but I put on my rock star face and pretend like I don't feel sixteen and on the verge of being expelled from school.
Well, well, well...we are about to meet the head honcho. What do you think Slade is going to be like? Why has he decided to sit in on the meeting?