AllFreeNovel
Share Us
prologue
Bad Habits
Cooper
“We can’t keep doing this, Coop.” Our band manager, Mackenzie, tosses her phone onto the coffee table between us. The headline that glares up at me works in tandem with my pounding headache to remind me of last night’s events. The music tabloids have apparently chosen me as their latest whipping boy. It’s not that big of a deal. Not to me, anyway.
“Doing what, Mac? Reading lies on the internet?” I scoff at the idea. “That’s all there is on there. Nobody believes any of that shit.”
She leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees, flattening me with a stare. “That would be awesome news if there wasn’t photographic evidence plastered all over the place.” Her head drops into her hands, and she sighs heavily, her shoulders sagging and her long purple hair curtaining her pretty face. We’d be in serious trouble if we all didn’t think of Mac like a sister.
I jump up from the couch and start pacing, feeling the metaphorical cage bars closing in around me. I knew they would come eventually. I just didn’t expect it so soon. Murderous Crows is just starting to make a name for ourselves, and so far, it hasn’t been the most positive. First, with our drummer Andy’s death from drunk driving, then our singer Jake getting falsely accused and arrested for it, and most recently, I’ve been hounded whenever I go out or have a good time. I can’t blink without some idiot taking it the wrong way and turning it into something it’s not. And all that doesn’t even include the bullshit our former merchandise chick, Nyx, is selling to the tabloids. I sure hope she’s enjoying her joy ride straight to hell.
“Have you been able to get hold of Nyx yet? Find out why she’s selling made-up stories?”
Mac peeks up at me between her fingers and arches a skeptical brow. “Made up?”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, okay. Exaggerated. You know what I mean.”
“No. I think she blocked me.” She snatches her phone off the table, rapping a nail on the blank screen while holding it out to me. “Nyx has nothing to do with this. She didn’t force you to make out with two girls in the women’s bathroom of the Rainbow last night. And I hope they were of legal age.”
Hazy memories of how the evening ended float around my brain, but I’m not dumb enough to smile about it in front of Mac. She’d have my head. “I forgot to card them. My bad.”
“This is serious Cooper. Your reputation affects all of us connected with you. I don’t know what is so hard about that concept. What you do in public has consequences, and not just for you.”
“Oh, so I’m making you look bad? Is that the problem?”
“Yes, actually. You are, and it is.” She stands up and crosses her arms over her chest. I’m in trouble now. Shit. “Murderous Crows aren’t nobody anymore, Cooper. People are watching and forming opinions whether we like it or not. And we have higher-ups we answer to now, too. Blackmore Records isn’t going to put up with their name getting dragged behind your stupid ass for much longer. So, either clean up your act or try to balance it out.”
I start pacing again. This sucks. I mean, this fucking sucks. I am not one to be told what to do under any circumstances, and this sure as hell feels like I am. I have never taken orders well, if at all, and I’m not sure I’m so inclined as to start now. If I had feathers, they’d be ruffled all the hell up.
Running my hands through my hair, my brain feels like all cylinders are misfiring. I should probably do something to clean up this mess. Mac isn’t totally wrong about that. Maybe I could donate to a charity or do some community service, though the idea of volunteering makes me cringe.
Maybe I could call some of our contacts at the record label for advice. They’d probably suggest some bullshit like rehab or anger management classes. As if I have a real problem. I just like to party and have fun. Is that such a crime?
Something in my brain clicks as my thoughts run through tangents. Ryan Crawford, the lead singer and guitarist of Indigo King, a band we’ve worked with in the past, talked to me about a music mentorship program he was a part of last year. He thought I’d be interested in doing something like that. At the time, I didn’t think much of it because what the hell do I know about teaching or mentoring anybody? Zilch. But…maybe it would get Mac and the label off my back for a while. Some good press to balance shit out, like she said.
A mentorship program might be a good compromise, I muse. I could pretend to mentor some lucky fan for a few weeks in return for good PR. The kid would be thrilled just to hang out with a rockstar like me. Right?
Easy enough.
Except it’s not that easy. Not really. Not for me. No matter how much I try to force the bad-boy rockstar ego thing, it doesn’t fit. It feels all wrong. I know I pull it off because the evidence is right there on the screen, staring back at me, but it’s hollow. Would mentoring someone else make any difference? Change anything? It might be worth a shot.
“Ryan told me about a guitar mentorship he did a little while ago--”
“The Rhapsody Foundation!” Mac snaps her fingers, and her face lights up, her entire demeanor changing. “Of course. It’s perfect. You have to do it. Great idea.” She claps her hands, grabs her purse off the couch, and heads toward the door to leave. I’m extremely caught off guard at the suddenness of her exit. We were in the middle of a fucking conversation. Or at least I thought we were.
“Mac, where are you--”
“I’ll get all the info and text you later, okay? Bye!”
And with that, she’s gone.
I don’t think I’ve even had time to blink.
What the actual fuck just happened?
one
