Hunting Truth (29 page)

In my peripheral vision, I saw Lucas
freeze. Believe me, he couldn’t have been more surprised than me at
my words.

Mr.
Ego threw back his head and laughed. “You? Don’t make me
laugh. I know who you are, Miss Prince. You’re his interior
designer and . . .
lover
.” The way
that he said that last word made me want to reach over and slap
him. Hard.

Lucas was on his feet in a split second.
“Come on, Issy. We
’re
out of here.”

He stood by my seat expectantly. I felt
trapped. If I didn’t comply, it would cause Lucas embarrassment in
front of that condescending pig, but if I did, the boys could kiss
their hopes of a recording contract goodbye.

“
Just a second, if you don’t mind, Lucas. I
want to make sure that Mr. Forbes here understands exactly who is
walking out of his office without a backward glance—just so that he
regrets it sooner rather than later. You see, looking at the
memorabilia outside, I realized exactly who
he
is.” As I spoke, I looked across at him and took
in his smarmy, arrogant expression, confident that nothing I could
say would affect him in the slightest.

He snickered rudely, his face the image of
arrogance. “So you realized who I am . . . then you should know the
power I can wield in the music industry. If I choose to put the
word out that Denial shouldn’t be signed, then believe me, they
never will be. No matter how good they are. So just who is it that
is about to walk out of my office? Who shall I lose sleep over when
I regret my actions? Hmm?”

“
I
’m the daughter of the guy who put this company on the map.
The guy who made your father a somebody . . . the reason you have
any power in the industry at all. And I’m the goddaughter of three
of your board members. Surely you can figure it out.”

His face was blank.
What an egotistical slimeball! I realized
he had no clue who I was talking about. His job had been handed to
him on a plate. His father had done all of the hard work, building
up the record company and taking a chance on an unknown band that
had paid off, catapulting them all into the major
league.

I gave him a scathing look and stood,
pulling myself up to my full height, my eyes not leaving his.
“Perhaps you should acquaint yourself with the history of the
company you head up
now
that your father has stepped down. May I suggest you start with the
shiny platinum and gold objects that adorn the walls of this place?
My dad was responsible for most of them.”

Just as I began to turn away, I saw the
confusion on his face begin to clear, replaced first with
comprehension and then with disbelief.
“You’re . . . you’re Bryan Prince’s
daughter?”

It was my turn to be smug. “I am indeed.
And I’m sure you can figure out that that makes me Joe, Tommy and
Bill’s goddaughter. You know, those three board members I mentioned
. . .” I allowed him time to digest this information and watched
him shrink from the egotistical, arrogant douchebag that had
believed he had the upper hand when we’d first met, to a humbled,
respectful businessman.

I think Lucas quickly figured it out
too
—or at least noticed
the deflation—because he sat down confidently and pinned Trey with
a determined gaze. What followed was quite incredible. Lucas
managed to negotiate a fantastic five-album recording contract for
the band in no time. He skilfully managed to smooth over the
potentially deal-breaking issue of Scott’s absence, whilst not
allowing Trey to pin me down to the role. He also demanded to know
how Trey knew about Scott going AWOL, but it seems that Trey had
received the information from an anonymous caller. Given that so
few knew about Scot doing a runner, I automatically assumed that
the caller was Joel, until Trey mentioned it had been a
woman.

At Lucas’ insistence we waited while the
contract was prepared and signed by Trey and then, as Trey waited
expectantly for Lucas to sign, Lucas informed him that he’d need
his legal team to examine the contract before he consulted with the
band members to see whether they were prepared to accept the
terms.

When he finished, both Trey and I were
open-mouthed. Trey recovered first. He stood and held out his hand,
informing Lucas that he admired his balls, which made me have to
turn away to stifle a snicker. When I turned back, Lucas’ eyes were
dancing with mirth as he shot me a cheeky wink. A warmth spread
through me—that was the first time Lucas had been happily relaxed
in a while and it was felt good to be a part of the
cause.

His good humor continued when we left the
office.
After stopping
briefly to peruse the platinum and gold discs that had proved so
helpful for the band professionally, and for me on a personal
level, Lucas insisted that I fill him in properly as Carter drove
us back to the Orion Building. I told him about my regular chats
with my godfathers—we’d been in regular contact since Lucas had
thoughtfully arranged the reunion. In one, just a few days before,
Joe had happened to mention that the guys were now all board
members of the record company that had signed Stag all those years
ago.

Lucas
’ face was a picture when I told him that Joe had offered
to get Denial a foot in the door, but I’d told him that Lucas was
doing just fine as their manager. I didn’t tell him that I had a
strong feeling they’d all rather get a record deal on their own
merit even though I thought he’d understand—he’d been a member of
an unknown band at one time, after all. But I told Lucas, who
beamed and said that he too wanted the band to make it on their own
because they were good enough. I teased him, saying he wanted the
kudos of getting them a fairly earned record deal. His mock
indignation told me I was spot on.

Lucas suggested that we go out for a meal
at the Four Seasons to celebrate and to wind down after a fraught
couple of days.
I said
there was no way that we could do that— we had to tell the band
immediately, and besides I needed to practice with them if I was
going to have to go on tour as their drummer. Lucas looked aghast.
Apparently, he’d thought I was bluffing. I wasn’t surprised, after
all, hardly anyone knew I could play. I’d secretly learned in high
school after I’d appeared to have a natural talent. I’d watched
Scott closely too and had picked up his sticks and practiced when
nobody was around. It had also helped me to feel closer to my dad.
I wasn’t in Scott’s league but I could hold a rhythm and I knew
most of Denial’s songs, especially the older stuff. I’d played
along to their self-recorded tracks often enough when I was alone,
admittedly not for a while though.

I asked
Lucas how the hell he thought he was going to find
a drummer who could learn all the band’s material in forty eight
hours. He just shook his head, presumably at his own stupidity, but
it could have been him showing his displeasure at the idea of me
going on tour. I had to admit, the idea made my stomach churn. I
was secretly banking on Scott reappearing and proving his
innocence, unlikely though it seemed. But I couldn’t let the guys
lose their tour booking. They’d have been devastated, although I
had no idea how they’d react to the prospect of me joining them
temporarily.
Only one way to find out!

Lucas called ahead to Chad and asked the
band to meet us at his Queen’s Club with all their gear. Chad
pointed out that Scott had taken his van so there was no way of
getting his drum kit to the club. Lucas calmly told him to call in
a favor, or call a cab, whatever it took but to make sure the drum
kit was at the club within half an hour. I grimaced slightly as I
imagined a chastened Chad quivering in his boots when the call
ended. He’d been given an order by his idol. I was sure he’d
comply.

Sure enough, when we arrived at the club,
the drum
kit was on the
stage. Chad, Ethan and Travis were huddled around a table,
whispering animatedly. They all looked stressed out. I knew it was
hardly surprising, given that they were about to head off on tour
and their drummer was missing. Travis looked up as soon as we
neared the table.

“
What the hell
’s going on, man? Where the fuck is Scott?” he
asked, clearly desperate for news.

“
I’m sorry, Travis. I’ve no idea where he
is,” Lucas replied with a shrug.

Ethan threw his head back and sighed
heavily before saying, “Well that
’s it. The tour’s fucked.” Then he stood abruptly
and announced, “I’m going to get pissed. Who’s with me?”

“Sit,” commanded Lucas, his eyebrow raised as
he waited for Ethan to comply.

Ethan frowned, looked like he was going to
ignore Lucas, but then must have thought better of it. He sat down
sulkily.

“
Thank you,” Lucas said with a slight nod
of his head. “I know it looks like the tour is off because we can’t
rely on Scott turning up in time.”

My stomach clenched but, after looking at
Ethan and Travis
’ faces,
it was apparent that they didn’t know about the confrontation
between Lucas and Scott before he disappeared. I looked to Chad who
was pointedly staring at his sneakers.

“
So you have a new drummer,” continued
Lucas, enthusiastically. “A
temporary
new drummer,” he added quickly.

“What?” chorused Ethan and Travis.

“
How in fuck’s name can we have a new
drummer less than forty eight hours before we set off on tour? They
won’t have time to learn any of our material. That’s fucking
madness,” cried Travis.

“
That’s a fucking understatement,” muttered
Ethan.

Lucas remained expressionless. “What if
they already know most of your material? And they’re willing to
practice with you to learn the rest?”

Travis snickered. “I’d say the chances of
that are about the same as winning the goddamn lottery.”

“
Well, Travis my friend, it looks like
you
’ve just won the
lottery because your new drummer knows your material well and she’s
willing to learn the rest,” Lucas said, before waiting, raising his
eyebrows in anticipation of Travis figuring it out.

“So where is he?” Travis grunted
sullenly.

“
Er . . . she, Trav. He said she,” Ethan
supplied, before looking from Lucas to Chad, who was frowning at
Lucas.

When none of them made the connection, I
marched over to the stage, calling over my shoulder, “That’s right.
Let’s get started shall we?”

Silence
.

I shook my jack
et off my shoulders and adjusted the height of
Scott’s stool before sitting on it and picking up his drumsticks. I
glanced over at the group who were all standing and staring at me
as if they’d seen a ghost. I laughed and began to hit out the
rhythm of my favorite Denial song. I tried to keep my eyes on them,
to see what they made of it but I was soon lost in the rhythm and
the pure pleasure of playing.

I started when I heard the bassline start
up. I turned my head and saw that Travis was on the stage and had
joined in. I figured I couldn’t be doing that badly if he
recognized what I was attempting to play and could accompany me. It
sounded good—at least to my ears. I shot him a grateful smile and
noticed in my peripheral vision that Chad was picking up his guitar
too. I grinned wildly at him and he returned my smile.

I had to laugh when Travis shouted, “Are
you going to get your ass up here or am I going to have to
sing?
I sound better
than you anyway!”

“
Fuck off,” retorted Ethan, but he jumped
swiftly onto the stage and began to sing.

When the track finished, I couldn’t help
twirling the drumsticks between my fingers, showboating just for
the sake of it. I heard Lucas laugh and applaud with enthusiasm but
I couldn’t see him because the guys had surrounded me, bombarding
me with questions about my drumming skills.

I confessed to Lucas on the way home that
the evening’s practice had taken its toll on my arm muscles. I knew
I would ache in the morning and I’d agreed to practice with them
again the following day . . . for as long as it took for me to
learn their newer tracks. I was concerned that I wouldn’t be able
to last the full set but Lucas assured me that the playlist would
be amended, at least initially, so that they’d play more of their
slower, acoustic stuff and the demands on my body weren’t so
great.

We’d just walked back through the door of
his apartment when my cell rang.
Angel
. I heard her squeals of excitement as soon as I answered.
I held the phone away from my head and Lucas shook his head
good-naturedly. It turned out that excitement was an
understatement. Angel was ecstatic that I’d be on the tour bus with
the boys. She confessed that she’d felt a little apprehensive about
being the only female. Travis’ girlfriend, Jenny, couldn’t get time
off work to go apparently.

Angel
was determined to hear firsthand what had transpired with
Trey and insisted that she and Chad came over immediately he got
back from taking the band’s instruments home with the van he’d been
forced to hire since Scott had taken off. I hastily got Lucas’
permission—it wasn’t my home after all and I knew how much he
valued the privacy of his apartment. I managed to get her off the
phone and Lucas called down and instructed Clark to bring them up
in his private elevator when they arrived. Then he called his
favorite restaurant and arranged meals for the four of us to be
delivered later in the evening.