Every Heart Sings (Serenity Island Series) (2 page)

“Dude. We don’t do personal. We do anonymous. Banging universal party anthems.” Reed flushed beet red. “I mean—”

“Right. And maybe it’s time for us to grow up and try something different. What can they do? Boo us off the stage? I don’t think so. Trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

Sam straightened his shoulders and blew into his cupped palms like he was blowing on dice, then he grinned at Josh. “I’m in.”

Duke twirled his drumsticks thoughtfully. “I like a challenge. I’m good, too.”

Andy nodded silently, a small decisive jerk of his chin.

Only Reed held out, jaw set stubbornly. “I like the music we play. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to switch it up. Ben’s not going to be happy about it.”

“Come on, man. It’s one song. Work with me.”

Reed braced his hands on his hips and scowled at Josh a few seconds before conceding. “Okay, this one time. But if this is the direction you’re thinking of going on the next album, I’m just sayin’, dude, I’m gonna have a hard time with getting quiet and personal after jammin’ hard.”

And when Reed said jamming hard, he meant something entirely different than sawing the guitar to a hardcore rock-n-roll song. He, more than any of them, enjoyed the man-ho image they personified.

“Fair enough. Let’s see how it goes. Call it a field test.”

The crowd had waited long enough.

“Here we go.” Josh led the way back on stage. They performed the first number, an arm-waving, fist-pumping rock anthem the critics had panned as being
cheese ball, unoriginal, and too commercial
. Fortunately, fans loved it and they’d kept the entire album on the Billboard Top 200 for one-hundred-thirty-six weeks. The crowd cheered and danced through the whole number. When the band transitioned down to the slower ballad, the fans quieted, an audible sigh rippling through the arena, as if they, too, could finally breathe.

Josh settled on the stool where Tony Alexander had sat hours ago. He plucked his acoustic guitar. “This one’s for a friend of mine, Luke Alexander. Gone too soon, he’ll never be forgotten. He lives on in this song.” The melody came to him like he’d written it yesterday instead of ten years ago. He strummed the guitar, playing the chords a few moments before he launched into the lyrics . . . “
Living for tomorrow never works. Love her with abandon and no regrets.”

Josh made eye contact with individuals. Saw their response to his soft words. It’s like he connected with them personally. Like he saw into each one of their hearts. A tear or two rolled down a pretty girl’s face. The band backed him up quietly, harmonizing on the choruses, complimenting his acoustic playing where it needed, letting him play alone during the verses. Then he ended the song, on a quiet plea. “
Living for tomorrow never works. It all ends too soon. So give it all you’ve got today.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the arena. It’s as if his fans held their collective breath. Then they exploded in applause and cheers.

Josh stood and waved. Swept a hand to encompass his band members. Let them appreciate the crowd’s pleasure, then he made his way off stage.

“What the hell was that?” Ben confronted him as he walked into the wings. “What kind of fucking stunt was that? I told you not to go there. We agreed that’s not the type of music you perform.”

Josh studied him. “What’s your problem, man? They loved it. And we didn’t agree. You laid down the law. Which I still don’t buy.”

“Well you better buy it. Howard from Capital Records just called. Do you know how much money you just cost us by playing that song? It’s still under copyright. Ten grand.”

“Yeah. I wrote the song. I know. Take it out of my paycheck for this gig. No big deal.”

“You pull a stunt like that again and you’re done. Your fans paid for rock and that’s what they expect from you. Howard also said to remind you that you’re in breach of contract. Your next album was due two weeks ago. He’s giving you a two-month extension to write the songs or they’re cutting you loose.”

“Yeah and what Einstein planned for me to deliver an album during a road tour?” Wasn’t the first time Josh had questioned the decision. It’s just the first time he’d said it out loud.

Ben glared at him. “It was me. And you’d have it done if you’d actually spent your bus time writing music instead of boozing and banging anything that walks.”

Josh brushed past Ben to see Tony standing there, hands in his pockets, trying not to seem like he’d heard Ben’s toxic words. “Nice. Not good to air our laundry in front of the fans, Ben.”

They both knew that wasn’t what Josh had been doing on the bus rides. For the most part, he’d been sleeping because they only traveled after performances in the middle of the night to get to the next venue. He’d been on the road three-hundred-and-fifty days out of three-sixty-five. He was exhausted.

But Tony didn’t know that.

Now he’d assume the worst.

Not that one teenager’s opinion of him mattered all that much in the long run, but for some reason it bothered Josh because Tony was impressionable and if the kid was anything like him when he’d been that age, he idolized other musicians.

He didn’t want Tony to learn this lesson. Not from him. That’s not the kind of influence he wanted to have. “Sorry, kid. Give me ten minutes and I’ll take you to the bus station. Okay?”

“No worries. I’m in no rush.”

“Why don’t you hold this for me while you wait?” Josh handed Tony his acoustic guitar.

“Really?” The wistfulness and yearning in the kid’s voice gripped Josh around the throat like a too-tight necktie.

“Yeah, it’s okay. Pick around. See what you come up with. I’ll be back after a quick shower.”

The kid dropped to the floor and propped himself against the back of the brick wall. Lost immediately in the music, he’d already started strumming the strings, finding notes and chords of one of the more obscure singles Nicodemus had released a few years ago.

Josh understood the kid. Music had kept him alive at sixteen, that, and his grandfather. He rubbed the spot over his heart that ached. Shit. There was no going back there. He’d moved on from that eighteen-year-old attitude-ridden kid long ago, probably about the same time his grandfather closed the door on their relationship for good.

But, maybe, just maybe, he could help others like Tony. Maybe. If he could find his muse again. And suddenly, he felt more hopeful about the direction of his career and songwriting than he had in the whole last year. That couldn’t be all bad. Could it?

“Hey, you ready to go?” Josh asked the kid.

Tony nodded and stood. Tony placed the slim-line acoustic guitar inside the lined case, stroking the neck one final time before Josh closed the lid and snapped the buckles shut.

“Your mom knows how late it’ll be when you arrive home, right?”

Tony looked at his feet and gave a slight bob. “Yeah, she knows. She’s not happy about it. I didn’t ask. I kinda just let her think I was helping my aunt out at her café. So she’s pissed at me. She gets all excited. I told her I was okay and I’d be fine.”

“I know. Moms are kind of crazy like that. My mom always told me, I didn’t raise you for eighteen years for you to go off and get yourself killed.” Josh laughed. “Let’s make sure you catch the next bus to—”

“Serenity. It’s off the coast of Wilmington.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It’s not. It’s dead and dying more every single day. My aunt’s café won’t last the season. She’s trying to keep it running, but she’s got it up for sale.”

“Too bad. Lots of people could use a place like that these days. Quiet. Away from the hustle and bustle.”

They walked out the back entrance of the arena to the private parking area for staff and VIP members. In every venue, the band parked the bus at a hotel and took rented cars or limos to the arena or stage. It cut down on the paparazzi finding them. Or the paps, as they all liked to call them.

He had his car towed in a special trailer behind the tour buses for nights like tonight. Parked out of sight, the car was a midnight blue Lamborghini with a phoenix matching his tattoo custom painted on either side on the door panel. Thus, the name of their current tour—Dark Rider.

“Woo-whee.” Tony whistled. “No way. This is your car?” His mouth hung open and his eyes were bugging out.

Josh smiled. “Yeah, she’s mine. She’s a beaut, isn’t she?”

“Is this the Dark Rider?” the kid whispered.

“Absolutely.” Josh pushed the door lock on his key fob and the doors lifted. “Get in.”

Tony got in the passenger seat and fastened his seatbelt while Josh stowed his two guitars in the customized storage compartment down the center between the two bucket seats. He slipped into the driver’s seat and started the car.

Josh tapped the built-in GPS to find the bus station. Ten minutes away. He pulled out into traffic. “So if you don’t mind me asking, how did your dad die?”

“Cancer. He was sick for a long time. It was a gradual thing. At the end he was in hospice. But he didn’t have insurance, you know, being an independent musician.”

“No, I don’t imagine he did.” Josh was sorry he hadn’t kept track of Luke. He could have helped him out. Done something. Anything.

“We had to sell our house to pay the medical bills. Mom’s a nurse. She tries. But it wasn’t enough. So we’re living with my aunt now.”

“Do you get to play much?”

Tony looked out the window. He shrugged one shoulder. “Nah. Not much.”

“Your dad had a nice Ibanez and Les Paul.”

“Yeah. They were sweet.” Tony cleared his throat, his words sounded like they hurt to say. “We had to sell them, too. There’s nothing left of dad’s stuff.”

“What about the royalties on his music? The song you played tonight and the one I sang during my performance? I wrote it for him.”

“Donno.”

“Well, it just cost me ten grand tonight when I played it on stage. Ben was giving me hell about it. That money should be coming to you and your mom. I’m sure it will go viral after tonight. You’ll get a nice bump.”

Tony pursed his lips in a tight line and gave a slight tilt to his chin. “Thanks.”

They didn’t say much else until Josh pulled into the bus station and they both got out of the car. “You got a bus ticket home?”

The kid kicked at a loose piece of gravel on the pavement. He pulled a paper printout from his hoodie pocket. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.” He smiled at Josh. “Thanks for the ride. It was really cool. And for letting me play your guitar.”

Josh shook his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Tony. Your dad was a great guy. I really liked him a lot. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks for saying so. I appreciate it. I’ll see you around.” The kid raised his hand in salute and turned to enter the bus terminal.

“Hey, Tony. Wait a sec.”

Josh ducked into his car and pulled out the guitar case holding the acoustic. He pressed it into Tony’s hands. “Here. I want you to have this. Like I said, you’ve got mad skills. I’d hate to think they’ll go to waste this summer on that do-nothing-island.” He laughed and let go of the guitar once he knew the kid wouldn’t let it drop out of shock. “I know your dad would want you to play.”

Tony stood speechless. His chin trembled. He bit the inside of his cheek and blinked several times. Then he sucked in some air. “Cool. Yeah. Thanks, man. I’ll take real good care of it, I promise.”

“I know you will. Make your dad proud, Tony.” With that, Josh crawled into his car and headed back to the hotel.

Half an hour later, Josh rode the elevator up to the nineteenth floor of the Charlotte Marriott, down the street from the Time Warner Cable Arena.

The band had reserved the suites on the top floor.

He carried the overnight duffle he’d grabbed from the bus and his guitar. All he wanted to do was swig a beer and hit the hay. Maybe sleep on a soft bed for one night before he figured out how he was going to pound out an album in the next few months with a cast of thousands constantly around him.

The elevator chimed and the doors opened. Blaring music spilled into the hallway from the open suite. A girl wearing a leather bustier, a short mini-skirt, and knee-high boots was pushed up against the wall, with Reed’s hands under the bustier and his tongue down her throat. Sam stumbled out of the suite door, an almost empty bottle of Jack dangling from his fingers. “Jooosshh. Dude. ’Bout time. Ben’s got some good shit in there. Get your ass inside. Cute redhead waiting for you, too.”

How was he supposed to produce the songs he needed for a new album if he was exhausted, drunk, high, or sexed out of his mind? Not tonight. Not after dealing with Tony. He’d just experienced a real-life situation that had grounded him, reminded him what life was like for a kid like Tony whose father had died, like the kid Josh had been so many years ago. No, he couldn’t deal with this.

Not one more night. He needed quiet. A place to hide out.

A haven. Serenity.

He pushed the elevator close-door button.

“Hey. Where you going?” Sam yelled.

“Tell Ben I’ll call him. I need a little peace and quiet. I’m off to write that album. I’ll be in touch when I get where I’m going.”

“Dude, then how will you know when you get there?”

“Sam, my man, I’ll know I’m there when I find Serenity.”

By the spaced out grin on Sam’s face, he had no clue what Josh meant. But it didn’t matter, because Josh knew where he was going for the first time in a long time. And, even better, he was going alone.

The elevator door closed.

Josh couldn’t have been happier.