On the Road: (Vagabonds Book 2) (New Adult Rock Star Romance) (28 page)

“Look So Pretty” ~ Kittie

Chapter Forty-seven

FUCKING BARBIE.  ONE month of tour left and she walked.  She was “done,” she said, and she had some guy in a white Maserati pick her up outside the hotel where we were staying—the top was down and Barbie jumped in, sliding her sunglasses over her eyes before giving him a peck on the cheek.  She made sure to flip off Liz and me before they sped off.

She hadn’t even taken her luggage (although, I found out later, she picked it up after we were at the venue).

It felt surreal.

That was the kind of exit I’d expect from Barbie, though—overly dramatic and way over the top.

But Liz couldn’t believe it.  First she texted Barbie and then Mollie.  Vicki stood inside the hotel with a confused look on her face, her hands shaking.  She reminded me of someone sixty years her senior.  She seemed frail and not quite with it when she asked me, “So is the tour over then?”

I frowned and shook my head.  We’d done it before without Barbie and we could do it again.

Mollie was pissed.  She first called Barbie and then dialed what I called “Central Headquarters” and told them to cut Barbie off the payroll effective immediately.  Of course, we knew she’d still earn her royalties, but she was to get no more touring proceeds.  Mollie even said something about breach of contract, but I didn’t care.  I was glad Barbie was gone.  Her self-absorbed energy had been vampiric.

The four of us sat in Mollie’s room and once the calls had been made, Mollie said, “I need to know how you three want to handle this.”

Liz said, “The show must go on.”

I added, “We’ve been here before.”  As much as I hated pulling Liz into my focus (because I could tell she was still monumentally pissed at me), I asked, “Do you want to cover vocals or is there something else you’d rather do?”

Her jaw clenched and, when she answered, she didn’t look at me, instead focusing on the table top.  “I can sing.”

Mollie asked, “Do you want us to hire a traveling bassist?”

“No.  I can do it.”

She obviously didn’t know Liz very well, because she said, “If you’re worried about the cost—”

“No.  I’m concerned about our reputation.  I don’t want someone up there who’s not a Vagabond.”

And so, shaky or not, we became a threesome, finishing out the American leg of our tour.

* * *

Three days before we planned to fly to Europe so we could finish out what to me had become a dismal joke, Mollie said we were meeting Barbie for lunch to discuss the possibility of her coming back.  I said, “Fuck, no,” before we even left and Mollie half-glared at me, telling me to have an open mind.

I bit my tongue.  I knew I was being negative, but I was ready to check out as it was.  Liz no longer talked to me; I was playing music that was killing me; and Vicki looked more and more like death warmed over every day.  Barbie’s return would likely drive me to want to leave the band myself.  Her presence was toxic and at least when she’d been gone, I had felt relief from her negative aura.

But Mollie was, for all intents and purposes, my boss on the road, so I stuffed it down and showed up to the meeting on time.  We were seated at a round table near the back of the restaurant, our bodyguards at a nearby setting.  Barbie was on time and that alone surprised me.  I’d never known her to be punctual.  But that was the only thing different about Barbie.  The attitude and the words coming out of her mouth were nothing new.

After our orders had been taken, Mollie explained that she and Barbie had been talking over the phone about her situation, and Barbie had asked to return.  I suspected it was because she’d never been to Europe and wanted a free ride…but, again, I kept my mouth clamped shut.  Mollie said, “Barbie, do you want to tell these ladies what you and I have discussed?”

“Yeah, sure.”  She acted humble and soft-spoken, but she wasn’t fooling me.  She batted her eyelashes. 
Sorry, sweetheart.  That might work on all the guys enamored of you, but I can see right through your bullshit.
  I’m sure all my feelings were plastered on my face, and I didn’t care—but, sticking with my promise—I shut my mouth and listened.  “I’m sorry I abandoned you guys.  You’re my life.”  Yeah…I was definitely calling bullshit.  “I was, uh, under the influence of a guy I thought I was in love with.”

I couldn’t stop myself.  “Mr. Maserati?”

She blinked.  I could tell she’d had her little spiel all planned out, and I wasn’t supposed to interrupt her or ask any questions.  She looked confused for a second, until she understood my reference.  “Oh, yeah.”  I nodded and then she continued, but I could tell she was a little rattled.  “Anyway, he talked me into—really, he
coerced
me into leaving with him on a wild adventure.”  I thought back to that day, the way she’d jumped into the car and flipped us off after kissing the guy on the cheek, probably leaving a big red mark on his skin from her lipstick.  Coerced?  I was sure Barbie had twisted the facts in her mind so that she could believe the bullshit she was spewing out, but she had to believe we too were dumb asses if we’d swallow it.  “He was a real sweet talker and convinced me that he’d take good care of me and I’d never want for anything…said he loved me.”  She looked down at the tabletop, blinking once more.  God, she was a lousy actress.  I was ready to puke, but as I glanced around the table, I saw that they were all buying her story.  Maybe I was the only one equipped with a Barbie Bullshit Radar.  I was getting ready to call her on it too when she added, “He was abusive.  I—I don’t want to go into a lot of details.  I told Mollie some of them, but I…it was something I shouldn’t have done.  And I’m going to get counseling when I get home.  But anyway…I wanted to apologize for abandoning the Vagabonds.  That was wrong.”  Damn straight it was wrong.  “I promise I’ll never do it again.”

Liz, as always, gave no indication of what she was thinking, but Vicki was crying and holding Barbie’s hand.  Mollie too looked moved by Barbie’s stupid little speech and their reactions were likely what pushed me over the edge.  I remembered back to the times Barbie had threatened to quit before and the times we’d had to cover her ass.  I couldn’t forget all the times she’d reminded us of how important she thought she was to the band—and yet, we were often her last priority.  Real or not, her story failed to move me like it visibly had two of the women at our table.  Just as the waitress was bringing our food to the table, I said, “That’s complete bullshit, Barbie.”  I saw just a glimmer in her eyes—enough to know that I had indeed called her bluff and she knew I had her number.  That was all it took for me to continue.  “You have abandoned this band more times than I can count.  It wasn’t always physical abandonment.  I don’t know how many times you were happy to sell the rest of us up the river if it meant some gain to you.”

Mollie had an apologetic look on her face as the waitress placed our entrees on the table.  She had hesitated, thanks to me, and Mollie had waved her on.  I think she was going to try to stop the conversation so as to ease the embarrassment and discomfort for the waitress, but it wasn’t going to happen.  Our ex-vocalist blinked.  “You don’t know what I’ve gone through.  How dare you!”  At that point, I wondered how long Barbie would keep up the charade.  It wasn’t for me.  I’d already determined that most, if not all, the story she’d fed us was a lie, but she was probably convinced that the other girls hadn’t figured it out yet.

I almost raised my voice louder but then realized I needed to keep it low.  We didn’t need to draw attention to ourselves.  “I think you made half that shit up.  But that doesn’t matter.”  I looked at the people who’d been with me throughout the tour—Mollie, Vicki, and Liz—and said, “I’m sorry, but I refuse to work with her anymore.  She’s negative and she’s toxic and she’s like a loose cannon.  How long before another excuse comes along and she’ll abandon us again?  Well, I for one am sick of it, and I won’t take it anymore.  I’m done.”  I stood, unable to eat my lunch and unwilling to do it at this table anyway.

Mollie said, “Where do you think you’re going, Kyle?  You can’t go.”  Her tone then was that of a manager—someone in charge and bossy as hell.

Her words simply flamed the ire burning in my belly.  “It’s her or me.”

I started to turn when Vicki, in between Barbie and me, grabbed my arm.  Her voice was weak when she said, “Kyle, please don’t go.”  I searched her eyes, trying to figure out how to deliver the final blow, when she turned her head to look at Mollie.  I hadn’t noticed until the words were out of her mouth that she was avoiding eye contact with Barbie.  “If Kyle goes, I go.”

I don’t remember the rest of the words flung at me, because I managed to remove my arm from Vicki’s grasp and walk away.  One of the bodyguards was hollering at me, telling me to wait, but no way was I turning back around.

And, even though the European leg of the tour went off without a hitch,
sans Barbie
, I could feel it in my bones that it was the beginning of the end for the Vagabonds.

“Make Me Wanna Die” ~ The Pretty Reckless

Chapter Forty-eight

IF OUR DISMAL reviews and semi-shitty performances hadn’t spelled disaster for us, Barbie’s nasty interviews would have.  She was painting us (and, in particular,
me
) as the villains, but fortunately a few of the interviewers clarified that she had willingly left.  I didn’t feel like I could refuse to talk to any of the press who called, because she was trashing us as much as possible, and I felt like we needed to defend ourselves.

When we got back to the states, I packed up my shit.  Liz’s shoulder had grown far too cold, and CJ had already told me I could crash at his place until I got my own place.  I considered moving back with mom and dad, but they’d downgraded to a small two-bedroom house during my last tour.  They’d said it wasn’t because of money but because they didn’t need the space.  After spending a good deal of their adult lives on the road, I couldn’t understand that.  Once you’d had the entire world as your backyard, it was hard to be cooped up in a tiny space…but it was their choice, not mine.  I know they would have welcomed me back with open arms, but they would hate my habits—a couple of beers at night to wind down, a pack or two of cigarettes a day, all that jazz.  Oh, and sex.  If there was a chance to get laid, I wasn’t turning it down.  Well, that wasn’t entirely true.  I’d grown pretty choosy and, of course, there was only one guy in the Colorado Springs area I was interested in.

Speaking of that guy, CJ offered me the choice of his bed or the couch when I moved in.  I took the bed, but I knew nothing had changed between us.  I wasn’t moving in as his lover or his girlfriend.  It was a temporary arrangement and I knew it.  If we managed to fuck in his bed, so be it, but there was nothing permanent between us.

Less than two weeks later, Mollie called a meeting of the Vagabonds.  I didn’t want to go.  I had a sick feeling in my gut, and that told me that it was time for me to begin thinking seriously about other plans for my future, because whatever adventure the rest of my life held, this band could no longer be it.  Yeah, I’d cut my teeth playing for this band, but I’d since outgrown it.  I hated our music and I didn’t much care for the people I had to work with.  I needed to come up with a new plan—one without this toxic group of vipers.

Okay, so they weren’t
all
vipers, but we’d all become bad for each other.  There was no denying that.

We met in a small conference room in a hotel in downtown Colorado Springs.  Mollie had come to us since this was our home base.  She said she liked the excuse to do more traveling.  Liz and Mollie were already there when I arrived, and Vicki came in the door right behind me.  As I saw my own bandmates (even though Liz still wouldn’t look at me), I remembered all the good memories, all the good times we’d had, and I decided that, if I could have more creative say in what we became singles and got played at concerts, I’d be okay with staying.  The problem I foresaw was the studio telling us no way.  If we’d demanded it before going on the road with the last album, we might have had the leverage.  But I saw our sales from the last album, and I knew that we’d have to kindly ask rather than demand.

I didn’t know that I could do that…and I sure as hell knew I couldn’t be relegated to playing music that didn’t nourish my soul.

Mollie asked what we wanted to drink but there was already a pitcher of cold water on the table.  She called and requested coffee since Vicki had asked and then sat at the table again.  “We’re going to wait a few more minutes…because I’ve invited Barbie to sit with us today.”

I felt my heart start to race in seconds as adrenaline began coursing through my body.  Just her name put me in fight stance.  I stood.  “What the fuck, Mollie?”

“Sit down, please, Kyle.”  I felt myself breathing harder than I should but I decided to hear her out.  The fact that Liz was calm and unmoved meant nothing, although I suspected she already knew Barbie was coming.  “I know she said some awful things about you and the band but—believe it or not—they were great publicity.  You actually sold
more
albums during that part of the tour than any other.”

I sat down.  “You ever think maybe that’s because the fans liked Liz’s singing better?”

I saw Vicki’s lips quirk but she pursed them together quickly so that no one could see her amusement.

“I don’t know that that’s the reason, because Liz didn’t sing on the album.”  She sighed—I was already irritating the shit out of her.  Good.  “They say that P.T. Barnum said, ‘There’s no such thing as bad publicity.’  Like it or not, Barbie’s ranting and raving and bitching on every radio station she could get her hands on, as well as talking to every music magazine who would listen, earned you all some pretty pennies.  I know you don’t want to give her any credit, Kyle.  I get that there’s bad blood between you two, but Barbie’s a showman.  She knows how to draw a crowd, and once she’s got them, she knows how to keep them entertained.  Truth is, I’d guess most people who listened to her suspected that half of what she said was bullshit, but they didn’t care.  Why would they?  She was keeping them entertained—and so people were curious about the music and bought the album.”

I frowned and clenched my fists in my lap out of sight.  I was pissed but also knew that Mollie could have been right.  Barbie entered then, almost as if on cue, and only five minutes late.  “What’ve I missed?” she asked.

“Nothing.  We just started.”  Mollie waited for Barbie to settle in, sitting in the empty chair between Liz and me, and then she said, “So where do we go from here, ladies?  We know this last album was not as successful as the first two, so what do we change to fix that?”

I kept my lips shut tight.  Anything I had to say would be negative as hell.  Barbie began talking.  “I think we need to go a lot more mainstream.  That’s why we don’t have the fans we should.  Our shit’s too alternative, too heavy.”  I personally thought our music wasn’t heavy enough.

Liz spoke, her tone tight and strained.  “No way.  We’re not selling out.”

“That’s not selling out, Liz.  It’s moving up.”

Her voice was low, almost like a mother bear defending her cub—and, in essence, she was.  “We’re not doing it.  I’d rather wash dishes in a greasy spoon.”

Barbie cocked one of her eyebrows.  “That can be arranged.”

That was it.  I was sick and tired of Barbie trying to run the show—and, once again, she
was
trying…and Mollie was fucking letting her.  I stood, the wheels on my chair making more noise than they should have as I pushed it away from the table.  “This isn’t going to work.”  I looked at Molly.  “I can’t work with her anymore,” I said, cocking my head at Barbie.

“Fuck you, bitch.”

Vicki stood.  “If Kyle goes, I go.”

I drew in a deep breath, ignoring Mollie’s pleas for me to sit down and consider what I was saying.  I steamrolled over her.  “It’s more than that, though.  Liz hasn’t talked to me in months.  She’s holding some kind of fucking grudge over the fact that I told her I didn’t like the music we were playing on tour.  She’s taking it personally.  I mean…I kind of get that, because those songs are her babies, but I’ve been playing this goddamned music for years now, and it ain’t gettin’ any better.  I feel like I’m withering up inside and dying.  I want to live.  I want to create.  And I can’t do it with the Vagabonds anymore.”  The words having flown out of my mouth helped me realize that I’d meant every word.  Somehow I must have already known that I was done, but it didn’t become a conscious thought until I’d given it validity in words.  Suddenly, I felt a huge relief knowing I had just quit my band.  I wasn’t under obligation anymore—in fact, hadn’t been since Liz’s lawyers had pulled us out from under Peter’s wings.  I knew there was a contract and that I’d have to formally put my intent in writing, but that was a piece of cake.  I could get that done later that afternoon.

I turned on my heel and heard Vicki say, “Wait up, Kyle!”

Mollie was still talking but her words weren’t registering with me at all.  All I could hear was Barbie’s cursing and screaming and Liz’s ringing silence.

The air felt crisp and clean when I finally made it outside, Vicki next to me, sharing my sunbeam.  At that moment, I felt like anything was possible, and I knew I could conquer the world.  I just had to take the first step.

So I did.