On the Road: (Vagabonds Book 2) (New Adult Rock Star Romance) (9 page)

Chapter Fourteen

THE RADIO STATION was underwhelming.  It was smaller than I’d expected, especially since it was billed as the biggest rock station in hundreds of miles.  I shouldn’t have judged them, though, because—while we were waiting to go into the studio area—we were sitting in a waiting area that was piping the show through speakers and not only did they play good music, but the DJ was entertaining and intelligent.

The girls were quiet as we waited.  Now, I wasn’t stupid.  I didn’t think it was because they were silently reflecting upon what they wanted to talk about.  No…I knew they were all pissed off at one another.  Peter and Andrew stood and paced, looking at various posters and other memorabilia on the wall, but they too were mute.  I suspected that my angry cohorts would choose to not participate in the interview, where they might take their bitterness out on the DJ.

That should have been my
hope
, but it was certainly not reality.

When we were finally led into the studio, the DJ smiled and took off his headphones.  “Hey, ladies.  My name’s Steve, but I’m known as Rockin’ Russ on the air.  Do you want me to show you a list of the prefab questions or do you just wanna wing it?”

We all looked at each other.  I didn’t realize a preview of the questions was a possibility.  No one jumped at the chance, so I said, “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind looking it over.”

He nodded and picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to me.  He was playing an old Asking Alexandria song, and I said, “Great tune.”

He gave me half a grin and nodded again.  Ah, a man of few words.

I glanced down at the questions.  There were tons, and that made me think that we were either going to be there forever (not likely, considering we had a show that evening) or he wasn’t going to ask them all.  It started out with questions like
Tell me what got you first interested in music
and
How old are you girls
really
?
 
How did you first meet each other?  We hear Liz writes most of the music and lyrics.  Is that true?  Tell me about your writing process.

They all seemed pretty standard and straightforward.  I had no idea he had a strong knack for improvising and changing gears when he needed to.

So, as the song got near the end, he arranged a few big mikes in key points among the five of us and told us to speak clearly into one of them when we would answer questions.  Once the song was over, he started talking into his mike, launching into an introduction about my band.  “Hi, gang.  Rockin’ Russ is on the air, and I have here in the studio today the five young ladies that make up the rock band the Vagabonds.  The first thing I’m struck by is how young they look.”  He glanced at us and grinned.  “No offense, ladies.”  I shrugged but my silent partners—especially Liz, Barbie, and Vicki—kept their lips pursed.  All of them looked skeptical.  “Why don’t we start there?  Just how old are you all?”

Barbie rolled her eyes.  Her mood was showing.  “Old enough to not have to answer that question.”

Liz was a tad more professional but no happier to have that be the first question.  “Does it matter?  Aren’t we viable musicians, no matter what our age?”

Russ shook his head.  He kept a calm demeanor but I wondered how long he’d be able to keep his cool when dealing with my group.  He said, “Ah, Liz.  You mind if I call you Liz?”  He didn’t wait for her to answer.  “You have hit the nail on the head.  I think it makes your music even more impressive.  How many artists struggle and write and perfect their craft before they are what we consider good—or even great?  Success doesn’t usually happen overnight and the Mozarts of our world are few and far between.  So, let me tell you, it impresses the hell out of me that you girls aren’t old enough to vote but are rockin’ with the big boys.  You don’t want to answer the question?  Fine.  But I think your audience respects that you
are
young but writing and playing music we hear from bands twice your age.”

Okay, so by that point, I felt like he was just trying to smooth some feathers in the group.  Did I think we kicked ass?  Yes.  Did I think we were “viable,” to use Liz’s word, and worthy of being heard?  Hell, yes.  Did I think we were as good as some of my favorites, both old and new?  When I thought of some of my all-time favorite guitarists, like Hendrix, guys who played and wrote, like Cobain, and then bands who had in the past rocked it consistently (like Rage Against the Machine)…my answer was no.  No, we were not as good.  We were definitely better than all the bubblegum pop out there and I also thought we were equal to a lot of rock on the airwaves, but we were not and should not be considered great.  We had a long way to go before that.  I could see our shortcomings.  I wasn’t so deluded that I couldn’t.  But I could also see our potential.  If he had framed the question that way, I would have agreed.

However…I could see us not moving past this goddamned question and getting to more important stuff.  The man wanted an answer.  “I’m seventeen.”  There.  Simple.  Direct and to the point.  Fucking prima donnas.

He looked at me and smiled.  “Kyle, right?”  I nodded.  “Okay, folks, if you haven’t listened to the Vagabonds yet, let me play a little snippet—a solo from their first single ‘Dream World’.”  The man was prepared.  He clicked a button on his keyboard and the solo—the one CJ helped me craft during our first few moments together—played, building from a slow burn to the flaming crescendo and screaming final note before bleeding into the final chorus of the song.

It still gave me chills, and I was the one who’d written and played the damn thing.

The look on his face as he faded the music and grinned at me told me all I needed to know.  This guy was a fan.  Rock on.  He wanted to promote us?  I was completely on board.  “Kyle, you wrote this solo, right?”

“Yep.”  After a second’s pause, I added, “With some inspirational help from CJ Slavin.”

Russ raised his eyebrows.  “As in the band Death Crunch?”

I nodded.  “Yeah.”  I grinned.  “I call him
Siege
.”

“
Siege?
  I like that.  So…you say he helped you.  Helped you
how
?”

“He kind of helped me think outside the box.  You know…kind of reimagine the solo I had and just kind of…let my soul take over.”

He laughed.  “Only an artist would answer a question that way.  But back to my original point.  You girls are playing at a level far beyond your years.  There are grown men in their forties who would
kill
to play like that.”

It was like I was having my own conversation with the guy.  “Well, they won’t get there by just dreaming, Russ.  It’s hard work, man.  If you don’t work for it, you won’t get it.”

“Ah.  Tell me more about that.”

“I was twelve when I first held a guitar, and it was a passion for me.  I learned everything I could about playing.  My mom is a music teacher, so she taught me the basics—you know, chords, sight reading music, and stuff—but I took off from there.  I’d listen to a song by one of my favorite bands and then try to duplicate it.  I couldn’t get enough.  I devoured it, and if—”

“Let’s talk about that,” the DJ said, interrupting where I was going.  I wanted to preach to wannabes—if you want to be great, you have to practice.  You can’t do a half-assed job and expect to be loved and recognized.  There’s no easy street to fame…not that I’d know.  I mean, sure, I’d worked my ass off to be a great guitar player, but I also was no idiot.  I knew I’d gotten lucky.  Most guys were in three or four bands before finding the right magical combination and then finding a label.  I’d never asked, but I suspected Liz had tracked Peter down and hired him, although I’d never know for certain.  I only knew that my dedication and talent were only a small part of it.  Luck had played into the formula as well…so maybe it was a good thing Russ had cut me off.  “Who are your idols?”

I grinned.  That was an easy question.  “Oh, God, I have so many.  My main idols, though, are some of the greats, guys like Randy Rhoads, Kirk Cobain, Dimebag—”

“Only the dead guys.  You heading that way, Kyle?”  I laughed and then he turned his attention to Liz.  “What about you, Liz?  Who are some of your idols?”

I should have paid more attention to the bands and artists she named as influences, because Liz and I were so different musically, and, even though I think it contributed to a unique sound, I suspected it would make things more difficult down the line when we needed to work on our second album, when Liz wouldn’t be the main writer in our group.  But I was off in dreamland, imagining that we would someday be one of the greats.  We were already well on our way.

I
did
catch that she loved Paramore.  In fact, she said they were her main influence.

Then Barbie took over, bragging about how great she was and what an important role she had in the band.  I knew better.  Sure, she had charisma out the ass and charmed the hell out of the audience and, honestly, she had a great voice.  She sounded great with the music.  But the girl didn’t write any lyrics or music, and she caused more than her fair share of drama.  Sometimes, I felt like what she did contribute to the band wasn’t worth the cost.

I’ll give Russ credit, though.  He made sure he asked us all a question or two.

About fifteen minutes in, he took a commercial break and asked how we were all doing.  He offered to get us some water and called someone.  A twenty-something girl with short dark hair and an even shorter skirt walked in with bottles of water that she passed out to us.  Her makeup was dark around the eyes, and she had snakebite piercings on her lower lip.  Liz didn’t take her eyes off her, and I had no idea at the time that it would drive the next round of questions.

Russ came back and announced that he was going to play “Dream World” before continuing the interview.  He excused himself for a moment and left, probably to go pee.  Kelly was chattering, telling us that she thought this interview would only serve to make us even more popular and Vicki looked nervous.  She was biting on her already too short nails, managing a weak smile for me when I looked at her.

She was jonesing.

If she could just keep it together, I’d be happy.

“Dream World” ended and Russ spoke into his microphone.  “That was ‘Dream World’ by the Vagabonds, the first single off their debut self-titled album, and I’ve got these five dreamy ladies in my studio right now.  For those of you who just tuned in, we’ve been talking about how they’ve taken the rock world by storm.  They’re with me for a little longer, and I’m going to ask them a few more questions, but then I’m going to open up the rock lines and take a few questions from all of you.  You can also hit me up on Facebook and Twitter.  I’ll take a couple questions there as well.”

He turned to us before resuming.  “So…rumor has it that one of you goes by a stage name, and I’ve also heard about a nickname—
Sticky Vicki
.”  He looked at my edgy friend and asked, “How’d you get that name, Vicki?  Or is it something you can talk about on the air?”

His smile charmed her into forcing a smile back.  “I dunno.  They just started calling me that.  You know—‘Vicki’s the girl with the sticks’ soon became ‘Sticky Vicki’.”

Barbie and her goddamned big mouth just couldn’t stand not being the center of attention.  Her voice was louder than usual when she piped in.  “Oh, that’s not the
only
reason, Vicki.”  Vicki just glared at her, but her mouth remained shut.

Russ, though—well, he had an audience to appeal to.  “Really?  Do tell, Barbie.”

A coy smile slowly appeared on Barbie’s face.  “Well, Kyle will be the first to tell you that Vicki’s one who constantly manages to get herself in and out of sticky situations faster than I can rip off my undies.”

Russ raised his eyebrows, as if surprised but thrilled that Barbie would be appealing to his listeners’ baser instincts.  “Interesting.”

Barbie’s voice got lower, and she intentionally made it sound huskier, sexier.  “There’s one other reason, Russ, but I’m not gonna tell you because…it’s private.”  She licked her lips and stared at his before she bit down on her own lower lip.

It was affecting him.  No surprise, really.  Barbie could wrap men around her fingers faster than I could rip through a solo.  He blinked, forced a grin, and inhaled deeply before saying, “I think it got hotter in here.”  He mimicked pulling his collar away from his neck as if to cool off.  Barbie laughed and then he looked at her again, and I could see a challenge in his eyes.  “I’ve heard another rumor, and I’m asking you all if it’s true.  There’s talk floating around that you’re all lesbians.”

I started laughing.  Yeah, there’d been some experimentation and there was at least one person whose sexual orientation was likely gay, but the odds of us all being homosexual was unlikely, and that should have been obvious even to the dullest person in his audience.  I glanced over at the two girls who’d just ended their relationship again.  Liz looked pissed and Barbie’s eyes grew wide.  Whether her response was positive or negative, I couldn’t tell.  Russ continued.  “But I’ve especially heard that Liz and Barbie are the leaders of the pack.  Can you confirm this?”

Liz stood up.  “Seriously?  I didn’t come here to discuss sex.  Why can’t you just ask us questions about our fucking music?”