JAGGED: A Rockstar Romance Page 10

  I looked at Niall who was frowning and Hudson who was smiling. "Fine with me," I shrugged. It seemed pretty clear August was going to drag us into the limelight the second she felt we were ready, never mind what we thought.

  "Fine with me," Niall grumbled.

  She raised her eyebrows at Hudson who nodded quickly, then clapped her hands together, not even bothering to consult Jules. "Everybody is happy then, great!" she singsonged, glaring at Jules who snapped back to ignoring her the second she glanced his way. "Great," she hissed. "So now that we've figured that out..." she pulled her phone out of her tight brown skirt and shook her head. "You know what boys? I don't give a fuck that it's only eleven. You've driven me to drink." She looked back at Jules. "Hey! Grumpy Magoo! You're buying!"

  Jules pouted just like a toddler. "Like fuck I am," he snarled, lifting the two-finger salute.

  "Jules!" I barked. "You got what you wanted, yeah? So stop being a petty cunt."

  "I think we could all use a drink," Hudson drawled.

  Jules stomped to his feet. "Fuck all of you," he announced grandly, but started walking to the door anyway and I knew we had him. "Nice hair, mate," he sniffed at me. "You look like a prick. And oi, Hudson!"

  "Yeah dude?" Hudson stood there warily, his fist balled at his side. He was huge and jacked in the way only Americans seemed to be, and beside him, Jules looked tiny. But I'd seen my friend land bigger guys than this flat in their asses. My friend was a fighter and he didn't believe in fighting fair.

  I took a step forward, ready to break it up before it started, but Jules only smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome to the fucking band, mate."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Celia

  The big conference room off the main hallway at Anthem was the one I usually hated the most because of the huge mirror that hung on the wall, behind where Anthony Pyne, head of A&R sat. There was no escaping your reflection, because if you looked away, Anthony got pissy thinking that you weren't paying attention.

  I hated being forced to stare at myself. There was no way to keep from catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and realizing I was cocking my head to the side like some demented Pug, twisting my tongue around in my mouth, or worst of all, was biting my lip like it was a piece of chewing gum out of sheer, nervous habit. My self-consciousness had risen to the point where I barely spoke up in the meetings, preferring instead to listen to the other, more experienced A&R reps talk about the artists they had in development, all the while ignoring my own startled visage staring back at me.

  But today's meeting was a whole different story. Today, as Matt Gracie droned on about the band he was developing, giving us all a near minute by minute account of his heroics in service of the label, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and actually liked what I saw. A blush had risen in my cheeks, and it had nothing to do with embarrassment about my awkward tongue placement and everything to do with the placement of Ewan Boyd's tongue last night.

  Holy shit. That tongue of his...

  My brain still insisted that I should be ashamed, that I should regret letting him do what he had done, but the tingles in my spine, and the dull, insistent, unceasing throbbing between my legs whenever I thought of him told me that there was nothing to regret. He was a grown man, and I was a grown woman, and there was no need for me to worry about how other people saw what we'd done, right?

  And besides, I could keep it secret, and I was pretty sure he could, so there was no reason even to worry about anyone finding out.

  "It seems like you're on the right track," Anthony said, cutting into my thoughts even as he cut into Matt's monologue.

  "Oh, definitely," Matt nodded, preening a little even know it was clear Anthony was cutting him off instead of praising him. "I've been at this a long time..."

  "Too long," Anthony interjected.

  At this, everyone sitting at the table stiffened at the sudden change in Anthony's tone. I looked at Matt, whose mouth was still half opened, ready to finish his spiel. The temperature of the room felt like it dropped ten degrees.

  "You are over budget, and over-leveraged," Anthony went on, as Matt stammered protest. "It's pretty clear to me that your project, and your artists, aren't ready for prime time yet."

  I winced. Yeah, Matt was a blowhard, but getting called out on the carpet like this in an all staff meeting was pretty fucking brutal. I shot him a sympathetic glance, but he turned away, the tips of his ears bright red. I knew he thought I was still just a new girl. He knew nothing about me other than I just appeared in the department one day. There were whispers about who I was, but so far, no one had put two and two together, and I wanted to keep it that way for as long as I possibly could.

  "Any new business?" Anthony barked, making me jump. Somebody had definitely pissed in his Cheerios this morning because he was on the warpath. He clapped his hands together. "Come on people!" he barked. "We're supposed to be in the business of developing artists. You should be pounding the pavement, going to shows, putting feelers out. We need new talent, and that's your job."

  I sat up straighter. No one was speaking up, no one had anything new...

  But I did.

  "Excuse me," I spoke up. My voice sounded high, girlish. I cleared my throat. "I have someone," I said sounding much more confident that I felt.

  All heads whipped around to stare at me, and Anthony leaned forward. "Celia right?" he asked. "You're new?"

  I nodded. And Anthony nodded back, his eyes glinting approval. "See now, that's what I'm talking about. That's the drive we need. Celia has only been here for four weeks, and she already has something ready to bring to the meeting. I like that." He leaned back in his chair. "Go ahead, Celia."

  I could feel the virulent hatred from every person in the entire room bearing down on me as I leaned forward and glanced at my notes. Matt looked like he had swallowed hot sauce and was trying not to react. His eyes were practically bulging out of his head. "Ahem, well," I choked, looking away from him. "As I'm sure you all know, Crux Records dissolved their relationship with Wrecked."

  "Old news," Matt scoffed, interrupting me. "Their crazy lead singer is going to be spending a lot of time in jail and the other one is holed up in some hillbilly town upstate."

  I looked up from my notes and shot him a tight grin. "I realize that," I said. "But I wasn't talking about Killian Ness and Jane Doe. I'm talking about Ewan Boyd, Jules Spencer, and Niall Penrose."

  "Who the fuck are they?" Matt snipped.

  "The rest of the band?" I answered, struggling to keep the incredulity out of my voice. "The people who actually made the music we all listened to?" I swallowed and pressed on. "They are free agents now, and they're putting together a new lineup, with a new lead singer. I've seen him. His name is Hudson Glenn, and he is incredible." I turned back to Anthony who was watching me with an inscrutable expression. "I'd like to sign them."

  "How the fuck did she find this in her first freaking week here?" I heard Matt complain to no one in particular. I ignored him and watched Anthony, who was nodding ever so slightly.

  "You want to sign Wrecked?" Anthony finally asked.

  I shook my head, and allowed a little grin to spread across my face. "No. I want to sign Wreckage."

  A small murmur went up from the table. I could tell there was interest, so, spreading my hands, I made my final appeal. "I'm working with them to develop a new look. They already have a new sound with this lead singer. They'll need some rehearsals, true, but their manager is gung ho, and has the chops to go and get them some live shows. We can build some buzz, have a few secret shows for industry only. Get the word out that they're ready." I turned back to Anthony whose eyes were wide, and gave him my biggest smile. "They're ready for the big time again. They've already been on top once, and I know they've got what it takes to be on top again. They're going to make somebody a lot of fucking money," I said, getting a little too into it and swearing in the middle of a meeting. "Sorry, but the way I figure it, that some
body should be Anthem."

  Anthony tapped his fingers against the glass topped table, and I held my breath. The silence stretched out for a long time. I turned, looking at the rest of the A&R reps. Some of them looked excited, happy for me, and for the fact that we had somebody new. But I also saw some not so friendly faces. I saw suspicion, jealousy, and on Matt's face I saw nothing short of pure, unadulterated hate.

  Quickly I turned back to Anthony who was starting to nod. Slowly, then faster and faster. He leaned back in his chair. "Let's do it," he said, tapping his pen against the chair. "I’ll have legal draw up contracts for you, and you can bring it to them." He looked at me with new respect. "Congratulations Celia. You just signed your first band."

  Chapter Twenty

  Ewan

  We'd been rehearsing together nearly all day. Just trying to get a feel for the new lineup. After this morning's blow-up and the subsequent liquid lunch at the bar around the corner, we had come back and gotten straight to work teaching Hudson our back catalogue. Hudson was a quick learner, and his range was unbelievable. He was even able to hit some of the high notes that Jane used to manage, putting him somewhere in a four-octave range. Why this dude was slumming it in Queens, I had no idea, but I felt lucky we snapped him up before he realized what he had and went solo.

  Once we realized he could handle the old stuff, it was Jules' idea to start working on new shit. "We're not Wrecked," he repeated for probably the millionth time today. "Let's stop living in the past."

  At that I cleared my throat. "I've got something," I said, feeling the catch of nerves in my throat.

  The other guys looked at me. I'd made noises about writing in the past, but with Killian in the group I'd always just shelved the shit I'd written, not willing to cause a seven-hour fight. Killian perceived any songwriting that wasn't his as high treason.

  "Yeah, mate?" Niall said, encouragingly. "Old shit?"

  I fished into my pocket for the lyrics I'd scratched out this morning upon looking at my reflection in the mirror. "No. It's new. It's called Jagged," I said, feeling as shy as a schoolboy handing it over. "Here's the melody," I said, picking out the notes on my guitar.

  Hudson listened with his head cocked. A grin spread across his face as he started humming, first the simple melody and then improvising harmonies around and above my strumming. Niall found his beat, adding a little walking blues bassline to what I was noodling around with.

  "Shit," Jules swore softly, and went to press record.

  Hudson hummed as he looked at the torn sheet of paper with my hastily jotted lyrics. "So slick and smooth, but it'll cut you when it breaks," he sang and I closed my eyes and remembered CeCe's face in the mirror, smiling back at me. "A jagged piece can't ever be put back together."

  This song was so much slower than the ones we'd played as Wrecked, and Hudson's voice added an extra element of newness to it all. As I swayed in place, letting the music wash over me, I could almost believe that we really were starting over again, that I'd been granted a second chance for real. And that made me really, really fucking happy.

  After Jagged, we segued into Spiraling Smoke, an old one we'd never recorded but often played at live shows. It was a fan favorite, but Killian hadn't been around when Jules and I had written it, so he'd refused to let us record it. Now though. Now we were free to do what we wanted.

  I had no idea how long we were playing. I didn't check my phone, didn't check my watch. Caught up in the flow for the first time in forever, I could have sworn only seconds passed. Only the empty rumble of my stomach let me know for certain we'd been at this forever.

  "What do you say, lads?" Hudson asked in the worst imitation of a British accent I'd ever heard. "Shall we break for a spot of tea?"

  "Never do that again," I snarled, landing a light punch on his upper arm. "You sound like a twat."

  "Fucking fly landed on me just now, did you see it?" he retorted, looking around wildly.

  "Oh, so you're actually an asshole?" Jules laughed.

  "Just trying to fit in," Hudson retorted snappily.

  I burst out laughing. I felt high, jubilant even. I hadn't enjoyed rehearsal in years but this? Playing off each other's strengths? This was how it should be.

  We gathered around the recorder full of hope, but as we listened to the playback, my heart sank. Jules fast forwarded, then played, then fast forwarded again, but everything we heard was the same. We sounded sloppy and out of sync. My optimism had been completely unfounded.

  "Dammit," Jules said, jamming his fingers down onto the off switch. He sighed, and then swore softly.

  "It always sounds better in your head," I reminded him. "That's the nature of the beast."

  Jules closed his eyes, as if summoning the energy to give a polite reply. "So," he said slowly, through gritted teeth. "All we have is Spiraling Smoke," he said. "That's literally the only song we're solid on."

  "We should go back and try Jagged again," Hudson piped up. His voice was raspy after eight hours of rehearsals, but he still smiled. "I really think we had something there." He held up a finger. "My fucking throat, hang on," he said, reaching over and taking a swig from his ridiculously oversized water bottle.

  "You should try tea," Niall suggested.

  "He's American," I pointed out.

  "Y'all ever had sweet tea?" Hudson asked.

  "Down in Texas, yeah," I said with a disparaging sniff.

  Hudson nodded encouragingly. "Best shit in the world."

  "I'm surprised I didn't contract diabetes on the spot," Jules grumbled.

  "You're just jealous that everything that tastes good is American," Hudson laughed, jumping into a boxer's pose and dancing around Jules' kit, shadowboxing. I recognized the need to blow off steam. I was ready to start a fight too, just to clear my head. "Oh yeah, that's right, I said it. I went there."

  Jules growled. "Don't make me kick you your ass, you insufferable prick," he said, standing up and rolling up his sleeves. "This is for God, country, the Queen and tea, all rolled in one!"

  I laughed and started cheering for Hudson as Jules rugby tackled him to the ground.

  Jules had the element of surprise, and Hudson clearly didn't want to really hurt him, so the two flopped around on the ground while Niall and I shouted encouragement. Until the door buzzed.

  "Boys!" August called, her siren voice echoing throughout the warehouse space. "Working hard I see?"

  "We literally just took a break, get off our back," Jules called from the floor. He was still pissed at her.

  For her part, she just rolled her eyes. "Get off yours," she sniped back, looking at where Hudson had him pinned. "Somebody's here to see you guys."

  I hated how quickly my head snapped over to the door, heart already racing eagerly.

  And when Celia walked through the door, it immediately did a triple backflip.

  "Hi there!" I called, a little too eagerly.

  She shot me a smile that seemed like it was all for me. Then she turned and looked at the rest of the lads. Hudson was helping Jules back up again. Jules shrugged him off and started tugging at his shirt. "Hey C. What's that?" he asked, indicating the stack of papers that Celia was waving around.

  Crap, how did she get even prettier? She must've shown up right from the office, wearing this cute little flared skirt and a tight blouse like some kind of schoolgirl all grown up. She'd done something different to her hair too, combed it out into wild waves that my fingers ached to sink into and the glasses were in full-force. She grinned at Jules and slapped the pile of papers down on an amp stack.

  "Is this what I think it is?" Hudson gasped.

  Celia clapped her hands together. "Congratulations guys!" she crowed. "Anthem Records wants to sign you!"

  Hudson shouted, leaping into the air as Niall bolted to his feet and hugged August. Jules ran over to Celia and spun her around as she screamed. Hudson rushed over and grabbed her hand, pumping it down up and down with both of his huge hands dwarfing hers. Niall came over and
she accepted a shy hug from him, and all the while I watched, waiting for my turn to touch her.

  When August was finally done screaming, I walked up to Celia. "Hey," I said. She bit her lip. And yeah, it was distracting, but I had to say this. "Thank you," I said to her.

  "I'm just doing my job," she said with a cheeky grin.

  I shook my head. "Don't diminish it." I ordered her. "Thank you for believing in me even when I was too far up my own ass to believe in myself."

  I thought I'd make her laugh, but instead she bit her lip again. Fucking hell. I had the urge to tell everyone in the room to get the hell out. "Your hair looks good," she said softly.

  Yes, everyone needed to get the hell out right now. I opened my mouth to say so, but Hudson, fucking Hudson and his overeager desire to please, suddenly leaped over to her. "Hey C," he said. "You want to hear what were working on?"

  I groaned inwardly. What we had was a bunch of shit, we'd just proved that to ourselves. We were overtired, overextended, overtaxed. We were pushing ourselves when we should be resting, and regrouping and fuck, celebrating. We weren't ready, but then Celia looked at him, and then me. "I really do," she said.

  Goddammit, I started scrambling.

  We all rushed back to our places, and I fumbled to plug myself back into the amp, my finger shaking. I've played in stadiums thirty thousand people strong, but this one woman watching me mattered more than everything that had come before. She sat down next to August on a rickety folding chair, and Jules counted off the beats.