Wicked Innocence (19 page)

Sax

My eyes widened. Had I just heard this guy right?

“Representation?” I repeated.

“Yes. I’m familiar with your success with Severed, and I also know about your, uh, problems following your departure from music, but I think you have a real talent as a solo artist. You have a very unique sound, and the good thing about you is you already have a very steady fan base from your days with Severed.”

“Wow. I’m flattered, but I don’t really know what to say.”

“Has getting back into music ever crossed your mind?” he asked.

“Well, of course it has. Music means everything to me. But the fame…I’d happily leave all that,” I muttered. I rubbed my forehead. Even the thought of it was giving me a headache.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, pressing in into my hand.
James Archer, Amtrax Records.
“Look, just think about it. Take as long as you need. If you want to discuss anything, give me a call.”

I nodded and shook his hand. I watched him walk away, not sure what to think. Hell, I wasn’t even sure how I felt about what just happened.

I wandered around the front of the stage and found Micah.

“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately, her face dropping.

“Nothing,” I assured her, taking her hand. “That guy was a producer for Amtrax Records. They want to represent me as a solo artist.”

“What?” squealed Stace, throwing her arms around me. “That’s amazing! That’s huge!”

I laughed and shrugged her off, turning to Micah.

“How do you feel about it?” Micah said. She studied my face.

I shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m shocked, to be honest. I don’t know if I can put myself through all that again,” I admitted.

She smiled, curling her arms around my waist. “How did you feel up there, singing?” she asked.

“Amazing. But that’s because I was singing for you,” I said with a grin.

She laughed, her eyes sparkling. “You’re so smooth. But if singing is what makes you feel alive, then I say do it. Are you the same person you were back then?”

“No.”

I was older. I had more maturity, more life experience under my belt. I also knew what I wanted. I knew the things that made me happy. One of those things was standing in front of me. The other was music.

She shrugged. “So, this time make it different. Learn from your mistakes and do it right. Sing because you love what your music does to people. Do this because you can’t imagine doing anything else. Do it because you know you can.”

I narrowed my eyes and smiled at her. “Are you sure you’re only seventeen?” I whispered in her ear. I took her hand. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” She laughed as I led her away.

“I want to show you something.”

We walked around the outside of the grounds. The park was huge—much bigger than I had realized. She glanced at me, as if trying to figure out where I was taking her, but I wasn’t giving anything away.

“Just up here,” I murmured as we walked down a small path that opened out into a clearing. “Over there.”

She looked to where I was pointing, her expression confused as she stared at the series of rocks that overlooked what used to be a pond.

“That spot right there was where I was first discovered. I was sitting there playing my music, and a few people were standing around, listening. One of them was an agent who was looking for a front man for a new band.”

“Severed,” she murmured.

“Yep. That means
twice
in this park I’ve been offered a potentially life-changing opportunity.” My hands curved around her back as I pulled her against me. “The difference is, last time something was missing.”

“Your maturity?” she teased, cocking her head.

I laughed. “Okay, so a few things are different this time around. I really feel like I can make something of myself, M. A big part of that is having you by my side.”

“I know you can do it. I’ve always believed that,” she said sincerely.

I leaned in and kissed her, my fingers stroking her cheek as her lips touched mine. I couldn’t imagine things getting any better. I had the girl and I had a second chance to do what I was born to do. Sing.

How many people get one chance to do what they love, let alone two? I wasn’t going to mess it up this time. Because with everything single thing I did, I knew she’d be right there with me, just as I’d be there for her.

Together, we could accomplish anything.

“Saxon, thanks for meeting with me. I must say, I was surprised when I received your call.” James sat down opposite me and pressed the intercom on his phone. “Sally, can you get me a coffee. Would you like anything?” he asked me.

“A coffee would be great. White, no sugar.”

“And one for Saxon too, please. The same as mine.” He rubbed his hands together. “Okay, let’s get down to business, shall we? Am I right that considering you are here, that you’re interested in what we discussed the other day?”

“I’m interested in learning more about your proposal,” I responded carefully.

“Good. That’s a start. As I said, I don’t expect you to go rushing into this. Now, what I have in mind is a few small shows to get you comfortable with performing in front of a crowd again. I’d like to release a track. Have you been working on anything during your absence?” he asked. “The song you performed at the festival, was that one of your own?”

I nodded. “I have probably a dozen songs I’d consider strong enough to stand alone as a single.”

“Good, that’s what I was hoping you would say. Have you thought about how this is going to affect the band? Obviously it wouldn’t be possible for you to continue as their manager, though I can suggest some reputable people in the industry who might be interested in that role.”

“Yes, I understand that.” I hesitated. “My girlfriend is the lead singer of Resurrection, and my cousin is the lead guitarist. I’m hoping I’ll be able to use some of my own exposure to help them out.”

A knock on the door interrupted us. I smiled as his assistant walked in carrying two cups. She set one in front of me, and the other in front of him. He thanked her and she left.

Turning his attention back to me, he nodded.

“That’s fine, but you need to understand it might take time to get you to that point. Also, my main concern is you. I like that you want to help your cousin and girlfriend, but your focus needs to be yourself. There will be times when you’ll be in one part of the country and they will be in another. Are you going to be able to handle that?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay, good. So now you need to decide. Is this what you really want? I’m willing to invest a lot of time and effort into you, but I need to know that you are committed to this. I need a hundred and ten percent from you, Saxon. That might mean putting other things first so we can get you to the top. But I promise you, if you do this, I’ll get you there.”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing.

Was I ready for this? Was this what I wanted?

Micah’s words echoed in my head.

Sing because you love what your music does to people. Do this because you can’t imagine doing anything else. Do it because you know you can.

“I want this,” I said, placing my hand on the edge of his desk.

He nodded, satisfied. “Okay. Let’s get the ball rolling. I’ll have contracts drawn up and sent to you in the next few days. In the meantime, I’ll have the marketing department arrange a meeting with you.” He stood up and extended his arm. I took his hand and shook it.

“Welcome back, Saxon.”

I smiled, a thrill racing through me.

Watch out, world: Saxon Waite is back.

Releasing 12
^th
August on all major online retailors. See
www.hjbellus.com
for more information.

Excerpt

Chapter One

"I'm pregnant."

"You’re what?" I shout in shock.

"I'm pregnant. I'm so sorry."

Pacing the tiny, musty room, I continue to shake my head, trying to believe my best friend, Jazzy, can’t be knocked up.

"Jazzy, we made a pact. Always together forever, and when we turned eighteen, we were both leaving this dump."

"I know," she chokes, falling onto the bare, dirty mattress lying on the floor.

"How? Who? Why? Ah shit, never mind." I trail off.

"Stay here with me, please."

Jazzy knows better than to put me in this situation. We made this promise the day I turned twelve. We vowed to each other to run. Run as fast as we could the moment we turned eighteen. Jazzy is already eighteen, today is my eighteenth birthday, and she nails me with this news.

How in the fuck did she allow herself to be sucked straight back into this vortex?

Jazzy begins to beg. "Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me."

We have been neighbors since we were eight and have lived through hell together. Jazzy only has Old Man, her dad, who is never around, between all of his biker drug runs and rallies, or whatever the hell he chooses to call them. I have my mom and her flavor of the month. Unfortunately, the past year she has stuck with Duane, who is my walking, living nightmare in the flesh, ready to haunt me around every corner. The one nice thing about Old Man is his being on the road with the motorcycle club gives us the house to ourselves.

We packed everything of mine last night and brought it in one grocery bag to Jazzy's. I could get away with staying at her house most nights because my mom sold my mattress to a neighbor for some extra cash. So when I was forced to stay at home, I had to sleep on the floor in my room or on the couch.

I hated those nights the most because Duane was always lurking. Jazzy gave me one of her dad's knives for when I had to go home. But, unfortunately, it took only one night of Duane, and me not having the knife in reach, to convince me that nothing – and I do mean absolutely nothing – would hold me prisoner in this lifestyle.

I will take an empty future any day over living one more minute in this filth. Years of going to school smelling of stale cigarette smoke and rotting food was lesson enough for me. Having flee. Jazzy was the only person beside me the whole time. She is my rock and my person my classmates gag when I walked near was another reminder of how badly I wanted to, but now I'm being ripped from that too.

As selfish as it may seem, sometimes there comes a point in your life when you need to live for yourself. I’ve survived in the shadows for the last eighteen years. Today, I vow to no longer live for others, but rather to make decisions based solely on me.

"I can't," I finally tell her.

"No," she wails, scrambling up from the mattress.

"Come with me, Jazzy.”

She looks away, unable to meet my gaze. "I can't go on the road expecting a baby. We only have three hundred and sixty-two dollars saved up for both of us."

"I can't stay, Jazzy. I'm tired of smelling like cigarette smoke, having my eyes practically swollen shut from it, and I'm tired of being beat. My scars thrive in this place. I’m done being reminded of the pain. I’m so done."

"Old Man said he would get you a gun for the next time. He said he can even have the club take care of him, just like he took care of Steve for you. He’ll keep us safe."

"He ripped me, tore me, and took every ounce of me, right in front of my mom. If my own mom will allow that, how can I ever trust anyone again? I have to leave. Please, let me go."

Dead silence fills the tiny room. The familiar sounds of dogs barking and the plastic cover that shields the window from the outside elements are the only sounds. Memories of miserable nights with only each other float around in my mind. Nights of painful hunger and beatings are the only memories I have of my mother and our so called home. Being sent home from school because of the bugs crawling around in my hair. My mom’s solution being to cut it all off. Those are the recollections I so desperately crave to leave behind.

I refuse to morph into a woman like her. I no longer choose to stay here and willingly accept my shitty future. I always thought Jazzy and I would be together forever. But like the tragic tale that is my life, this would be just another dream crushed. Jazzy is the only piece of hope left here in Wisconsin, and the horrible truth is she isn’t enough to keep me here in this nightmare. The one and only action with a grand enough gesture to convince me stay here is a single bullet to my skull.

Unable to look her in the eyes, I lay it all out. "I don’t have a choice, Jazzy. The world has dealt me a shitty hand, and I refuse to stay here and let it have its way with me. I love you, and I always will, but this has to be goodbye. Forever. I’ll leave your half of the money, but I have to go."

"Just stay one more night with me, please," she begs as the tears start to flow.

"My skin has been burned, cut, and torn in this town – hell, right in the house next door. I'm leaving, and it has to happen tonight."

"Keep in touch with me," Jazzy demands as I grab my bag and hold my hand out for my part of the money.

Half of the money will not get me very far. We were damn proud of the little we collected over the last few months from Old Man's pockets and the passed-out strangers in my house after a rager Duane had thrown, but now I only hope it can get me far enough.

I figure I can get at least one hundred thirty miles from here with the money I have. I’ll find somewhere to stay and make some cash, then keep moving down the road. There is no way my mom would go any further than fifty miles past home in search of me. Hell, she might miss a party or a filming opportunity. With no high hopes set, my bag of clothes containing two outfits plus the one I am wearing, my scars, and half the money are the only things I am laying claim to. I will never need anything else from this town, this house, or this freaking neighborhood.

“Take it all. Old Man will make sure I’m taken care of. Take it all, and run like hell,” Jazzy says as she turns her back on me. She never looks back while exiting her room.

And just like that, I lose my best friend in a matter of moments. This is not a type of relationship that can be rebuilt over time. No, the door was closed forever on it. Jazzy saved my life every day. Growing up, she was my everything wrapped in one. I will never forget her, but I no longer have room for her in my life.

I wrap up my thoughts and tuck them into a deep, dark crevice amongst my other memories and gather all the cash from Jazzy’s mattress. Then I make my way out of her house for the final time. Jazzy is nowhere to be found. I thought she might be in her favorite spot on her worn-out couch watching some shit on television. She’s always nested there when she is pissed at me or Old Man. It’s her safe spot, but this time she’s gone.

“What the fuck is going on?” Old Man asks from the kitchen.

Jazzy and I have lied to Old Man so many times in the past about our whereabouts or his missing money, but this time it felt really wrong to lie, almost like committing a crime. Old Man may not be the picture perfect dad, but he always took care of us and loves his daughter more than anything. If he knew of our plan to run away, he would have cut our legs off without a second thought. I do hope the poor sap who knocked up Jazzy runs fast, because he will be catching one of Old Man’s bullets to the ass otherwise.

“Girl, come clean, now,” he says as he walks closer.

Unable to look him in the eye, I try to tell him half the truth, or at least the most important part of the truth.

“I’m leaving, and Jazzy is pissed at me. I can’t stay here any longer, Old Man. I’d rather die than stay here,” I whisper, avoiding all eye contact.

“Lift your head up, child.”

If I’ve learned one thing, it’s to always listen to Old Man when he talks.

“Now, I know life has sucked for you. I’ve tried my fucking best to protect you.”

Now with tears streaming, I respond, “I know. I love you and Jazzy, but I can’t stay here. You can’t protect me from all of them. Moving across town or in here with you guys just isn’t enough. I have to go. Please don’t try to stop me.”

“Why isn’t that stubborn-ass child of mine running with you?”

“That’s her story to tell.”

“You two little fucking shits have always covered each other’s asses, but I’m not liking the sounds of this.”

“She’s hurt I’m leaving and not waiting for her. Take it easy on her.”

“So, am I to assume this is why you two have been stealing money from my jeans when you think I’m passed out?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You fucking call me Sir one more time, and I’ll beat your ass, child.”

I giggle at Old Man’s words, always so subtle.

“Thanks for everything. I wouldn’t be able to run if you hadn’t been protecting me all these years,” I say between a combination of tears and laughter from his threat.

“Here,” he says as he hands me a wad of hundred dollar bills. “Take it and don’t say shit about it. I’ll call a brother to come pick you up and drive you to the next town. I consider you my girl, and you’ll not be walking in the dark. No, you’ll be on the back of a bike, riding with one of my members to protect your ass.”

“Thank you,” is all I can manage to squeak out.

“And child, you best be checking yourself. If you think life here is rough, and I know you have your scars to prove it, you better keep your back to the motherfucking wall out in the real world. Don’t let anyone fuck with you, and if they do, you know my number and your way home.”

“Thank you, but I’m never coming back or calling you. This is the end for me.”

“Quit fucking thanking me. I’ll call Animal to come pick you up. You’ll be gone in fifteen minutes, lil’ sis. Just don’t fuck up your new life.”

“Never let Jazz forget how much I love her,” I whisper.