Hung Out: A Needles and Pins Rock Romance (59 page)

“You don’t want those floating around the internet. A studio version will ensure your interests are protected. Aside from that, the cover version is beautiful. It should be ‘out there.’”

Her first instinct had been to pick up the phone and ask Gage’s advice. Instead, she’d dialed her stepfather’s number and found him in agreement. He’d even looked over the paperwork and had assured her Jewelstone was known for looking out for the interests of the talent they signed.

After much deliberation, she’d flown here the day after her last final, courtesy of a private jet Jewelstone had sent, to have a recording session as well as to finalize her therapeutic presence on the tour.

“Scarlette! Welcome!” Jax manifested in the doorway and shook her hand. “I wanted to meet you at the airport myself, but was finishing up a project. Your flight go okay?”

“Everything was wonderful. Thanks.”

“Excuse me…” A very familiar face in the alternative rock world came into view. The young woman curved an apologetic smile toward Scarlette and introduced herself. “I’m the project from hell.”

Scarlette watched the banter between the two as they discussed a closed hi hat versus a foot hi hat. Soon the young woman apologized again and waved as she moved off. “Thanks for letting me interrupt, Scarlette. I’ll leave you now in the genius hands of this man and his soundboard.”

Jax had one of his tech guys bring her guitar in and explained that the session wouldn’t take long. “We want the sound as real and raw as possible.”

She recorded on her guitar as well as another, and they did three vocal takes. Jax explained the final mix might be overlaid with some of his own recording of the melody. A beautiful woman he introduced as his wife videoed parts of the session. It was painless and complete by the end of the day.

“Do I remember you saying you didn’t begin playing until around a year ago?” He asked while playing back one of the tracks. When she confirmed, he was interested in how much she practiced. Her several hours on most days seemed to impress him. And in the end, he concluded with a smile and a shake of his head the same thing Gage, Colt, and Seth had. “Just another living prodigy as proof—skills are as much genetic as learned.”

She knew she didn’t yet have the abilities of the many musicians she admired. But she was getting there. And in the meantime, it was nice to have experts comment on how well the uncomplicated compositions complimented her voice.

Over dinner with his family, they talked of the tour. He said it was going well but he was concerned about the drummer staying clean on the road. “And your broth—your—Gage…” He fumbled the reference and actually flushed! “Gage, I know is determined. But it won’t hurt to have an expert—you—right there in case he runs into trouble.”

His wife took that moment to intervene subtly. “Who’s ready for dessert?”

They drove her to the airport as night fell. At the foot of the airstairs, they parted with a shake of hands, spontaneous hugs, and Jax’s wife passed her a care package containing a couple of slices of the cheesecake she’d turned down due to being too full from the delicious Italian entree.

“Welcome to the Jewelstone family, Scarlette. Looking forward to working with you.”

Watching the metropolis lights fade as the plane headed west, she replayed the day. She knew what she’d been offered musically with Jewelstone was based as much on the merit of who she was as who she could be. Her father had been a musical genius and everyone who knew music and heard her play believed she had inherited his skills. She could be great one day. But she was Scarlette Conterra. Did a name sell itself in this industry?

And what did she want? Right now, music was a newly discovered passion. An outlet for her confused and stressed emotions. Was she ready for it to become more? And if it did, would she have to choose between music and the career she’d schooled for?

Graduation night arrived
. Speeches were made and diplomas dispensed.

Logan waved and she grinned as she made her way through the crowd toward him.

“So…” He pulled her into a hug. “What’re we doing to celebrate?”

Easing from his embrace, but remaining in the curve of his arm, she bit back the first flirtatious answer springing to mind. Had it been Derrick, they would have celebrated with wine, hot sauce, and sex. Had it been Gage, likely they would have taken a guitar or two and the wine straight to bed, playing and drinking between the sex. But even though she and Logan had been dating exclusively since just after the holidays, their relationship had never heated up.

Their relationship was odd, but it worked for her in all ways except sex. She enjoyed Logan’s company and having a boyfriend kept most other men away. However, it would’ve been nice to get-off to more than the pulsating spray of the shower massage wand.

“My mom wants to take us out to eat, if that’s okay. After that, you and I could grab a drink. Then I have to go home. Finish packing.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow’s the big day.” He spoke of the Rattler tour. For a moment, she glimpsed sadness beyond the attractive brandy tint of his irises. But his wide smile indicated he was happy for her.

Scarlette had last seen her parent near the grand staircase of the auditorium hallway. Tugging on Logan’s hand, she headed that way. Henni seemed distracted, but she quickly pasted on a smile. Wondering what was up, Scarlette excused herself to the restroom.

“It’s really crowded…” Her mother curved restraining fingers around her wrist. “Why don’t you wait until we get to the restaurant?”

“I’ve really got to…” Scarlette coughed, embarrassed to have this conversation in front of Logan. “…I’ve got to now, Mom. If you guys want to get out of here, I’ll find you outside.”

Her mother’s hand left hers with a reluctant slide, and she spoke decisively. “We’ll wait here.”

The lavatory was well designed with plenty of stalls and very
un
-crowded. Surprised, she wondered if there had been a rush several minutes ago on toilets and the wave was now over.

After washing her hands, she lingered, tucking stray hairs back into hairclips. Leaning into the mirror, she rimmed her lips with the dramatic shade of lip color she wore this evening. She was dropping the slim tube of makeup into her purse when she exited into the narrow hallway. Her chin was down and her eyes were on the zipper of her knock-off Birkin bag—she loved the design, but even with an unlimited flow of money, she wouldn’t pay five figures for a purse.

“Hello, Scarla Smythe! Or is it Scarlette Conterra these days?” The man’s voice was familiar. She felt a sense of having heard it on a phone, or similar, off and on her entire life. Curiously, she lifted her gaze. Automatically, since he’d called her by the name that tended to draw a crowd, she did a sweep of surrounding faces before settling on the one addressing her.

Wayne Ketchum
.

Press was limited. A ceremony such as this in Tinsletown was almost a guarantee that someone would be a known name or have a close friend or relative in the audience looking on.

“What are
you
doing here?” Normally, she was friendly with press and paparazzi. But the unwanted attention of this particular one throughout the past months brought out the worst in her.

“We need to talk. Your security team guards your home like the White House. And your mother won’t give me your phone number to set up a meeting, which I realize would be the polite way of doing things.”

“It would,” she agreed coolly, and backed up a step since he was advancing as he spoke. “Give my publicist a ring.” Automatically, she pulled one of the business cards from the pocket of her phone case. But suddenly he was so close, she could feel his breath. The card glided to the floor. “Really, Mr. Ketchum.” Yeah, that surprised him. He blinked upon hearing she knew his name. “Now isn’t the time.”

Double doors to her left led to the balcony of the auditorium. She wasn’t sure if he was familiar with the layout, or if he got lucky when he clamped a hand on her arm, dragging her through them. She jerked away as the doors swung closed behind them. Since everyone had vacated the auditorium—at least this section of it—there was no traffic on the stairs. Her heart pounded in fear as a realization settled. They were unlikely to be interrupted, and he was blocking her exit. Her neck craned upward as she contemplated escaping up the stairs. She did put the distance of a few steps up between them and decided she would scream if he closed in again.

“Fine.” She forced bravado into her mutter of assent. “I’m listening. You have one minute.”

He smiled and it was then she thought of how many different types of smiles there were. A truly happy smile was only a fraction of his expression. His lips held a sneering curve while he assessed her, as if taking note of something for the first time. And then his mouth thinned into a line and his smug demeanor faltered some.

‘Ghosted’ was her first thought. But he’d observed her for months. He’d had plenty of time to see her father in her face.

“Scarlette Ketchum.” His beady eyes studied her reaction to these puzzling words. “Not nearly as pretty a name as Scarlette Conterra, is it?” And he smiled—an ugly smile—again. “You can keep your pretty Conterra name, though. No worries. I never wanted a kid anyway. Your mother has my banking details. She paid me yearly, but my price has gone up. I expect to be paid the same, but biannually now. I’ll expect the first deposit within thirty days. And I’ll do you a solid, since we’re kin and all. I’ll waive last year.”

His words bounced around her skull making no sense, and she opened her mouth. Whether to question him, scream at him to leave, or simply scream, she didn’t know. Because no sound came out. The alcove was bright, likely so people wouldn’t trip on the stairs, but the light seemed to dim and the walls pressed in around her. When his foot connected with the first step between them, she automatically grasped the rail for support. Before she could haul her weak knees up one more step, one of his arms arched between them, snatching her purse.

Finally, she did scream. The sound came out in one long blood-curdling yell and she backed up two steps while he ransacked the Birkin contents, pulling cash from her wallet. Dropping the bag, he reminded, “Thirty days. Don’t make me find you.”

And he was gone!

Two men burst through the doors. She realized she’d collapsed onto the stairway and shoved to her feet. The younger of the two picked up her purse from the bottom of the stairway as they both inquired of her wellbeing.

“I fell.” She swallowed the words wanting to push out.
A man who has been stalking me for months pulled me in here, claimed to be my father, threatened and extorted, and then stole what cash I had!
“I just fell.”

By now, a few more people were gawking in the doorway, and the older of the two men inquired of the man they’d seen running out as they ran in.

“I just fell.” She accepted her purse and thanked them both.

“Can you walk?”

She supposed the scream had been louder and scarier than the average I’ve-fallen-down-a-couple-of-stairs scream. “Yeah. Thanks again.”

Her mother and Logan burst on the scene. Amid more ‘I fell’ explanations, she was escorted to her car. The initial plan had been for them stop by her house and drop her car off. Then she and Logan would take his car to the restaurant and her mother would meet them there.

However, as they made the twenty-minute drive to her apartment, Logan leading, Scarlette in the middle, and Henni driving in the rear, she grilled her mom.

After relating what had really happened, she waited a beat. But when Henni’s voice didn’t come through the car speakers, she pressed on. “He said you’ve been paying him. How long and how much? And
why
?”

“There was a chance he was your father.” Henni’s answer was a reluctant breath of words. “It was complicated. Tyler didn’t want to be tied into a relationship. And since I knew he was getting it on with groupies, I had my fun too. It was only fair.”

“And protection?” Scarlette couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. Who had to speak of these things with their mother?

“It was a different time. There weren’t so many diseases. Most women relied on the pill. And I was drinking a lot. Sometimes I guess I threw it up or something. I got pregnant. At first, I thought I wanted money to make the pregnancy disappear, and I went to Wayne. When he refused to take responsibility, I told Tyler. What I didn’t count on was him being thrilled to be a dad.”

Thrilled to be a dad while my own mom was wanting to abort me
…

“Tyler said he’d take care of me. Of you, when you were born. And he said he’d stop whoring on the road. That we’d be a family. And we were. Off and on. When we were, those were the best days of my life. And then when he died… Like my whole world wasn’t crashing down enough… Wayne, like the weasel he is, came out of the woodwork. I had to pay him. What if he was the father? Your inheritance was on the line.”

Scarlette’s fingers bit into the steering wheel, and she made the exit from the freeway to suburbia. Henni had grown quiet.

When her mother’s voice filled the car again, it was obvious she’d been crying. “I always saw Tyler in you. Especially your eyes. But I thought ‘what if I was wrong?’ I couldn’t take the chance. Then, this last couple of years… Now that you’re the age he was when… And now that your hair is the same color… That with your eyes… There’s no doubt in my mind. In anyone’s mind. My God, you look just like him. I’d already quit paying him a couple of years back when the money ran out and promised him once the trust got settled we’d talk. But now it’s so clear you’re not his, I told him to fuck off. I’m sorry, baby, that he came at you like that.”