Between a Rock and a Hard Place (19 page)

Thank you for making the Asia tour something I’ll always remember.  Best of luck in Europe.  We’ll be there before it’s over.  Wouldn’t miss it for the world!  Love, Audra and Kira

They were the most endearing girls he’d ever met and he owed them a huge debt of gratitude.  His phone buzzed and he thought it was going to be one of them, but it was Marissa.

“¡Hola!” he cheerfully sang into the phone.

“Get Damien and Jimmy.  I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”  Her voice was curt and irritated.  There was no greeting or pleasantries, and it was unlike Marissa to be rude.

“Is something wrong?”  His merriment was quickly replaced by defensive sarcasm.

He heard her draw on a cigarette.  It was another out-of-character action on her part.

“I’m introducing the band to your new tour manager, but first we need to have a little discussion that’s not for his ears.  Just make sure Damien and Jimmy are there before I am.”

Then the line went dead.

Marissa’s face was rigid as she brushed past Angel and into the suite.  Angel was left holding the open door while she marched over to the couch where the rest of the band, plus Jessi and Alyssa, were gathered and tossed her brief case on the coffee table.  When she realized Angel didn’t follow her, she turned and scowled at him.  “Close the door.”

Angel glared back at her, annoyed at her brash attitude and wondered what caused it.  He had never seen her anything but poised and professional before.

Her eyes never left him while he walked the short distance from the doorway to the couch.  She jabbed her index finger in his direction. “I went to bat for you with Mr. Abelman.  I put my career on the line to save yours.  Do you know how hard it is for a woman to rise to the top in a male dominated industry?  I worked my ass off to prove myself worthy of Mr. Abelman’s respect.  He trusts and values my judgment.”  She placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at everyone.  “Why are you constantly trying to prove me wrong?  Mr. Abelman is not in the habit of giving second chances.  He’s a proud man with an impeccable reputation.”

Angel wasn’t sure what caused Marissa’s tirade, but it unnerved him and was cause for alarm.  He exchanged worried glances with Tommy and Jessi while he waited for Marissa to continue.

“I just got a phone call from the airline.”  Marissa made eye contact with each one of them, before her eyes rested on Angel.  “Your actions were deplorable! Do I need to remind you that you’re famous now?  Your conduct reflects on Falcon Records.  Every single passenger in the first class cabin was offended by your lewd behavior and complained to the airline.”

“
Every
passenger?”  Jimmy stuck his chest out and wore a smug grin.  “I think one girl in particular would have called to thank them and write a letter of recommendation.”

“This isn’t a joke, Jimmy!  This is serious.  You’re lucky that I was the one who booked the tickets for you and got the call because anyone else would be on the phone with Mr. Abelman right now.  I suggest you all act a little more responsibly.  And another thing.”  She retrieved a sheet of paper from her briefcase and shoved it at Angel.  “What the hell is your underwear doing on eBay?”

Angel stared down at the eBay advertisement.  There was a small photo of his and Tommy’s underwear lying in the sand on the beach in Hong Kong, and a fuzzy photo of the two of them wrapped in the blankets walking back to the hotel.

“You’re lucky your heads are covered in that photo and no one can prove it’s you.”  Marissa glared at everyone.  “You’d better be on your best behavior from now on.  I guarantee you that your tour manager isn’t going to put up with – ”

The knock on the door silenced Marissa.  She lowered her voice and leaned forward.  “Not a word of this to anyone.”  She smoothed down the front of her jacket and glided toward the door with her usual grace.

“It’s very nice to finally meet you face-to-face, Mr. Jackson.  You’re right on time.”

He was quiet for a moment and gave Marissa a brief smile while he shook her hand.  “Pleased to meet you, and call me Angus.”  He was probably expecting a stuffy, conservative business woman behind the no-nonsense voice he dealt with on the other end of the phone, not a young, attractive woman.

Marissa escorted him to where everyone was seated.  “Gentlemen, this is Angus Jackson.  He’s been with Falcon Records for a little over two years, stationed here in our London office.  He’ll be managing the European tour.  He’s a stickler for order and continuity, so adhere to the schedule and try not to give him a hard time.”

Angus Jackson was tall, in his late thirties and obviously a British national.  His accent was fluid and melodic, pleasant to the ear.  The breezy tone of his voice contradicted with his tough exterior.

Angus lifted his chin as he purposely assessed each one of them.  Not a hint of a smile or an ounce of friendliness was readable.  He could have been a guard for the Royal Palace with his stone-faced indifference.

Angel watched him closely.  Angus weaved through them, pausing every few seconds as his eye rested on something that caught his interest. He stopped at Jessi.  “So you’re the big clothing designer from New York.”

Even though his comment was more of a statement than a compliment, Jessi was flattered and flashed a dazzling smile, which Angus didn’t bother to return.  “Thank you. I just opened my own retail store last week.”

Angus continued his assessment of the band without responding to Jessi.  He took a step toward Damien and stared up at the rebellious mohawk.  Damien’s imposing glare challenged him, but Angus returned an approving nod of his head and moved on.

Angus stuck his hands in the pockets of his slacks and leisurely strolled a circle around Angel, giving him the once over.  By the tightness of his lips, Angus seemed less impressed.  “Very old school punk rock.  The Joey Ramone look is a tad bit dated, but it works.”

Apparently this new manager had plans for a makeover.  Angel didn’t know whether to be more insulted at being told his look was dated, or flattered for being compared to Joey Ramone.  He chose the latter.

A snort left Angus’ nostrils as he made his way over to Tommy.

Tommy planted his feet shoulder width apart and stuck his chest out, ready for a confrontation.

Angus Jackson cracked his first smile.  “Tommy Blade. The man with the golden hair and the golden guitar.  I’m looking forward to hearing you play. I’ve been around music my whole life and I’ve never seen nor heard anything like you.  You bring a unique sound to punk rock with those intricate guitar solos.  Who would have thought to infuse heavy metal into punk rock the way you do?”  The smile left his face.  “But why don’t you cut that bloody hair?  And a Rob Zombie T-shirt?  At least wear something that represents the punk rock genre.”

Tommy cocked his jaw and straightened his shoulders.  “My background is hard rock.  I blend it with punk rock.  That’s what makes me different.  And I’m never cutting my hair.”

“You don’t have to go as radical as Mr. Diamond’s mohawk or colored hair.”  Angus extended his arm toward Jimmy, “Have a gander at Mr. Wilder.”

Jimmy, who was bored with Angus’ critique and sat on the couch methodically tapping his foot, stood up at the mention of his name.

“Sit back down, mate.  You’re good.  The pork chop side burns are splendid. Rockabilly influenced punk rock.”  Angus turned his attention back to Tommy.  “Chop off that bloody rocker-do and blend into the image of the band, for fuck’s sake.”

Tommy gritted his teeth.  “I’m not cutting my hair.”

Angus nodded his head, at no one in particular.  “Alrighty then, we’re done for today.  Get yourselves settled in.  Do some sightseeing tomorrow and enjoy it, because the following day we have our first gig, and I want everyone at the venue at 10:00 a.m.”

“Isn’t that a little early?”  Damien asked.

“No.  I want to get a firsthand listen to Immortal Angel and we have to do a sound check.  I know young rock stars like to party, but you aren’t going to have any free time.  You’re going to be working while on tour.  Falcon Records wants to put together a second album before the tour is over.  We have studio time booked throughout Europe to coincide with your days off.”

They exchanged uneasy glances.  Touring was hard work and exhausting.  The small amount of free time was often used for luxuries, such as sleep and relaxation.  So much for Angus’ light and breezy accent.  The man seemed like he was going to be a major pain in the ass.

Chapter Seventeen

Jessi jumped out of the taxi and ran into Trafalgar Square.  When Angel caught up to her, she was in front of the massive fountain gazing up at sky.  “This is what I always dreamed about,” she said, “traveling the world, visiting foreign cities and marveling at the culture and landmarks.  I can’t wait to see priceless works of art in the National Gallery. I want all of us to walk across Abbey Road and I want to shop at Burberry and Vivienne Westwood.”

She smiled at Angel and he felt a sense of warmth in his chest as he read something in her eyes.  She walked up to him, never breaking her gaze or smile, and put her arms around his neck. “If we never met you, if you never called me that day and set up an audition for Tommy, we wouldn’t be here right now.  We wouldn’t be famous and we wouldn’t be whole.  You made Tommy happy in a way I never could and you make me happy.  I love you, Angel.”

She placed a long closed-mouth kiss on his lips.  He was about to give her a deeper kiss, but regrettably, she pulled away and flew into Tommy’s arms.  She was talking quietly, so Angel really couldn’t hear much of what she was saying, but it sounded like she was commenting on how amazing their life turned out.

Angel never realized how much she meant to him until they were separated last month.  He depended on her for so many things, but most of all it was her companionship that he missed. They shared their love of fashion, fame, arts and culture, and they shared the man they loved.  Tommy brought them together, but their relationship blossomed and flourished.  She made his life full.

Damien, Alyssa and Jimmy stepped out of a taxi to join them fifteen minutes later than expected.  Alyssa paused to look around the wide open space, not in awe like Jessi, but with mild interest.  Her long dark hair was stark black in the daylight, darker than Angel’s.  It emphasized her fair complexion and complemented her ruby lips.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asked.

Angel stumbled for an answer.  “I . . . wasn’t.”

“I can’t believe you’re making us go to a museum.  Me and Damien aren’t exactly connoisseurs of fine art.”