Broken Strings (A Rock Star Novel) (13 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Busted

I pour myself a generous glass of red wine and leave the
bottle next to me. I may need it. I take a long drink and relax as the liquid
warms my throat and belly. Here we go.

Cory answers my call on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Cory, its June.”

“You’re calling late. Something wrong?”

“Yeah...actually there is. Apparently when I sent my
retraction letter, it seemed strange to the magazine. They contacted Brand to
see if he really wanted to retract his entry.”

“And now there’s an investigation into who hacked the
computer, am I right?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell them it was me.”

“You? You’re going to convince them that you hacked his
email? You know that’s a federal offense because you sent an email right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re willing to take the fall, is that it?”

“I got you into this, I’ll get you out.”

“They’re not going to believe you for a second, June.”

“Sure they will. I’ll say I saw him type in the password.
What is the password?”

“Ilovejune123”

“...What?”

“Yeah. Apparently you’ve got a love sick puppy on your
hands.”

“How’d you guess the password?”

“Trade secret. Now you have the password. Don’t forget it.
And don’t worry too much. Just tell him it was you. He loves you. Do you
actually think the man that is in love with you will press charges? You’re not
going to jail. Just be honest and it’ll turn out alright.”

“Yeah, you’re just saying that because this gets you off the
hook.” I reply.

“Maybe. But I’m really tired so maybe we can talk about his
later? Call me after you talk to him. You know, in case you need a shoulder to
cry on.”

He ends the call. That wasn’t so bad after all. I really
expected him to rake me over the coals, especially since he didn’t really want
to help me in the first place. Now I have to talk to Brand, and I know that’s
not a conversation that is going to go down as nicely as the one I just had. I
could end up alienating my boyfriend and my favorite band all in one fell
swoop.

Suddenly a loud knock jolts me wide awake. I look at my
clock, it’s nine in the morning. Holy crap! I slept through the entire night. I
peer through the little eye in my door and see two policemen standing at my
door. Should I answer? Maybe they’ll think I’m gone and go away. I can’t
believe this. I didn’t even have the chance to come clean to Brand and now it’s
too late. This cannot be happening to me. I’m a good girl. I’ve never done anything
wrong my whole life until this little indiscretion, and now I’m going to go to
jail for it.

“We know you’re home, so just open the door nicely,” the
bigger of the two cops is shouting. They look pissed off. I barely did anything
and they’re pounding on my door like I’m some kind of murderer. I really should
open my door before they break it down, but I can’t seem to move. Fear has
covered me it it’s icy grip.

“We’re going to count to five, then we open your door by
force. Do you really want that? Do you really want resisting arrest on your
record as well?” the bigger one shouts through my door. I’m pretty sure every
one of my neighbors is hearing this as well, so I better just open the door and
face the music.

“Three, two…”

“Wait!” I shout. I take the chain off the door and step back
as I turn the knob.

The door bursts open as the two burly men in uniform charge
in. Without being asked, I drop to the floor on my stomach. I don’t want to
give them any excuse to rough me up. One of the men starts putting on the cuffs
while the other covers him.

“Miss Manziel, you are under the arrest for the murder of
Jose Caputo. You have the right to remain—”

“Who?” I can’t help but interrupt him.

“Jose Capu-”

“No the other name. Who did you just call me?”

“Manziel, Maria Man-”

“Cho. I’m June Cho.” The fear I was feeling is beginning to
be replaced with indignation.

“Do you have some ID?” asks the cop.

“My purse is on the table. You’ll find my driver’s license
there.”

While the officer retrieves my purse the one who cuffed me
helps me to my feet and escorts me to my couch. After a couple minutes, the cop
with my purse comes over to where I’m sitting. I can tell by the look on his
face that he knows they have screwed up big time.

“Ma’am, on behalf of the Oakland Police Department, I
apologize.”

“It’s okay.”

“We’ll just let ourselves out,” the officer says as they
close the door behind them.

I decide to sit down on my couch and try to calm my nerves.
What a cluster fuck of a morning! And to think, I may have to relive this
little incident if I don’t hurry up and do something about my own crime. What I
wouldn’t give for a valium right about now. I sit for a few more minutes, then
decide to call Gabby.

 She’s sure to be in her hotel sleeping off Fringe’s show
last night. I retrieve my cell phone from my purse and am just about to call
her when it lights up. Brand is calling. Crap—the piper wants to be paid. The
question is, do I want to pay now or later? I’ll go with paying later. Soon as
my phone stops ringing I dial Gabby. She answers just before it goes to voice
mail.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” she asks by way of
greeting.

“Of course. That’s why I’m calling you so late.”

“You know I didn’t get to bed until four, so this had better
be good.”

“It’s definitely not good. I’m gonna go with tragic.
Monumentally, tragically, Titanically—”

“June,” she interrupts, “You’re not making any sense.”

“Okay, let me try this again...” I give her the condensed
version.

“Dude, you’re going to jail.”

“Don’t say that! This is serious. What do you think it gonna
happen?”

“I don’t know June, how strong is your relationship with
Brand? Is it strong enough to weather a betrayal?”

“Doubt it...”

“Me too. You’re screwed. You gotta talk to Brand. Tell him
what happened, Tell him...actually, I have no idea what you should say. This is
one mess you’re going to have to clean up yourself. And you better do it before
someone figures out that you had help. It’d be horrible if your friend went to
jail because of you.”

“Oh man, don’t even start. He knows what happened and he’s
probably terrified too. Look, Brand’s calling again. I better go.”

“Goodbye jailbird.”

Brand is still calling when I finish my call with my best
friend, but I cannot bring myself to speak to him, not just yet. Instead I
decide to go for a walk to clear my head. My hand is on the door knob when
there’s a knocking from the other side.

“Miss, are you okay?” comes a voice through the door.

I know that voice. I’ve heard it somewhere...recently.

“June,” comes the voice again. “Can I come in?”

Suddenly it hits me. It’s Stewart, the band’s manager. What
the hell is he doing out here? I open the door and sure enough, Stewart is
standing on my doorstep. I look over his shoulder. There’s a black limo parked
at the curb.

“Are you going to let me in?” Stewart asks.

I step aside and he walks in and deposits himself on my
couch. I walk over and stand in front of him, wondering what in the world he is
doing here.

“So what brings you to my neck of the woods, Stewart?”

“I’ve come to collect you. For Silas. I’ve come to bring you
back to the tour.”

“Why would I want to go on tour with them?”

“It’s Silas. He’s asking for you, June. I’ve never seen him
like this June. He’s completely lost interest in his fans. He’s only interested
in you. Will you come back?”

Just the thought of seeing Silas again is exciting. And when
I think about it, this is going to be the last time. Soon the article will come
out, and he’ll never talk to me again. Being with Silas will help me think
about something other than Brand and my trouble with the law.

“Fine. But for one day only. If that’s not enough, then I’m
staying put.”

Stewart smiles with relief. “Our transportation is waiting.”

I follow Stewart out to the Limo. On the way to the airport
I decide to question Stewart about his nephew.

“So what can you tell me that the newspapers have all got
wrong?”

“Wow, where to start?” Stewart laughs grimly. “You have no
idea how wrong they often are and the volume of crap that gets put out there
about the band. They wonder how a nobody like Silas got the lead guitar
position in one of metal’s biggest up and coming bands. They wonder how an
unknown guitarist got to be able to play so well. You Google any other band’s
guitarists and you see a proverbial paper trail of achievements.”

“What do you mean paper trail?”

“Take any bands lead guitar player and you can find out
every accomplishment, everything he has ever done, and you can find it
chronicled on the internet. Most of the best musicians are prodigies to a
certain degree and you can see early YouTube videos of them playing, or you can
find other proof that they came up through the ranks to get to the position
where they are now.”

“But not for Silas?”

“Right. There are no YouTube videos as a child. No records
in the school systems of him playing in any bands or doing anything musically
at all. It’s like he was just dropped on the planet, guitar in hand, with
skills rivaling Eddie Van Halen.”

“Sounds to me you’re making a case for your nephew being a
fraud or something.”

“Truth is, June, I don’t think he even touched a musical
instrument until he was twenty years old. And when he did, the stuff he made
that instrument do...blew you away.”

“I see…”

“He’s not well-liked, June. The fans adore him, but not the
musicians.”

This is all new to me. “I don’t get it.”

“Think about it. You’re a paramedic right? Imagine if you
came into the ER to work one day and some young hot looking blonde showed up
with skills rivaling that of and ER doc. But he never went to school, never
passed a test, never had to work hard to hone his skills, could do things you
could only dream of in terms of saving patient’s lives. What would you think?”

“I’d be suspicious.”

“Rock and Roll is filled with musicians w
ho
have given their lives to their crafts from very young ages. Kids who played
till their fingers bled, practiced hours and hours while their friends were
outside playing. They didn’t date, didn’t go to movies, do kid’s stuff, missed
the prom, didn’t get the pretty girls...all in the name of their craft.
Suddenly someone comes along who never had to work at it a day, never had to
pay his dues, not a callused finger on his hands, and he’s so damn good he puts
them all to shame. He is that good June, and he’s not even trying.”

“I think I understand.”

“It kills him that not one of his peers can say a single
thing good about him or his ability with the guitar. They’re the people he
wants to impress. It’s the Kirk Hammett’s and Dan Donigan’s of the world whose
opinions matter to him. You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to get
him into Fringe.”

“How did you get the job for him, anyway?”

“Called in a lot of favors. Fringe’s record label owed me
big time. He’s got a Trojan horse in the ranks backing him and that’s in part
why he got the job. But don’t say anything about it. That has to be totally
confidential.”

Stewart tells a good story, and while I would love to
believe him, it supports the theory that Silas really doesn’t know how to play.
Maybe the record label pushed for his hire because of his amazing looks and
charisma. I just don’t know what to think anymore. Just as I’m about to ask
another question, we pull up to a private air strip being used by the record
label. Fifteen minutes later, I’m sipping a mineral water in a private jet
waiting to take off. The thing is amazing. It’s certainly not like any aircraft
I’ve ever been in.

We land and zip over to the venue. When we get out of the
limo, we walk by a group of Lunatics who have gathered by the back entrance in
hopes of seeing members of the band. As I walk by next to Stewart and two
bodyguards, I can’t help but recognize a few of my fellow fans. I get one or
two shocked friendly smiles and a dozen shocked, angry faces too.

“What the fuck she doing here Stew?” a particularly nasty
looking girl shouts.

“Which one is she fucking?” another girl shouts.

I do my best to tune out the rest of the cat calls and angry
remarks as we approach the back door. Once inside, I can finally breathe a sigh
of relief. At least now I’ll be surrounded by people happy to see me.

Chapter Sixteen

Reunited

As we’re approaching the rooms that are designated for the
band, I can feel my excitement soaring. After all that’s happened over the last
few days with Brand, I thought I would be too distracted to enjoy this moment.
But that doesn’t seem to be the case. I can hear music up ahead, vintage
Soundgarden. We get to the room and Stewart raps on the door with his knuckles.

“Who is it?” hollers a voice from within.

“Stewart and June,” the manager yells back.

“You’ll be wanting the next room down,” comes the reply,
followed by a coughing fit. Thought I smelled something funny coming out of
that room. I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on there. Stewart knocks loudly
on the next door. To my surprise it opens, and standing there in the flesh is
Silas.

A huge smile lights up his face as he opens the door to let
me in. I feel all warm inside, like a chocolate chip cookie fresh out of the
oven. Warm, sweet, and willing...so willing.

“Give us a couple hours, Stew,” Silas says as he draws me
into the room. I scarcely notice the door closing behind me. Silas holds me at
arm’s length, studying me.

“What?” I ask.

“Just making sure you’re real,” he replies.

My eyes linger on his pair of faded black jeans, kick ass
motorcycle boots, and a muscle tank. He pulls me into his embrace, and suddenly
we’re kissing like a couple of teenagers. His mouth on mine sends shivers down
my spine, and I’ve got goose bumps all over. Brand has never had this effect on
me. The thought of my boyfriend makes me tense up momentarily.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Sorry...just got distracted for a second, that’s all.”

“That was some distraction Junie. You went all cold and
stiff like a fish.”

“It’s just a work thing. For a second there, I wondered if I
had forgotten to make sure my shift was covered.” He leads me over to the
couch. I can tell something is on his mind suddenly, and it’s not sex. Now it’s
my turn to as ask, “What?”

“It just occurred to me that I don’t know what you do for a
living.”

“Sure you do. I told you I’m a paramedic.”

“Yeah but what do you really do? Where do you work?”

“ER. I work at Highland Hospital in Oakland. They call it
the home of the ‘Guns and Knives Club’. It’s where everybody goes whose been
shot or stabbed.”

“No shit? What’s the most, outrageous thing you’ve seen in
the ER?”

“Oh man...I don’t know. You see a lot of crazy stuff.”

“Like what?”

The man will not be dissuaded. “Take my last shift for
example,” I start, “This woman drives her husband to the hospital, and when she
gets him out he’s got these towels wrapped around his arm. Blood’s pouring out
of the end like a hose or something. The guy is in agony. He’s this big burly
guy who has been reduced to a ball of anguish. He groaning, and trying his best
not to scream and it’s just awful. I can tell his wife is just about to pass
out.”

“Oh man...What the hell happened to him?”

“He got his arm caught in some machinery, and it chewed him
up from his fingertips to his elbow. It was a mess. I have no idea how people
cope with that kind of pain. It’s kinda scary when you stop to think about it.”

“Wow, I could not do that. Not in a million years. I bet
you’re really good at it, too.”

“Yeah.”

“I bet they really respect you there. How long have you been
a paramedic?”

“Something like ten years. And they do respect me. The
doctors and the other nurses, they listen to me because they know I know what
I’m doing. I can think fast, make the right decisions, and perform well under
pressure. But lots of people can. I’m not that special, you know.”

“No way, I got mad respect for you. You save people’s lives.
I just play a bunch of loud music, and sometimes not very well.”

“Not very well, my ass. You’re amazing!”

“Yeah, tell that to the guys...not everyone’s a believer,
you know.”

“I didn’t know, Silas.”

Christ. I may have just accidentally ruined his career, too.
I may have singlehandedly brought down metal’s hottest act, right in the middle
of their sold-out world tour. Suddenly I feel an overwhelming need to run. I
just need to get out of here.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, “You suddenly got all quiet on
me.”

“Yeah. I’m okay. Just thinking about your situation.”

“Don’t over-think it. I’ll be fine. Most of this is just
hazing really. They’ll eventually accept me as one of them. They’re going to
start seeing the reviews in magazines like Guitar Player and Rolling Stone and
they’ll have to accept me. But enough about that. You didn’t come all the way
out here to listen to me whine about my sad life did you?”

“I didn’t.”

Silas shifts so that his knees touch mine. I feel his hand
on my back, and it’s giving me goose bumps all over. I slip under his spell as
his fingers run through my hair. I open my mouth to say something, and he stops
me with a finger on my lips. I don’t feel any calluses there. I really should
feel calluses from years of mashing those steel strings down on the fret boards
of his guitar. What a thing—

His lips brushing up against mine put an end to that
thought. His mouth is warm, firm but not rough. Just perfect. When his tongue
touches mine, my guard come crashing down. Any reservations I might have had
about getting horizontal with my rock god have just flown out the window. I’m a
slave to my desires, and I couldn’t care less. The intense longing that’s been
bottled up in my head bursts, and all I can think of is him. I want him right
now, the concert can wait. Silas and I have more important things to do.

“Hey Silas, you in there?” there’s a sudden pounding on the
door. “Silas, it’s time!”

“Dammit!” Silas groans, “Sorry June, thought we had more
time.”

“Oh come on, Silas. Fifteen minutes”

“Only fifteen minutes?” he grins, “I think we’re gonna need
more time than that.”

“You know what happens when you don’t satisfy a woman, don’t
you Silas?”

“Is that a threat?”

“Call it a friendly warning.”

“Silas,” shouts a voice through the door, “You coming or
not?” I’m inclined to keep ignoring the voice until I hear the unmistakable
sounds of the door unlocking.

We both scramble to sit up and look natural as Hammer and
Stewart come in. By the expressions on their faces, they know exactly what has
been going on here. Silas gives them a dirty look before turning back to me.

“Duty calls,” he sighs, “Look, if you’re tired, you don’t
have to watch the show. If you want you can just kick back here, take a nap if
you want and wait for me. No one will disturb you.”

“You really don’t mind that?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, if you’re sure your cool with it...I guess I’ll stay
and take that nap.”

“Perfect.”

He gets up, gives me an affectionate peck on the top of my
head, and walks out. I make myself comfortable on the couch and close my eyes.
If memory serves me, I’ll have about a two hour and fifteen minute nap.

I climb out of the limo five hours later exhausted but
fulfilled. We didn’t end up sleeping together after the show. It had been a
rough night, and Silas was in a foul mood. We talked some about the show, but
he was really not up for chatting. We just kind of spooned on the couch with me
dozing intermittently until Stewart came knocking, telling me it was time to
get back to the airport.

All in all, it was a good trip. We actually got to know each
other a little bit. We have some things in common, it would seem—that’s always
helpful in a relationship. Oh wow...the R word. Are we really in a
relationship? I don’t know. If we are, I’m gonna have to deal with Brand first
or this is really gonna get messy in a hurry.