RIPPED: A Rockstar Romance (Wreckage Book 2) Read online

  The famed Bearsville Studios were nestled in an incongruously bucolic setting. On the other side of a wide, burbling creek, some very contented looking cows grazed on the rolling hills, with a tiny, picturesque red barn in the distance like some fucking Norman Rockwell painting.

  A far cry from the concrete bunkers in bad neighborhoods I was used to working in. "This is too pretty," I commented. "I don't trust it."

  "This is brutal," Niall groaned, clutching his coffee cup with both hands.I had yet to see his eyes open fully.

  "This is the time you and Jimmy agreed to meet," August reminded him in her usual slightly bitchy way as she threw open her door. She tossed her head and then winced a little.

  I hid my grin. "You all right there, love?"

  "I'm fine."

  "Really? You look like you might have hit the Chardonnay a little hard last night."

  She wrinkled her nose. "I don't drink Chardonnay," she sniffed and quickened her pace to be the first to reach the doors of Bearsville Studios.

  Jimmy was waiting for us, full hearty, manful handshakes and backslaps that only Hudson seemed to happy to receive.

  In fact, Hudson seemed to be in his glory, grinning like a Jack-o'lantern and following Jimmy around like a little lost puppy as he took us from room to room, pointing out the set-up, the sound booth. "And here's the lounge area," Jimmy said, sweeping his arm out and inviting us to be impressed.

  I nodded. Ewan made an 'mhmm' sound. Niall tried to open his eyes wider, but failed.

  Hudson gasped like a little girl. "It's fucking awesome!" he practically squealed.

  "So I'm going to let you guys have a powwow real quick. I've got more set-up to do," Jimmy told August.

  "Oh, no worries. I'll come with you and help out," she said.

  Of course she did.

  She followed quickly on his heels, leaving us standing there in the middle of the lounge.

  Niall took that as his cue to flop face first into the black leather couch. "Wake me up when you lot need a bassist," he half-snored.

  But Ewan and I were too busy watching Hudson as he paced in a slow circle, minutely examining everything around him.

  "Really, mate?" Ewan teased, but gently.

  "What?" He turned and spread his hands in a 'what can you do?" gesture. "This is my first time in a real studio like this." He shrugged and returned to gaping at the gold and platinum records that lined the walls.

  "Didn't you ever record with your old band?" Niall asked. Or at least I thought that's what he asked. It was hard to tell with his face mashed into the couch.

  Hudson shrugged again. "Sure we did. But it wasn't anything like this." He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "We scraped together enough pennies to buy like two hours of studio time in some shithole in Jersey City. We had to rush too." He let out a happy sigh, craning his neck to read a newspaper clipping hung high up near the rafters. "Wow," he said, sounding deliriously happy. "To finally be able to do this right..."

  "You know," Ewan said, turning to me. "It's sort of our first record too."

  Niall grunted and sat up, clearly torn between the opportunity for a few minutes of sleep versus the opportunity to give us his opinion. "That's sort of true," he half-spoke, half-yawned. "All our other ones were micromanaged by Killian." He rubbed his eyes and grinned. "He basically used us as his studio musicians. This is going to be a lot different, I can feel it. So it's really going to be like our first time doing it right."

  "But it's not our first time though," I heard myself saying through clenched teeth. This slack-jawed reverence was getting on my nerves. "We're not amateurs and this isn't our first album, much as we'd like to pretend otherwise. Wayward Days? That was the first one. Remember the church?"

  Ewan chuckled. "I don't think I slept a wink in those three days, because I didn't need it." He yawned and gestured to Niall whose head was lolling back. "Now look at us. Bunch of pussies. We're getting old, mates."

  "Speak for yourself," I said, shifting from one leg to another.

  Ewan lifted his chin in an upward nod. "Oy, what's wrong with you? You've been wiggling around like a schoolboy in church all fucking morning."

  I shifted again. "I'm trying out the Scots' look," I told him, deliberately adjusting my groin. "Thinking of getting me a kilt next."

  "You're going commando?" Hudson asked, wandering back to the conversation. "Cool. It's much comfier, isn't it?"

  I narrowed my eyes at him. "I've now learned something about you I never wanted to know.

  Hudson shrugged. "I just hate feeling all confined."

  "I think I need an adult." Niall looked like he was trying to disappear into the couch. "You assholes can all get on me all you want about being posh and shit, but at least I'm wearing fucking underwear."

  "I didn't plan it this way," I protested. "I uh...couldn't find any."

  "We've been here a grand total of a day, how do you not have any underwear?" Ewan demanded.

  I looked him in the eye. "They're missing."

  "Missing? How?"

  I pressed my lips together. He was my best mate. No secrets and all that. But somehow telling him about my little private war with August felt...wrong. Like a betrayal of something, though I wasn't sure of what.

  "Luggage mix-up," was all I said.

  Ewan blinked. "We drove. We didn't fly."

  "Which is why it's so weird, isn't it?" I joked, slapping him on the back. "Now don't let it affect your playing today, okay mate? No matter how hard it is, you have to try not to obsess about the idea of my naked cock swinging freely around in here." I cupped my groin.

  Behind us, Niall groaned. "It's too fucking early for this shit," he said, casting his eyes heavenward.

  "Nah man," Hudson crowed. "Get fucking excited, we're recording!" He was practically pogoing in place. "I can't wait to get in there and let it rip."

  "Good!" came a fifth voice.

  We all turned, and y heart did a funny little skip-hop to see August suddenly in the doorway. "It's a good thing you can't wait because the wait is over." She clapped her hands together like a kindergarten teacher calling class to attention. "Jimmy's ready for you!"

  A little sizzle of excitement fizzed through my veins. I couldn't help it. For all my protests, this was still really fucking exciting. That thrill of creation. "Here we fucking go!" Hudson yelled and barrelled into the studio first.

  August threw her head back and laughed and I could see the excitement shining in her cinnamon eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and her emerald green T-shirt made her red hair flame even brighter. I wet my lips. "You ready to rock, love?" I asked.

  She glanced at me. "I'm going to be in the sound booth," she said.

  "That doesn't answer my question."

  Our eyes locked. I held her gaze as she stared at me for a moment, unblinking. Until the corner of her mouth curved like it was being pulled upward by an invisible string. She leaned forward, lowering her voice so I had to lean closer to hear her, and what I heard had my newly-unconfined cock standing at attention. Her voice, low and thrilling kept sounding in my head long after she said it. "I'm readier than you'll ever be."

  Chapter Eleven

  August

  I took my seat on the stool next to Jimmy and folded my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking.

  Every single nerve in my body seemed to be humming at the same frequency. Something buzzing in the back of my brain was making the hair on my neck stand up. It had nothing to do with Jules, I told myself. It was because it was finally, finally coming together.

  All of my hard work was for this moment.

  We were starting to record.

  "All right," Jimmy drawled in his thick New Jersey accent. He smelled like aftershave and his breath was tinged with coffee and garlic. "Ready, Red?"

  I hid my grimace at being called Red and nodded. "I'm ready. Are they?"

  "You tell me," he said, gesturing to the main studio.

  The guys were each at their stati
ons, deeply engrossing in tuning. Jimmy flicked a switch and suddenly I could hear him over my monitor. "Let's do this one live," Jimmy called. "We got the whole studio miked up so we can get everything. I'll see where we're at with levels on playback."

  "You guys ready?" I added. My skin was humming. The first time I heard Wreckage, I knew they were it. I had never managed a band before, but I'd marched up to their dressing room and announced that I was working with them from then on. It was love at first listen for me.

  But I'm not a fan. Not a groupie, not even back when I was dating Noah.

  No, I'm always working. All my life, if I found a band I loved, I started working for them immediately. While other girls were content to sit in the front row and scream for their idols, I was backstage, harassing the club managers for more dates. I was handing out flyers before big shows, selling merch. Music was always the background noise to the business at hand.

  I rarely got to watch the bands I loved actually do their thing.

  But that's what I was doing right now.

  I'd been at a few of their rehearsals, heard them working on the new material when they played it at underground shows and guest appearances. But I'd always been busy working for them, pressing the flesh and making connections. This was the first time I'd really get to sit down and hear what they'd been working on.

  "Wanna start with this?" I heard Ewan say on the mic. He was pointing at his battered notebook and I ached to see what was written there.

  "Sure, I like that one," Hudson said. "Good warm-up. Right in my range."

  "Your range is like four fucking octaves, dude," Ewan pointed out. "Isn't everything in it?"

  Hudson grinned modestly.

  "Oy, don't encourage his ego," Jules called from his kit.

  I flicked on my mic. "It's not his ego I'm worried about," I said into all their headsets.

  Niall and Ewan laughed, and I grinned, turning to catch Jules's eye.

  He winked at me.

  Fuck it. I was feeling excited.

  I winked back.

  He grinned, then raised his sticks, counting off, "a one and a two and a..."

  I snagged my lower lip in my teeth and bit ever so slightly, blinking rapidly.

  He started with a rat-a-tat on the snare drum, almost a marching beat. Then Jules added in the kick drum, adding a low thrumming bass note to the rising chaos of drumbeats. I closed my eyes and heard the song swell up around it, Niall's bass setting a throbbing counterpoint to that insistent beat before Ewan's sinuous guitar slithered upwards a series of shimmering, ringing notes.

  The music kept swelling, up and up, like a tsunami racing towards a shoreline, but the expected break never happened. I opened my eyes, feeling the tension of that still rising beat. I leaned forward, waiting for Hudson to cut in with vocals and relieve the suddenly unbearable frission, but he still swayed in place, his feet planted. I could feel myself leaning forward, literally at the edge of my seat, frantic for that musical release. Jules looked up from his kit and his dark eyes were nearly black with something that I didn't want to give a name to. On fire, I whipped my head away from his gaze and at that exact moment the rising tension of the music suddenly froze. Hudson fell forward into a deep lunge and belted out a wild, keening wail that made every hair on my arm stand on end and then the rest of the band joined in on that note, cresting that wave and crashing together before ebbing back down again into the chorus.

  I leaned back, panting. I hadn't smoke in years but I had a sudden, desperate need for a cigarette. "Holy shit," I shouted in the too small space. "Aren't they fucking spectacular?" I looked around wildly, certain that everyone in the booth was seeing the magic I was seeing. We were making magic. I was sure of it. And what's more, I was part of it.

  But Jimmy scowled. "They're too fucking loud," he complained, nudging the controls a bit. The song was whipping up again, building up to that same unbearable tension as before, but this time all I saw was Jimmy's fierce frown.

  He suddenly flicked the PA system on. "Cut!" he yelled.

  A ringing silence filled my ears. All four guys looked to us. Hudson was breathless and eager, his eyes shining with the triumph, but the three Brits were more seasoned. I could see the resignation seeping into their expressions.

  Jimmy leaned back and interlaced his fingers on top of his head, shaking it slowly. He leaned forward and flicked the PA on again. "Ewan, play an open chord?"

  Ewan obliged. Jimmy fiddled with his board. "Again?"

  Ewan strummed once more.

  "Give me an E," Jimmy asked, jotting a note down on a piece of paper and passing it to a tech. "Okay, now a G. Again." Ewan strummed. "Again."

  Hudson looked at Jimmy, his eager expression fading. As Ewan kept strumming his eternal G chord, Hudson's face fell further and further and some of my own excitement ebbed away. We were clearly in the hands of a rabid perfectionist. It was one thing to know that ahead of time, when I was booking the studio time on the recommendation of other managers and label insiders.

  But it was quite another to be sitting here with him as he shit all over my band's music.

  "Jules," he snapped over the PA. "Phil here's gonna come and replace the head on your snare. All I hear is hiss on the playback. And Ewan, how old are your strings?"

  "I replaced them yesterday, mate."

  "Replace them again, you're dull as hell."

  I saw Ewan's nose twitch, but he doggedly set about restringing his Gibson.

  Hudson looked at Niall with an expression just like a kicked puppy dog. "Shit man," he sighed and sagged onto his chair and looked over to Jules, who motioned him to switch off his mic before he said anything.

  So I didn't hear it, but I could definitely read his lips when he asked Jules. "When do we get to play music again?" I saw Jules shrug and glance over at me, sitting next to Jimmy and I felt a strange wash of guilt come over me for sitting up here.

  I should be out there. With them. My band. My guys.

  Boundaries, I reminded myself, and grimaced. And with one last, longing glance towards the guys - who were now laughing at something Jules was saying - I sat back on my stool and resigned myself to spending the next two months smelling the garlic on Jimmy's breath and not having any part in the magic after all.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jules

  "It's not right again!" Jimmy yelled over the mic. "Fucking cut!"

  I ripped off my headphones. "Bloody hell, we were just hitting our groove," I complained. "All bloody day with this."

  "Gotta get the best sound," Hudson said, but his usual big, optimistic smile looked like it was fraying around the edges, just like the rest of us. Ewan's hair was sticking almost straight up from him anxiously raking his fingers through it. Niall was slumped almost in half, looking like he could fall asleep any minute now.

  "Want us to take it from the top, Jimmy?" Hudson called over the mic.

  But there was no answer from the booth. Frustrated, he reached for his big bottle of hot water with lemon and slumped against the carpeted back wall.

  The door to the booth opened and a black-clad tech came bustling out. "Just gotta move some mics, guys," he said apologetically.

  "Do what you gotta do, mate," Ewan said, gesturing.

  He scurried from one kit to another, moving around a dizzying array of looping wires and hanging microphones. Each time he moved something, he glanced worriedly back to the sound booth to see if his adjustment met with Jimmy's approval, which was communicated by Jimmy stabbing his finger in the direction of the next mic to be moved.

  Jimmy stabbed his finger towards me. "Oh shit," I said I clenched my fist as a tech made a minute adjustment to my kit. "Sorry," he mumbled as Jimmy stabbed his finger again.

  Then he stepped over me, straddling my lap to reach the high hat.

  His ass was directly in my face.

  "Um." I leaned back as far as I could without falling off my stool. My nerves were frayed from eight hours of audio-tyranny, and the absurdity
of being mooned by a sound tech was the last straw. I started to laugh, helplessly and I could hear Ewan trying to hold back his own laughter which only made it worse.

  "Sorry, sorry, sorry," the tech chanted, but did not move.

  I glanced at Ewan and arranged my face into an expression of utter horror. "Little help?" I mouthed.

  He went bright red. He pressed his lips together and shook his head, making little mmphing sounds.

  Suddenly, a loud snort ripped from his mouth and he let out a huge guffaw.

  "Did you just bloody snort?" Niall demanded.

  Ewan was laughing helplessly, doubled over like he was in pain But somehow he managed, with great effort, to gesture for Niall to look over at where I was sitting with a sweaty bloke's ass-crack in my face. That's all it took for Niall to suddenly crack up as well.

  "Yeah, um," I wheezed. It was an effort to get the words out. "Need me out of the way, mate?" I asked the tech, pushing up from my stool.

  "No!" he barked, and physically shoved me back down. I laughed even harder as I gaped at him. "Sorry but in order to mic you properly, I need to have the correct distance from you chest.

  "Are you going to buy me dinner when you're done?" I asked, wincing back as far as I could. "Usually when someone straddles me like this, it's after a hell of a lot of foreplay."

  "I"m sorry, Mr. Spencer, I just need to..." he grunted and bent down even further. The hem of his vintage Slayer T-shirt rode up, exposing a strip of pimply white flesh. Hudson was rolling on the floor, helpless with laughter. Ewan was wiping his eyes. Niall wasn't making any sound at all, other than the occasional wheeze.

  We were having too much fun. This had to be pissing August right off.

  I twisted on my stool, peering around the tech's hip to see if she was ready to murder us all with her eyes.

  But I couldn't see them at all. Her hands were clapped over her face, hiding them from view. For a second I wondered if she was crying, the way her shoulders were shaking.