Riffs That Ruin (Survival Records #2)

34. Raina

I f I’ve ever experienced a more emotional performance of a song, I can’t fucking remember it. Even all the times I sang about my teenage love for Tristan after he disappeared on me doesn’t come close.

I was planning on singing another song, but to be honest, I can’t handle it. Not right now. My heart pounds frantically in my chest, and there’s a weird churning of emotions in my stomach. It’s a mix of happiness and sadness, of fear and excitement, to name a few. It might actually be quicker to name the emotions that aren’t filtering through me right now.

All I know is I’m about to burst into tears. It’s too much, too confusing.

I flee from the backstage area and rush through the greenroom, wanting to make it through the maze of the venue to find my way onto the bus as quickly as possible.

The guys trail behind me, always supporting me no matter what, even if they don’t have an explanation yet for why I’m acting so fucking weird. I’m getting looks from the crew as we pass. They know my set included one more song, but I don’t owe them a reason for changing my plans.

My eyes prickle with the tears that want to come pouring out of me. I was trying to be strong, to not let the devastation get to me; I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of hurting me so much that they got any tears from me. I didn’t want to give them a piece of myself.

They don’t deserve anything from me.

But my fans… They can have it all.

Sharp pain suddenly digs into my arm and rips a line down my skin as I continue moving. Whipping my head around, I find Carmen scowling.

“What the fuck is this?” she asks, holding a piece of paper into the air next to her head.

“Get your hand off me,” I growl, reaching to pry her skeletal fingers from my arm. Before I can even reach her, Keaton is already there, gripping her wrist and squeezing tightly as he gently removes her claws.

“No touching,” he hisses in her face.

The pure menacing anger rolling off him has her eyes growing wide and her foot sliding back to put some space between us. I love how powerful his words are when he chooses to use them around others.

“What’s your deal?” I snap, running my fingertips over the crescent moon marks left in my arm.

“My deal?” she screeches, gaining the attention of more and more people. “What’s your deal? Why are you sending me a cease-and-desist order? How dare you try to claim my song as your own!”

I’m not sure anything could take me more off guard right now than her trying to claim my song as her own—this is more surprising than if she had simply smacked me across the face. My jaw drops, and I stand frozen in place, trying to frantically process what the fuck is happening. Yay for my lawyer having taken such quick action. Boo to the little cunt who thinks she can attack me when she’s in the wrong.

Thankfully, I have backup with me.

Blake doesn’t even let her finish her fake sob story before he’s already letting out a low, guttural laugh. “Your song? Right.” He shakes his head with a mocking twist of his lips. “We all know Raina doesn’t need to steal any damned songs, especially not from the likes of you.”

“It was given to me,” she whines and stamps her foot.

Is she for real, throwing a tantrum like a two-year-old?

“While that might be true,” Darius says, his hand moving to my lower back as he steps to my side, keeping up with the fake dating appearances. “It doesn’t make it your song. Raina wrote it and has the proof. What do you have?”

“It was given to me . It’s mine now!“ Carmen growls, that whine still threaded through her voice like she’s entitled to whatever she wants.

“Bless your little heart. That’s not how things work,” I say, channeling every southern-woman-giving-an-insult that I’ve ever heard.

“You’re already famous. You don’t need these songs and I do. You can’t have them back! You’re a selfish whore who only wants the spotlight on her.” Carmen’s insults wash over me, not hitting the target she thinks she is. Her voice continues to get louder until she’s screaming at the top of her lungs. “You’re trying to sabotage my career because you’re threatened by me!”

A shocked silence sweeps over the space, the tension palpable, as everyone hangs onto her shrill accusations. People hold their phones up, undoubtedly filming, wanting to put the fight online, but Gill snatches the devices out of their hands. I know she’s reminding them of the NDA they signed.

I remain silent, tasting blood where I’ve bitten the inside of my cheek. My heart thunders in my chest and I grapple internally on how best to respond. Her words try to claw into my psyche, a twisted attempt to wrest control.

Like what the actual fuck is going on right now? Is this really all a result of her being in her teens and not understanding what’s happening? Or is it because Dickless has fed her lies and given her a superiority complex?

The absurdity of her having this kind of attitude finally has me laughing. I can’t help it. The sound echoes around the room, mingling with the buzz of those watching us.

“Threatened? By you?” My laughter continues to bubble out, causing Darius to squeeze my side in silent support. “Honey, you’re not even on my radar.”

I knew Carmen was desperate for fame and recognition, but using my work to bolster her own image was a new low. We should call her CeeCee since she’s trying to be my carbon copy. My fame isn’t something you can replicate like a template to find instant success.

She’s trying to paint me as the villain when all I’m doing is protecting what’s rightfully mine.

Nash leans forward, his expression contorted with anger. “Raina doesn’t need to steal. She sings from her soul,” he says resolutely, his voice booming through the room, catching everyone’s attention. “Even the fans can tell the difference between the two versions of the same song. You’re nothing but a joke that nobody will remember in a few months.”

His words hang in the air like an omen waiting to happen.

Over the years, I’ve grown accustomed to the darkness that this industry can breed and the poisonous narratives it can spin. It’s a sickening blend of admiration and hatred; they love you until they don’t.

Carmen truly had a chance to reach her dreams and become famous, but choosing to double down on stolen lyrics will get her canceled if the response from my fans is a hint of what will happen.

I’ve always been the type to fix crowns instead of ripping them off my peer’s heads, which is why I feel like I should try one more time to save her from herself.

“Listen, Carmen. Just because you got your hands on my song doesn’t mean it’s yours. Not legally, not morally. Those lyrics were stolen straight out of my notebook without my permission.”

Her face screws into a look of bitchy annoyance, like I’m wasting my time. “But I—”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” I cut her off. “It’s wrong, plain and simple. I’ll give you a chance right now to admit you didn’t know the song was stolen and to agree not to sing any of my stolen lyrics again. If you do, I’ll be your best ally in reaching your goals.

“But if you decide to keep throwing baseless insults and accusations at me, then I’ll be forced to continue with the lawsuit in protecting my intellectual property.”

Anger washes over her face, and I know right away she doesn’t see anything wrong with what she’s doing. She might not have been the one who stole my lyrics from the notebook, but she sees nothing wrong with it. “Stop being so selfish! You weren’t even doing anything with those lyrics until we started producing the tracks. You don’t need them, you’ve had plenty of hits. Plus, you owe the label another album, anyway. Who cares if you sing the songs or not. You’re an old washed out hag.”

Her newest attack has tension simmering through the air, so thick you can cut it with a knife. I gave her a chance, but it’s clear she’s cut from the same cloth as Dickless.

“Enjoy your delusions while they last, Carmen. Because when reality comes crashing down on you, it’ll hurt like hell.”

Before she can react, Keaton hooks an arm around my waist and guides me away from her and toward our waiting bus, leaving behind a dumbfounded crowd and a red-faced Carmen.

I’m not even worried about leaving the venue in my costume. My team is probably used to retrieving them from The Storm by now.

We make it to the exit, where Darius finds his way next to me again. I might forget about keeping up our fake dating appearance, but he never does. His arm finds my waist, holding me close as we face the ever waiting barrage of fans, reporters, and flashing light bulbs.

The cool night air hits me like a balm, but just as quickly freezes me to my core. These costumes aren’t made to brave the winter nights. Keaton crowds into my other side, doing his best to block me from the gusty breeze as I smile and wave to people as we pass.

“Got to get her inside before she turns into a pop -sicle,“ Darius teases, giving the disappointed group of fans a reason why we aren’t stopping to say hi today.

The moment the door shuts behind us, my hands cover my face and I sink to the ground, letting the bottled emotions flow out of me.

I cry.

Sob like a little baby.

You’d think by now I’d have learned that hiding my emotions is unhealthy…

Arms wrap around me, then another set and another, until I’m certain the jostling of my body is the feeling of each and every one of them trying to hold me at once. Even Darius.