Feuds and Interludes (Rock ‘n’ Romance Legends #1)

Chapter 15

Fifteen

S hane

The three men I’d worked with as closely as you possibly could for the past seven years, the ones who I’d carried with me, shared my music with, were breaking up with me.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Dean looked at the others and continued acting as the band’s spokesperson.

“We talked about it. I guess after we wrapped this album. Man, we want to do something more commercial. You know, go back to pop punk. That’s what’s selling now, not this dark, heavy shit.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but why? It appeared I’d walked into a mutiny. Did Lydia know when she’d suggested this sit-down? Did Morrison? What about Jeff, our fucking manager?

“Look, Shane, we’ve made good music together. We’ve had a great ride. But if we want to remain relevant, we need to make a change. Look at MGK. Hell, look at Bring Me The Horizon. One gave up rap for punk, one gave up the metal scene for I don’t even know what you call it, other than pop.”

They weren’t telling falsehoods about MGK and Oli and company. I actually thought both of those diversions worked for those bands.

“I’m not a pop punk singer.”

My band looked back at me expectantly, as if they were waiting for me to figure out the a-ha moment.

“Ah. You weren’t intending for me to sing.”

They squirmed in their seats and finally had the decency to look uncomfortable. Good. I could be mature and still not make this bullshit easy for them.

“Shane,” Dean began. I was probably closest with him, both in age and experience. “It’s business. And it’s creative differences. You want to keep playing the hard stuff, and that’s fine. You should do that. But we want to make a change. And if that’s not what you want, hey. Wicked Soul is your IP. We’re not going to fight you on that.”

Glad he was smart enough to— Wait.

“You already talked to a lawyer.”

He nodded.

“So that’s it? All three of you?”

“Actually,” said Tucker. “I got asked to tour with Demi Lovato. She’s doing this whole rock thing. Pays good.” He shrugged. “I don’t really care what I’m playing as long as I’m getting paid, and we ain’t getting paid as much as we did after the first two albums.”

I rubbed my hands together. “That brings us to the fact that we’re still under contract. The label expects one more album at the very least.”

Drew shrugged. “You’ve already got the music. You play most of the instruments anyway. Record it. Hire a touring band. That’s all we’ve been to you.”

That… ouch . That hurt, but I couldn’t argue with him.

“I’m sorry you feel… I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. You all mean more to me than a contract.”

They had the decency to accept that as truth and not throw it back in my face, but it was obvious that my feelings toward them didn’t matter anymore.

“And Rocktoberfest?”

They all looked at each other and back at me. We’d been asked to play after last year’s event, and part of this trip up to Bolder Breed was so that we could rehearse. We’d planned to play new music at that show, kind of a kickoff to album preorders and our first single hitting the airwaves. It was six weeks away.

“You’ll figure it out,” Dean said. “You always do.” There was no malice in his voice at least. There was that.

“I guess that’s it then.” I stood and walked toward Dean. He looked nervous as I approached, but when I stuck my hand out, he relaxed. “I wish you all the best.”

Dean took my hand, stood, and we shook. There was no bro hug after, like we usually did.

Lydia had been quiet the whole time, I guess figuring that she didn’t need to step in as long as no punches or chairs were being thrown.

I shook hands with Drew and Tucker, they all thanked Lydia, and then they were gone. Off to the airport and back to LA. They’d been packed before we even met this morning.

“Wow.” I slumped back into my chair.

Lydia whistled and dragged her chair closer to me.

“That was not at all how I thought this would go down. Don’t get me wrong, I had a feeling y’all might not stay together. But to quit? Just like that? And pop punk? Seriously? They’re not going to be the new Green Day. That ship sailed. Nostalgia only gets you so far.”

“Did you know?” I folded my hands between my spread knees and stared at the floor, my eyes burning with tears I would not shed.

“That they were going to quit? Hell no. Not at all.”

That made me feel better. I trusted Lydia more than most. It would suck if I found I couldn’t trust her, either.

“I’ve worked my entire career to avoid this kind of shit, to not end up alone like Pops. What the hell for?”

“Shane, you can’t be an island in a band. It has to be solid, with interconnecting and dependent parts, you know? A brotherhood, or the gender-appropriate equivalent.”

“But I am an island! My band just ditched me like I’m fucking Captain Jack Sparrow.”

Lydia kicked my foot with her boot. “Does that make me Elizabeth? Shall we get drunk off pirate’s rum?” She chuckled, but the last thing I wanted was to get shitfaced.

I wanted something—someone—better.

“I know this sucks, and I know you’re going to freak out when it really hits you, but this is actually a huge fucking opportunity. Your band did you a massive favor.”

I frowned and sat up straight. “How do you figure?”

She spread her arms out in a grand gesture. “You have a clean slate. You are no longer limited by what they can and can’t do. You can completely reinvent Wicked Soul, or you can blow the fucking lid off and be fucking Shane Butler. You can do whatever you want!”

I smiled at her enthusiasm. I could tell she was building to something.

“If you hadn’t pushed me to confront them, I’d still have a band, maybe. And a mediocre album. Do I have you to blame? Or to thank?”

She bent over laughing. “I guess you could see it either way. Or you could see that you have three brilliant producers at your disposal, ready to work with you on this reinvention.”

I thought about what else I might have that I didn’t before we came up here.

Do I have Boone ?

“If you don’t mind,” I said, giving her the eyebrow. “I think I’ll take the day to let this all sink in.”

She clapped her hands together. “Splendid. Unice is coming in this afternoon anyway and after she unpacks, I plan to whisk her away to the spa and then take care of her other needs, if you get what I’m saying.”

If I thought Boone and I made a strange pair, Lydia and her much-younger pop-star girlfriend had raised more than a few eyebrows when they went public with their relationship. Unice was wildly talented, and I’d heard Lydia had pulled a similar stunt with her, offering her an opportunity to make changes in her professional life. Personal too, it turned out.

“I need to call Pops. And I need to find Boone.” I was thinking out loud, and obviously the second item piqued her interest.

“Boone, huh? Rose said you were hanging out with Stellar last night. You guys squash whatever beef you two had?”

My cheeks burned when I thought of what Boone and I had been up to. Any beef that may have been there evaporated the second I kissed him. He was too precious for that.

“Life is short,” is what I ended up saying. “There’s enough shit in this world. I don’t need to make more. We’re cool.” I wondered if I was pressing my luck to take her further into my confidence.

“Cool?” She grinned at me. “A little birdie told me Collins has been strutting around here grinning like a loon with some new decorations on his neck. You have anything to do with that?”

“Am I in trouble if I say yes?”

She shrugged as she stood and straightened the cabin, putting my former band members’ chairs away. “Not if it’s consensual. Not from me.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Boone’s good people. His grandparents raised him right, thank goodness, because he went through some shit as a kid. I knew his dad, motherfucking scumbag. Excuse my language. And I’ll never forget the damn pictures of Boone when his mom was found dead. He was alone with her for hours, Shane. Those guileless blue eyes, staring into the cameras through a curtain of curls as he was led out in front of the damn paparazzi, daring the whole world to feel his pain just for a minute. I still see that pain in him sometimes. I know he’s a grown-ass man and all successful and shit, but I’ll never forget those eyes. Thank God for John and Vera Jean, right?”

“Right.” And that was another reminder. Boone had suffered so much loss as a child. I used to think of him as spoiled because he had his grandparents to care for him, but losing your parents like that, for the whole world to see? I might not talk to mine, but at least they were alive. Someday I hoped to mend fences with them. Seemed like I was about to have a lot more time on my hands. Maybe it was time. “Oh, hey, I heard you offered Bolder Breed to the Collins Foundation for the fundraiser. That was really cool of you.”

“Least I could do for Vera Jean and Bruce. It’s going to be a blast?—”

“And Bruce? What does Pops have to do with it?”

She blinked at me. “Oh, haven’t you talked to him? He and Vera Jean are doing it together. I’m so excited. They’ve got big plans.”

I stood there like I had a fucking cramp in my brain. Way too much information coming at me. They had plans ? Why the fuck was I hearing this from Lydia and not Pops?

I needed to call him. I needed to find Boone.

“So let’s regroup tomorrow morning, sound good? I’m happy to be here for you to bounce ideas off of, you know, whether it’s a Wicked Soul album, a solo project, or…who knows, a Butler-Collins collaboration. I’d love to get you two in here and write with you. See ya later.”

Why did that last one sound like it was god-blessed fucking meant to be?