European Tour (Rocking the Pop Star Book 1) (10 page)

Calm from our fit of laughter, I kiss her on the temple. “Are you ready for the new music Pit Viper’s going to be playing for you?”

“Yes. I’m looking forward to it, but I still wish you were appearing onstage with me.”

I shift so we’re at eye level. “Sky, I want nothing more than to be able to share the music world with you, but I left it all behind for very serious reasons.”

“I know, and I don’t mean to belabor the point. I-I’ve grown to care about you and I know from the one time I’ve seen you play, that music is your passion as much or more than it is mine. There’s a gift within you that I’ve never known anyone else to possess, and you’re allowing it to lie untapped and uncultivated. You’re not sharing it with the world. That is a travesty.”

“I think you have enough passion for both of us,” I say.

She says she’s grown to care about me, and I must really love this girl, because I’m not flipping my shit over her bringing up the subject of me performing again.

“If I could do music the way I’ve done it in the past, don’t you think I would? It’s taken me five long years to come to terms with the fact that I can’t do what I love because of the darkness it brings out in me.”

“I don’t understand,” she says. “But I will trust that you know yourself better than anyone and that you can’t do it anymore for your own health and wellbeing. If staying away from it will keep you sober, I won’t push you to do it.”

“Thank you, Sky.”

I’m
this
close to telling her everything, but I want her to have the tour out of the way before I do. I want to see if we’re on the same page concerning our relationship.

The next three and a half weeks are going to be the longest of my life.

SKYLAR

DAY TWENTY-SIX

Mother gives my suite a sweeping appraisal. “You’re shacking up with your P.A. now?”

I purposely hadn’t bothered to remove all of Brody’s things that migrated into my room courtesy of our late night liaisons.

She stands in front of a pair of his MMA shorts on the ottoman and her lip curls in distaste.

He’d sparred with Malik last night and ended up in my bed after we showered together.

“You’re in rare form, Mother.”

Removing her gloves, she takes a seat in an armchair, and I perch on the edge of the ottoman next to Brody’s shorts.

Mother is one of the few women in this century who still wears gloves when she travels for no apparent reason other than for them to be an accessory.

“It isn’t
my
form that should be called into question,” Mother says. “You do realize that ticket sales are way down while you’re playing footsies with your P.A.?”

“We are mitigating the losses. In addition to your hiring of Pit Viper, Brody and I have shored up the marketing. Cyndi has re-choreographed several of my songs, and the show tonight should boost ticket sales in the last two venues considerably.”

“We shall see.” Mother crosses her right leg delicately over her left. “Where is your—
boy toy
, is it?”

“He’s not a boy, and definitely not anyone’s toy,” I say through gritted teeth. “He’s a man and a very intelligent and talented one.”

“Oh? That’s not what the tabloids call him. Or have you even been keeping up with what’s being said about you in the news media?”

“Is the news media you’re talking about rags like
International Inspirer
, or the
Gossip Maven
blog
?
”

“You turn up your nose, but people read those rags and make decisions about things like whether to buy tickets to a tarnished pop star’s concerts.”

Her words cut to the bone, but I am determined not to allow her to reduce me to tears anymore. I stand up. “Are you so hateful that you’d like to see me fail, Mother?”

Face crumbling, she springs out of her chair and wraps her arms around me. “My darling girl, you are the only daughter I have, and I’ve always cheered you on. In
all
your endeavors. I’m merely disappointed that you would throw all your hard work away for a man who’s beneath you.”

Shaking my head, I wrench away from her. “Brody isn’t beneath me! Is there a sincere bone in your body anymore, Mother?”

She huffs a laborious sigh. “
Skylar
. Obviously, this man has his claws into you very deeply. Nothing I say will convince you to come to your senses and see him for what he really is.”

“What is he really, in your opinion, Mother?”

“He’s a drug addict.”

“I know all about Brody’s struggles with addiction. He was reluctant to take this job because of it. The question is how do you know this?”

Mother seems surprised that I already know this about Brody. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. A man his age retires from the business only for a handful of reasons.” She opens her mouth as if she has something more to say. Displaying a look of utter defeat, she closes her mouth and raises both her hands in a conciliatory gesture.

“He is a smart one,” she says calmly. “Giving you bits and pieces of his past. Reeling you in just as neat as you please. But you mark my words, he’s going to sweep in and lower the boom. That is, if he doesn’t relapse first.”

She retrieves her purse and gloves from the chair. “I’m going to go to my room to take a shower and get ready for the concert. I suggest you do the same.”

“Jenny’s on her way here now to do my hair and help me gather all my wardrobe changes. We’ve done three whole other concerts without your direction. I’m sure we can do the next three.”

Mother opens the door. “I sincerely hope that’s the case, my dear.”

I knew she couldn’t leave without having the last word.

I peek out from backstage to take in the epic crowd we have drawn in Madrid. The lights are dramatically low as Alyssa performs “This Song Is For You.” She holds the final note and fireworks explode. The packed audience goes nuts for her finale. Pit Viper’s worth every penny of the investment I made. This crowd is almost double the size of the crowd we had in Berlin.

“Five minutes until show time,” Brody whispers against my ear.

I smile and lean back against his solid form.

Alyssa runs backstage straight into my arms when the fireworks effect dies off and a partition goes up so the set can be changed. Brody and I share a group hug with her. “Sky, the crowd is
sick
tonight. Go on and kill it, girl.”

“I will,” I promise.

She continues in the direction of her dressing room.

Brody walks me out to the elaborate set where a trapeze is set up for my grand entrance. He gets me seated on the device and fastens the harness. He looks around, and I do, too.

The crew is busy with last-second preparations and not watching us, so I get a soft kiss on the lips.

“I’ll be standing in my usual spot,” he says. “Give those gossip rags something to write about this week.”

I nod and say, “Will do.”

My band members take their places on stage with Pit Viper waiting in the wings for his cue. He’s supposed to enter stage left and join the band after I’m lowered onto the stage and the dance routine begins.

The pulleys engage, raising me high into the scaffolding that holds the giant klieg lights, and I look down. My mother is waiting in the wings, her lips pursed in displeasure.

What else is new? She’d disappeared during Alyssa’s show and I’d thought perhaps she was sitting the show out in the green room. We haven’t spoken since our “Come to Jesus” meeting earlier, and she’d made her own way to the concert, refusing to ride in the limo with Brody, Malik, and me.

My stomach flutters and fizzes like champagne, and I take a deep breath. Most performers get a little nervous before going on stage, and even being as experienced as I am I know if this didn’t happen, I’d probably turn in a lousy performance.

The dancers take their places.

I lower the hands-free mic to my lips and flip the tiny switch on the battery pack strapped under my costume. My heart leaps, but I don’t dare make any sound because the mic could already be live.

The stage engineer’s voice finally feeds into my earpiece. “Ready, Skylar?”

“Yes.”

The lights come up and the music begins to play. The countdown begins in my ear.

I begin to sing at my cue as I’m lowered onto the stage. The crowd erupts into cheers. I begin the set with “Love Me Now.”

My feet touch the stage and I release the harness. We’ve rehearsed this to death, so I fall into perfect step with the dancers.

Pit Viper cuts in with an intricate string of riffs as I complete the first turn with the dancers. The crowd goes wild with the legendary guitarist’s entrance. A spotlight follows him onto his mark on the stage.

I sing, and we dance in a semicircle around him.

Our hard work this week has paid off. Pit Viper’s Fender adds lushness to the music that keeps the crowd engaged. I soar through song after song, transitioning from upbeat tempos with choreographed dance routines to ballads, all while making several small wardrobe changes.

We begin the finale, “Masquerade.” Pit Viper plays it much as we practiced it for the past three days.

It’s funny how each artist brings something different to the table. It isn’t as extraordinary as Brody’s version, but it is an excellent rendition. The rest of my crew hasn’t heard Brody’s version and have nothing to compare this to. Naturally, they’re thrilled with it.

Suddenly, Pit’s rehearsed solo changes. It morphs into a sequence of notes nearly identical to what Brody played.

I’m stunned, so I miss my return. One of the backup singers covers for me while I gawk at the man.

Pit is in the zone and doesn’t seem to be aware of my distress. That’s
Brody’s
solo, not his.

The lights go down. I race backstage to Brody who stands with a half angry, half suspicious look on his face.

“What the fuck was that, Sky?” he asks, and there’s a hard edge to his tone.

“Believe me, I’m just as confused as you are.”

We turn to look at Pit Viper, who—walking toward us— is wearing a shit-eating grin.

We don’t have time to question him. The crowd is crying for an encore, and I never refuse a first encore.

My mother pushes Pit Viper back out on stage before he can reach us and yells to me. “They want you two back, Sky.”

We can only go back out on stage and do a five minute encore for my and Pit Viper’s adoring fans as my boyfriend watches another man precisely mimic his guitar solo.

After-concert interviews have already been set up, so Pit Viper and I have to run the media gauntlet. Brody keeps me moving through while my mother handles Pit Viper, keeping his interviews moving from one magazine to another, one radio personality to another, and finally to live television spots. These have been designed to get some good press out before the final two concerts.

We get to the iconic deejay Donald Jones reporting live to his legions of fans.

“Skylar,” the deejay starts, “I think my fans join me in my assessment that this was the best concert on the tour. Do you agree?”

“Yes, D.J., I think tonight’s concert served to unify my pop fans and Pit Viper’s rock fans in a way that hasn’t been done since the King of Pop worked with Eddie Van Halen and Slash.”

“I think you’re right. Van Halen worked with Michael on his
Thriller
album and Slash on his
Dangerous
album. Listen, how did you know about those guys, anyway? You were probably running around in your nappies while at least one of these occurred.”

He laughs, and I laugh along for the camera. “My P.A. is a music history buff and he shared that bit of information with me.” I figure I owe Brody a shout-out since his solo had been stolen and we hadn’t even had time to try to get to the bottom of that fiasco.

I smile at Brody. He’s standing just on the edge of the crowd. This interview is live and he doesn’t want to be in the footage.

“Smart P.A.,” D.J. says. “Now, one final question, because I know you’ve got a few more of these after me. What was going on with the big screen over the stage during the finale?”

“What do you mean?” Try as I might to keep my expressions pretty enough to film, I can feel my brow furrowing. “I wasn’t aware anything was going on with the marquee.”

“Well, during the first part of the song “Masquerade,” the graphics sequence displayed Pit Viper’s name, but during the guitar solo, Savage Saban’s name appeared up there. Intentional? Or fluke? Because that solo was awesome and sounded exactly like something Saban would do. That guy had guitar chops that just wouldn’t quit. Pit Viper is fabulous, don’t get me wrong, but it’s like the spirit of Savage Saban was on that stage tonight.”

My gaze flies to Brody.

He shakes his head minutely and his eyes plead with me in a way that makes my blood chill.