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A knock on my window startles me out of my reverie.
An extremely thin blonde woman peers in through the glass and waves. “Mallory! Right?” she shouts.
I motion that I’m going to open the door and she jumps back.
“I’m Madeline Southgate.” She wraps her arms around me. Strong hugger for such a bony girl.
I awkwardly hug this person I’ve never met before back. “Uh, Mallory Dove.”
“I’m so happy you’re here,” she gushes. “You’re going to love working with my dad. Everyone does.”
Remembering Marilyn’s words about how Madeline only has her part because her father’s the producer, I almost roll my eyes. But, really, who am I to judge? If my father were a famous Hollywood producer—instead of a mob boss parked in federal prison at the moment—I’d probably ask to be cast in his shows too. She’s certainly not trying to hide their relationship, and I actually respect that.
“I know you met Colby at the audition and Joan and Kurtis,” she rattles off a bunch of other names as she loops her arm through mine and leads me into the studio.
“Don’t worry about the show. It’ll get picked up. In thirty years, my father’s only had two shows get turned down,” she assures me.
“Well, I hope we’re not the unlucky third.” I laugh nervously.
“Shh.” Her gaze darts around the cavernous room. “Don’t even joke about that.” She points to the ceiling. “The T.V. gods are always listening and very fickle.”
I blink and stare. Great, another crazy person.
She breaks into wild laughter and slaps my shoulder. “I’m fucking with you, Mallory. Although, yeah, half of Hollywood is crazy superstitious. Come on, let’s go find your dressing room.”
By the end of the day, I’m exhausted, but hopeful.
Chapter Forty-Six
Chaser
Maybe Mark got wind of Jacob’s attempt to talk my fiancée into orgasming on Lies and Other Promises. Music industry folks love to gossip and I’m sure after working with us, the sound engineer we used needed to seek therapy.
Whatever the reason, Mark calls in a guy to mix the album before we leave Vancouver. No fucking around this time. Mark stays with us throughout the process, cutting off any attempts by Jacob to start navel-gazing. If the urge to stab Andrew wasn’t still lingering in my gut, I’d call and ask him if this is Cutter’s usual process.
“You did good, kid.” Mark shakes my hand and gives me a fatherly pat on the back when the album’s finally finished.
He glances around the sound room, but we’re alone for now. “You ever record those tracks with Mitchell?”
Not all that surprised he knows about it, I nod. “I think he only used one of them, though.” I hesitate, wanting to choose my words carefully. Last thing I need is gossip floating around that I trashed America’s beloved pop music superstar. “It was a…strange process.”
“Mitchell’s a strange guy.” He glances at the doorway again. “Are you interested in working with any other mainstream acts? As a featured guitarist? Or even contributing some lyrics.”
“I’d have to consider the project. Do you have someone specific in mind?”
“A few artists, but I wanted to know if you were open to the idea, first.”
Not expecting this, I run my hand over the back of my neck a few times. “I need to be home for a few weeks before we go back out on the road. I can’t—”
“No, no. We’ll schedule it in L.A. for you. This…” he sweeps his hand over the soundboard in front of us, “…was to get your album done in a reasonable amount of time so the label didn’t drop Kickstart.”
My stomach plummets into my boots. “What? Was that a possibility?”
He arches a brow. “You didn’t hear that from me. But after the EP took so long…the rumors of Jacob’s drug habits, Andrew’s shooting, your arrest for the shooting… Let’s just say, the suits have had some reservations about Kickstart’s long-term viability.”
“Fuck.” I stab my fingers through my hair and stare up at the ceiling. “Thom never said anything.”
“I doubt they were that blunt with him.”
“Shit.”
“Every label’s signing metal bands now. There’s a race to produce as many albums as possible and cash in on the trend before the bubble pops. Half of them are garbage. Hell, more than half. Kickstart’s got staying power, Chaser. You have staying power. Real talent. You’re more than a trend. I’m glad you have an open mind.”
Of course, I do. If I can keep publishing rights to just one hit song, it could set Mallory and I up for years to come. “I’m always willing to listen, Mark. And I’m open to all different genres.”
He grins. “Andrew talk to you about his rock-rap-blues fusion project?”
I snort. “Yeah, I think I talked him into adding a little country into that mix.”
“Holy smokes. I don’t know if I’m going to touch that one.” He chuckles. “If anyone could make it happen, though, the two of you could.”
Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not working with Andrew any time soon.
I don’t bother saying that to Mark. As close as we’ve gotten while working together these last few weeks, it’s still better to keep that whole goatfuck of a weekend to myself. In musical matters I trust him, personal stuff, not so much.
“We’ll see.”
Alvin slaps his palm against the open door and pops his head into the room. “Pizza’s here.”
I turn to leave, but Mark stops me. “Keep this between us for now.”
As much as I hate hiding shit from Alvin, he won’t hold it against me. Garrett won’t give a shit either. Jacob, on the other hand, he’ll pout like a baby. “No problem.”
Someone added champagne to our pizza order. I almost question whether that’s a good idea for Jacob, then remember how annoyed I was when my dad questioned me having a fucking beer at the clubhouse. Jacob’s worked hard. Hasn’t slipped up once. We finished an album for fuck’s sake. We should celebrate.
“To us!” Jacob cheers. “We actually fucking did it!” He slams his glass into mine, spilling liquid everywhere.
“You did good, Jacob.” Mark slaps him on the back. “You each brought your A game. I’m incredibly proud. I think this album’s going to be huge.”
“I’ll toast to that!” Garrett raises his glass.
“Mmm. Pizza and champagne. Almost feels like the early days.” Alvin nudges me. “Well, pizza and cheap beer.”
“What do you mean old days? That’s still your go-to dinner,” Garrett says.
“True.” Alvin grins. “No shame.”
We finish up in the studio and head back to the house.
“You all packed and ready to go?” Alvin asks.
“Fuck yeah.”
“Sweet, let’s grab our shit and haul ass to the airport.”
Jacob and Garrett planned to stay and bum around the city for a while.
Not me. I’ve been away from my girl long enough.
Mallory
“Chaser!” I jump and wave, hoping he can see me over the crush of people.
He scans the crowd and I wave again.
Suddenly he’s pushing and weaving past bodies. I say a quick prayer of thanks that he’s not still limping from his injured foot. Behind him, Alvin raises his arm in hello.
I squeal and laugh when Chaser scoops me up in his arms. “Oh, fuck I missed you,” he says before slanting his mouth over mine.
I throw my arms around his neck and p
ull him down for a deeper kiss, welcoming him home with everything I have. Breathless, we part and stare at each other. “We cut it close on the ten-day mark this time.”
“We did.” He hugs me again and lifts me for another quick kiss. “But I’m all yours now.”
Alvin’s patiently waiting behind Chaser and once I’m on my feet, I give him a quick hello hug. “Welcome home.”
“Thanks, Mallory. It’s nice to have someone happy to see me.”
Chaser slaps his friend’s shoulder. “Quit whining. I just spent weeks holed up with you and I’m still happy you’re here.”
Alvin cracks a smile, then his expression darkens. “Fuck, I forgot. I don’t have anywhere to go home to.”
“You’ll come home with us,” I answer quickly. “We have plenty of room.”
“Nah, I’ll go stay at a hotel.”
“Bro, come on,” Chaser says. “You’re always welcome at our place.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I insist. “Come on. I want to hear everything about the album.”
Chaser curls his arm around me and kisses my cheek again. “What are you even doing here? I didn’t want you to have to come pick me up.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
We hit traffic at the worst possible time of the day but finally arrive at the house.
Thankfully, when I planned Chaser’s welcome home dinner, I bought extra steaks in case any of the guys ended up joining us.
Chaser eyes the platter of meat with a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Are you putting me to work already?”
“Yup.” I wave at the patio. “I don’t know how to use the grill. Doug will probably be mad if I set the house on fire.”
“I’ll supervise,” Alvin promises.
I’m busy chopping vegetables for the pasta salad I’m throwing together when Chaser joins me a few minutes later, wrapping his arms around my waist, molding himself to my back. “Thank you for this.”
“What?”
“A nice quiet night home.” He kisses my neck. “Feeding us. Letting Alvin stay here. Just generally being awesome.”
I set my knife down and lean into him. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m so happy you’re home.” I turn and loop my arms around his neck, tipping my head to meet his eyes. “I’m excited for you guys. I can’t wait to hear the new album.”
