The Forbidden Beat (A Stepbrother Romance) (8 page)

"Come on, Vince. It's rock and roll," I said.
"You had groupies."

"I also had business sense," Vince said. "Why
did you think we had so many groupies? It was the scene. Scene's change."

Devlin clapped Vince on the arm. "Maybe give the kid a
break, Vince. You're forgetting touring is a lot of pressure."

Vince shook Devlin's arm off. "I think he needs to
learn how to handle it."

"So you're saying the groupies were for show?"
Presley asked, her eyes wide, treating the revelation like Christmas.

"I don't know how much was for show," Devlin said,
squinting his eyes at Vince. "But I remember pulling out head out of a few
toilets back it the day."

Vince sighed. "The point is; Rogue Nation needs to do
something."

"So what do you suggest?" Rafe snapped. "You
come in here with all your criticisms. How about giving us a solution?"

Vince turned to Rafe. "Why do you think Satan's Sisters
is getting buzz?"  

Rafe shrugged. "Because they're hot chicks?"

"Because we're new," Jett added her two cents.

"Because you're good," Vince corrected her.
"You play like a team, your melodies are solid, and you can read the
audience."

"What do you mean, read the audience?" Rafe asked.

"They know what the audience wants and gives it to
them," Vince said. "Like trotting out that old war horse Rhiannon but
pushing its tempo up to speed metal? It was exactly what the crowd
wanted."

"Nik's the one reading the audience," Jett said.
"The tempo change was her call."

"So Nik's got a knack for it," Vince said. "Then
let her read Rogue's. She's part of the band, boys. Use her."

Rafe swore. "She's been with the band for like five
days."

"I don't give a shit if she's been with the band five
minutes," Vince barked. "While you and your brother are out chasing
pussy and good times, she's the one taking this band seriously."

Rafe slumped against the back wall of the stage and sulked.

"We do Ruined Nik's way," Dion croaked from his
fetal position on the floor.

"What did you say?" I asked, rubbing my ear. Did I
hear him correctly?

He cleared his throat and spoke a little louder. "We do
Ruined your way, your tempo."

 "The audience is going to hate it," Rafe argued.

"So let them," Dion said, inching himself up to a
sitting position. "If they hate it, we know Nik's full of shit."

My body broke out into a nervous sweat.

"What if they love it?" Jett challenged, shooting
me a smirk.

"If they love it, then Nik deserves to be in this
band," Dion admitted. "Can we go now Devlin?"

Devlin took Dion by the arm held onto him while Dion climbed
his way to his feet. "Vince, I gotta take the kid to the doc, get an IV of
fluids going, sober him up for tonight."

"Do what you need to do to make sure this band gets on
stage tonight," Vince said. He turned on his heel and walked out of the
club.

Devlin held Dion up on one side, and Rafe grabbed him from
the other. The three staggered after Vince.

Jett let out a low whistle. "Guess the heat's on,
Nik."

"You got this," Presley said, stomping her way
backstage. Jett nipped at her heels.

I just sat behind my drums, excitement mixed with dread.
Here was my shot for Dion to accept me. But messing with Ruined was a huge
gamble. Was it worth the risk?

"So, is it cool if I go?"

I jumped at voice and looked up. The sound guy stood and
pulled on his jacket. I'd forgotten he was here. So did everyone else.

"Yeah, I think so," I said, slumping further
behind my drum kit. "Sound check's over."

"For what it's worth, I liked the song," he said.
"It sounded fierce at the slower tempo."

I nodded at him. "Thanks. You think the fans will like
it?"

He shrugged. "Fans are weird. Maybe they'll surprise
you."

He saluted me and then walked out of the venue.

"I hope you're right," I whispered.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Dion should go on a pre-show bender every day," I
mumbled to myself as we wrapped up our final song. Post IV drip and anti-nausea
meds, and our set was on point. The crowd practically tossed themselves at his
feet, scantily-clad women taking up the entire front row. Vince stood at the
side of the stage, looking at Dion with a measure of pride. Dion beamed at his
dad. They had a heart-to-heart at the doctor's office during the IV drip procedure.

The crowd was still revved up from the set and Dion didn't
want to get off the stage. He turned to me and Rafe. "We can't walk off
yet," he called over the crowd. "One more song."

"What do you want to play?" Rafe yelled.

"Ruined," Dion said.

"I thought we agreed to keep it off the set list,"
Rafe argued.

Clearly, the weren't cowed by Vince's threats at all.

"What the hell," I yelled over the crowd.
"You guys actually went out of your way to slash it from the set
list?"

Dion smiled at me. "And I want to play Ruined Nik's
way."

"Nik's way?" Rafe asked. He looked like he was
ready to explode.

"And acoustic," he said, swapping out his electric
guitar for his Brock Model OM acoustic. It was a sexy guitar. "You lead us
in, Nik."

"Nikki leads in? Really?" Rafe asked.

Dion flashed me a sexy grin. "And take it easy on me,
I've never done this before."

My heart raced at his approval. I launched into the new beat
and Dion picked it up easily on his guitar. The song was stunning, his smooth
voice hit at all the right notes. Unlike anything Rogue Nation had ever played,
it brought the crowd to its knees. One of the "front row hos" removed
her bra and tossed it at him.

I wiped down my face with my hand towel and, after
acknowledging the audience with a wave and a bow, walked off stage. Rafe
followed behind me with Dion last to leave the stage.

"Good job on Ruined," Rafe admitted as we walked.
"That shit was epic."

I started to say thanks but he disappeared into a crush of
backstage revelers. The greenroom was overrun with people. The smell of hot
food wafted from the room, and my stomach growled. But there was no way of
reaching it. I opted for an ice cold bottle of water from a cooler installed
outside the door.

Vince sidled up to me and wrapped his arm around my
shoulders. "Nicely done, Nik. That was exactly what the crowd
wanted." I took in his compliment and smiled.

"So, what is all this?" I asked, cracking open the
water.

"Grimm through that you guys needed a little
pick-me-up."

"Grimm just decided to throw us an impromptu party in
Seattle?"

"I'm not going to bullshit you, Nik," Vince said.

I chugged down some water. "I appreciate that."

"This is really for the Sisters, to keep you three
happy while you are on a Grimm tour. He knows that the boys give you a hard
time. He's nervous with SubPop is sniffing around."

"There they are!" Presley's voice carried over the
sounds of the party. She shoved her way through the crowd, pulling Grimm's
A&R guy behind her. Even in jeans and an overpriced t-shirt, he still
looked constipated.

Vince nodded at the guy. "Eric."

"The song, Ruined, it's all anyone is talking about
right now," Eric said, pulling out his buzzing Blackberry. "I think
that song will absolutely chart. I just texted Grimm about it, and he wants it
recorded immediately."

"But we're on tour," I said.

"What's the next stop?" Vince asked.

"Spokane," Presley said, wrinkling her nose at the
city.

"That's good. We can record at Amplified Wax. It's a
good studio," Vince said. "What producer does Grimm want on
this?"

Eric glanced at his Blackberry. "You."

"Me?" Vince said. "I haven't produced any of
Rogue Nation's music."

"He wants you," Eric said. "Said Anthem's
albums were always strongest when you produced them. He thinks you can turn
this song into number one."

Presley squeezed Vince's arm and beamed. "He's
right."

"I appreciate everyone's confidence," he said.
"But I think they'd be safer with one of those hit factory
producers."

"Stop the faux modesty!" Presley said with a
laugh. She leaned into him. "You've got this."

"Dion and I will butt heads the whole time," he
said.

"Not if he's butting heads with me," I grumbled.

"I hate to agree with her but..." Eric said.

I rolled my eyes. "You know, I just want to get out of
these sweaty clothes. Please tell me the dressing room is clear."

"Jett was in there reading," Presley said.
"So you know there's no partying happening in there."

Eric and Vince were already plotting the single release so I
headed to the dressing room. I shut the door to the outside party, and enjoyed
the silence of an empty room. I made my way over to my tiny corner of the
dressing room. Presley took up most of the makeup table, her products sorted in
orderly drugstore groupings. I dug through my duffle bag for a clean top and
pair of jeans. Only after I pulled them out and dropped them on my little
clearing on the table did I notice a piece of paper with my name on it.

I unfolded the note and as I read the words, I felt the
blood rush from my head. Woozy, I fell into the chair behind me.

Stop ruining Rogue Nation. Last warning bitch. Then you die.

"What the hell?" I muttered, reading the words
again. I took a deep breath, an attempt to steady my racing heart.

"Nik?" Jett called, opening the door. The sound of
the crowd spilled into the quiet room.

I wiped at my eyes. "What's up?"

"You okay?" she asked, walked toward me.

"Fine," I said.

She snatched the paper out of my hands and read it.
"Shit. We got to tell Vince. And Devlin."

I shook my head. "It's no big deal, really."

"You were threatened," Jett argued. "That is
a really big deal."

"Not really, Jett. It's just Dion and Rafe screwing
with me."

"Those boys may be a lot of things," Jett said,
shaking her head. "But something like this? I don't buy that."

"Dion's wanted me out since the beginning," I
argued. "He's just trying to scare me."

Jett eyed me. "You really think so?"

"Who the hell does this, Jett?" I continued.
"It's just a band. It's just music."

"There are some messed up people out there, Nik,"
Jett said.

"No one more messed up than the Davis family," I
said. "Believe me, this has got Dion's name written all over it."

"You sure about this?" Jett asked. She didn't look
convinced. "I mean, unhinged people target celebrities all the time.

I laughed. "Celebrity? Now you sound like Presley. I am
the furthest thing from a celebrity."

"Satan's Sisters profile is rising," Jett countered.
"Rogue Nation is on the cusp of something. You have to admit this."

"Yes, but celebrity? None of us are keeping up the
Kardashians here."

She giggled. "You're right. That was a very Presley
thing if me to say," she giggled. "But for real, are you sure it's
nothing to worry about?"

 "Positive," I said. "Dion's getting his
rocks off with this. No idea why, but that's all it is."

There was a knock on the door. Presley poked her head in.
"Hey, someone out here wants to see you, Nik."

"I'll be out in a second. I still need to change,"
I said. "Who is it?"

Presley came in and shut the door behind her. "That
cute doctor guy—"

"Pre-med," Jett corrected her.

Presley rolled her eyes. "Pre-med. Whatever. He was at
the gig tonight too."

"He really is a super fan," Jett said.

"Maybe he's got a super crush on some cute little
drummer," Presley razzed.

"Shut up," I said, throwing my sweat soaked
t-shirt at her. She squealed in horror and jumped back. I pulled on a new
t-shirt and felt the waist band of my jeans. It was still damp, but not
completely soaked. I decided to leave them on.

"You aren't changing your pants?" she asked.

"I really hate having an audience," I said.

"You need a wax or something?" she tossed off.

"Presley!" Jett yelled.

"What?" Presley said.

"That's so personal," Jett said. "Like
invasively so."

"Please," Presley said. "If Nik's gonna
getting lucky, she needs to think about these things."

"No, I do not need a wax," I barked back at her.
"Honestly, sometimes having sisters is the worst. Brothers would never ask
that question."

Presley raised an eyebrow. "No? Let's call in Rafe and
Dion and see?"

I turned my back on them so they didn't notice my face flare
red. Instead, I unbuttoned my jeans and kicked myself out of them. I tugged on
a clean pair and turned to face my sisters, giving Presley a dirty look.

"Maybe you should put the dirty ones back on?"
Presley offered.

"What's wrong with these?" I snapped.

"They're super baggy," she said. "You have
like zero ass in those."

"They're comfortable," I said, pulling a studded
belt through the belt hooks and securing it around my hips.

Presley rolled her eyes. "Would you at least not wear
that baggy-ass t-shirt too?"

I looked to Jett for moral support but she just shrugged.
"I agree with Presley. You look like you're going to a rap concert circa
1992 with the baggy clothes."

Presley rifled through her trunk and pulled out a top
fashioned from two old concert t-shirts. It was skin tight and low cut.
"Here, this is perfect," she said, holding it up to me.

I eyed it. "Can I even wear a bra with this
thing?"

"I don't," she said.

"You don't need to," I sighed, tossing it aside.
My C cup was just big enough to be uncomfortable braless.

"If I had boobs like that, I'd be sticking them out
every chance I got," she said with a jealous sigh.

"Please, Presley, you stick you're boobs out
anyway," Jett teased.

Presley giggled. "You're wearing a demi-cup, you should
be fine."

 I left my bra on and pulled the shirt over my head. With a
strategic pull and tuck, the bra was hidden.

Presley surveyed me. "That's way better. Now you can
get out there and charm that handsome doctor!"

I snorted. "I don't charm guys, Pres. You do."

"You should tell him about this note," Jett said,
her eyes had a devious sparkle to them. "Boys love a good damsel in
distress."

"What note?" Presley asked, concern creeping over
her face.

"It's nothing. Just Dion being Dion," I said.
"And he's the one I should have a word with."

I snatched up the threatening note from the dressing room
table and crushed it in my hand before stalking out into the party. I saw Dion
across the room, holding court with five of the "front row hoes." I
stalked towards him.

Brian stepped into my path. I stopped short to keep from careening
into him.

"Hey, Nikki," he said. "Excellent show
tonight. Really great."

"Thanks, Brian," I said, staring past him to Dion,
who draped his arm around three of the girls at once.

"What happened to Ruined though?" Brian continued.
"I mean, as a slow song?"

"You didn't like it?" I asked, one eye still on
Dion.

"Ruined was kind of ruined," he said, repeating
Dion's words.

I glared at him. "I think it worked."

"Well, I mean, sure," he backtracked. "I
guess the girls in the audience liked it. If that's what the band's going for
now."

I squeezed the crumpled up note in my palm and held back the
tongue lashing I wanted to give him. "And if it is?"

He clenched his jaw and shoved his hands into his back
pocket. "Nothing wrong with expanding the audience. Just don't forget the
true fans. You know, the ones who were there from the start. I hate it when
bands do that."

I took a step back from him. "No chance of that. Rogue
Nation appreciates the fans that got them here."

His face relaxed. "Good."

I glanced over at Dion again. His head was thrown back, in
the middle of a laugh. Two more women joined the group and they were in the
middle of a deep kiss. Dion looked like the cat that swallowed a canary.
"Let me talk to Dion about that. Right. Now."

I pushed past Brian and headed straight for Dion.

"Which of you girls wants to play out all of my
fantasies?" I heard him say as I marched up to him. He called out over the
girls' raised voices. "No need to argue, ladies. My favorite fantasy
includes all five of you." They cooed appreciatively.

"I need to talk to you," I said, throwing the
crumpled note at him. It bounced off his chest and landed on the floor. “Like
spray painting this shit on the bus wasn't enough. You have to go leave these
notes in my dressing room now?"

"Whoa, steady there killer," Dion smirked.
"What the hell are you talking about?"