The Fire Walker
Copyright © 2013 Nicole R. Taylor
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All song titles, song lyrics, products and band names mentioned in this book are the property of the sole copyright owners.
Cover Design: © Nicole R. Taylor // Paper and Sage Designs
Contents
Other Books by Nicole R. Taylor
Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your heart or burn your house down, you can never tell.
- Joan Crawford
"I swear to god, Dee if you don't hurry the hell up..."
"Take a chill pill, Zoe," I said, tuning the last string on my guitar. "Don't worry your pretty little head over it."
"I wanna get this done today, if you don't mind." She rolled her eyes at me, flipping her long brown hair over her shoulder.
Zoe Granger, aka Hot Legs, was my best friend. She was my family and the singer and guitarist in our band, The Devil's Tattoo. The band I started for her.
I know what people think when they see us hang out. We're so close it looks like we're
together
together, but it couldn't be further from the truth. She's my sister from another mister. She'd go to hell and back for me and I'd do the same. In fact, I'd already done just that.
When her life fell to pieces I was there for her. Start to finish. I didn't regret it, not for one second. When I said I started this band for her, I did, but it became more than that. We had added another three people to our extended family. Frank was on drums, Chris played bass and Simone was our manager. They were as much a part of this as Zoe and I.
"It'll get done," I said with a chuckle. It had become a running joke with the guys about how long it took me to tune my guitar. What could I say? I was a perfectionist.
We were recording the last song of our full length debut album. Well, it wasn't our debut, but it would be our American one, complete with four new songs and re-recording and mastering of our original ten. Much to our surprise, we'd been asked to do it in Los Angeles. A world away from our base in Melbourne, Australia, and today
was
going to be the last day. That was if we could get these last guitar parts down before the clock ticked over midnight.
"Will is coming in tomorrow and I don't want to make him sit in here watching you tune your guitar," Zoe huffed.
Will Strickland was the bass player in The Stabs, the band we toured with last year, and her boyfriend. They were so in love it made me sick, but I'd never seen her happier. I only wished I'd be that lucky someday. Will had told me later on that when he saw her, he knew. It was a nice notion, but I reckon it doesn't work that way for everyone.
Catching Zoe's eye, I gave her a wink and slid my fingers across the strings. "See? Perfect."
Slapping me on the arm with a grin, she pushed out of the booth and joined Chris, Frank and the sound tech by the board. Sliding the oversized headphones over my ears, I shut out all the outside noise and held a thumb up to signal I was ready. As the intro of the song that we were finishing up started, I closed my eyes and just felt it out. I knew this stuff back to front. I lived it and I breathed it. I didn't need a score to follow, it just came to me. Zoe had tried to teach me how to read music, but it just wasn't in me. The structure of lines and notes and time signatures just took out the magic and spontaneity. I liked to live on the edge.
The Devil's Tattoo was all about straight up rock'n'roll. Catchy riffs, complicated solos, moody lyrics, distortion, rawness. Playing guitar was the best thing in the world and to do it with such an awesome group of people and with such a challenging line up of songs, well it took the cake. I was bloody happy to tell you the truth. For once in my life I was content to leave things just as they were.
The song I was currently playing through was called
Red Heart
. It was one of my finer moments and I hoped this one would be the single. It had a slow, moody start, but then the guitars cranked and it was off the charts. Zoe did the vocals and damn… she had lungs alright. I couldn't wait to play this one live, it'd go off. I wished I could go off right now, but I was in a tiny sound booth and had to get this right.
We'd rehearsed this song so many times I knew it back to front, so I looked up and caught Zoe's gaze and winked. At that moment, the outside door opened and two women walked in like they owned the joint. That could only mean they were record company types and I suddenly wondered why they were here. They started talking with Simone and shaking hands all round and everyone turned to look at me. I couldn't hear what they were saying of course, so I hoped it was nice. I was awesome, so naturally it would be.
The taller woman looked like a rocker with shaggy black hair and maybe in her early thirties. I was a terrible judge of age. Rule one when trying to determine the age of the opposite sex, always aim low. The other woman was looking down at a tablet she had in her hands, frowning at the screen. Her face was angled away and she was the only one who hadn't looked over at me. She was pretty. Mousey blonde hair, slim, a tattoo down her arm. Well, pretty was not a good word. Beautiful? That was a bit better.
The other woman elbowed her with a knowing smile and she looked up. They knew I was checking her out. What was new? I checked everyone out. Her gaze crossed mine and my fingers fumbled over the strings, making a horrible scratching sound. She had big brown eyes like fucking Bambi and I almost choked. Through the glass I saw Zoe fuming, but the others were laughing their heads off.
Hitting the intercom, I said, "Start it again."
My gaze fell onto the blonde woman as I straightened up and she was standing there, her hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. There was something about her...
I was always a bit of a clown, but right then, I kinda felt embarrassed. As the track started again, I gave Zoe a shrug and turned my back so I didn't have to look at them. And god, I had to know who that woman was. My eyes had locked onto her like a magnet and I'd never felt anything like it. Bam. Connection.
It was then I realized everything Will had said about him and Zoe was right. Seeing him so pussy whipped on tour was bloody amusing, but now I was beginning to understand.
When I saw her, I just knew
.
Will Strickland you motherfucker.
By the time I came out of the booth three takes later, the woman and her friend were gone.
"Who were they?" I asked Frank, who was sitting on a couch at the back of the room. Everyone else had disappeared somewhere.
"Label types," he shrugged.
"Be more specific."
"Marketing manager. Wants to keep us happy. You know the deal."
The deal would probably be taking us out for dinner, gigs, and clubs. I didn't really care. "Who was the blonde one?"
Frank rose an eyebrow. "Intern."
"Her name was intern?" I asked annoyed, knowing full well he had caught on to the fact I'd already made eyes at her.
"She said her name was Jessie," he said slyly. "They're from New York."
"New York, huh?"
"She was a looker."
"I saw her first."
"Damn, it," he laughed. "I so knew you were checking her out."
"Of course I was, mate."
"I'm going to the shop, do you want anything?" That was his code for, I need to get out of this shoe box, and he started towards the door.
"Nope."
"Later, then."
The door closed behind him and I sat there in silence listening to the muted sounds of the track coming from the sound tech's headphones. He was a nice guy, but he didn't hang with us much. It'd been a stupid amount of weeks and I didn't remember his name.
Thankfully Zoe came in, saving me from myself with two takeout cups of coffee in her hands and held one out to me. "Never say I don't give you anything."
"Thanks, Hot Legs." I really fucking needed caffeine right now. And a distraction. Recording was a hard slog and there were times when there was nothing to do but listen to yourself breathe. Those were the times when my mind sunk into depression. I was the kind of guy who needed action to stay afloat.
Chris was in the booth doing the last bass part for
Red Heart
and the sound tech had headphones over his ears listening to what was being recorded. Frank wouldn't come back for at least twenty minutes, so we're free to talk dirty if we wanted to. No one was listening.