Starstruck (Heartstrings Duet #1)

23. far away

[ 23 ]

FAR AWAY

BAXTER

“NON BELIEVER” BY LA ROCCA

H eading back to one of two of Revolution’s onsite studios, I adjust myself in my jeans and take a moment to appreciate the magic we’ve made with this new album. Today’s our last day in the studio with my producers to get the album recorded and mixed before it goes for mastering. Which is a huge relief, considering just a few months ago, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get the thing done.

We just took a quick break before we finish the last few songs, and then I’m meeting with Jeremy and my touring manager’s assistant Val this afternoon. Of course, I used my time wisely and snuck in a lunchtime quickie with Lennon, despite her protests.

For the past week, I’ve only had a chance to see her in her office during breaks in the studio. And though I’ve made the best of those visits, it would be really fucking awesome to fuck her somewhere other than this building and actually have a chance to talk for a change. It’s been almost three weeks since we began this arrangement, and aside from the night I spent comforting her on the six-month anniversary of the accident, so far it’s been all benefits (not that I’m complaining) and not a whole lot of friends .

Which is something I plan on dealing with once all is said and done today. But first, we need to finish this album.

I pull open the recording studio door only to find Levi and Brad scrolling on their phones as Colt paces in the recording booth, his phone pressed to his ear. I have no idea who’s on the other end, but he looks pissed.

“What’s up there?” I ask Levi, tipping my chin toward Colt as I take my seat at the soundboard.

Levi looks up and shrugs. “No clue. Started ringing right after you left. He grumbled something unintelligible before heading in there and hasn’t come out yet.”

“Huh.”

We clearly spoke too soon, because a moment later, the recording booth door swings open and a pissed off Colt stalks back over to us and takes his seat.

I cock a brow. Colt’s always been a grumpy bastard, but it’s unusual seeing him this pissed off.

“You good?”

“Fuck no,” he grunts, shooting Brad a look that says get out . Brad huffs a laugh before heading into the booth to give us some privacy. Colt hits the “talk back” button to ensure Brad can’t hear us, because we all know no matter how trustworthy people may seem, you really can’t trust anyone in this business.

Once he’s gone, Colt turns back to us. “That was Sadie.”

Levi lets out a low whistle as I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, intrigued.

“What’d that smokeshow have to say?” Levi smirks.

I roll my eyes as Colt levels him with a look.

“That’s my sister, you idiot. Watch your fucking mouth.”

I let out a laugh, and Levi joins me, knowing exactly what he has to do to get Colt riled up.

Of the three of us, Colt is the most introverted. He’s broody and quiet, laid back to a point where it takes a lot to get a rise out of him. Unless you mention Sadie—then the protective big brother side comes out.

Which, in typical Levi fashion, he has mastered perfectly.

“Well?” I ask, still waiting for Colt to let us in on the supposed phone call from hell.

“She wants to move to Nashville.”

I raise my brows as Levi mutters, “Oh, fuck,” under his breath.

Now Colt’s reaction makes a whole lot more sense.

Sadie Armstrong is Colt’s half-sister—they share the same mom, Evelyn. After Colt’s dad died when he was five, his mom remarried Sadie’s dad, Keith, and they had her a few years later.

There’s a nine year age difference between the two of them, so they weren’t all that close growing up. But Colt has always been extremely protective over her because of some shit he refuses to talk about. We may be his best friends, but the guy holds more secrets than a teenage girl’s diary. We have our suspicions that something happened with Sadie’s father, but Colt has never confirmed nor denied our theories. Not that I blame him.

I understand better than most what it’s like to have a past you aren’t proud of.

All we know is that when Colt turned eighteen, he wanted to move the hell out of Butt-Fuck Nowhere, Tennessee, up here to Toronto but refused to leave his mom and Sadie behind. So he saved every dollar he made and brought them up here with him. I guess he knew Toronto has a decent music scene, which is what he wanted to pursue, and I know he wanted to get out of the country.

Sadie is now twenty-three and also pursuing music, which drives Colt up the wall. She’s talented as hell, but Colt knows what the music scene is like and worries about her. She just signed to Revolution a few months back. At least this way, Colt can keep a bit of an eye on her and knows the label will always have her back.

But if I’m being honest, I could’ve told you years ago that Sadie would eventually want to move home to Tennessee. Revolution is great, Toronto is great, but Sadie was made to be a country star, and she can’t do that here the same way she could down there.

I already know Colt has two issues with her moving back. The first is the fact that she’ll be far away from him, meaning he won’t be able to constantly watch over her. The second, and arguably the bigger reason, is that she wants to move back to the area she grew up in, which means she’ll be near Keith again. Though Colt has never said it, I know that’s something that worries him.

We may not know much for sure, but from what we’ve all seen over the years, she still struggles with the trauma of growing up in that environment. I can’t imagine her moving back will be easy on anybody.

“What’d you tell her?” Levi asks.

“That she can’t. She just signed to Rev, and though I know Jere would let her transfer to SSE, I’ll kick his ass if he does. She can’t go back there, and she’s not ready to move thirteen-hundred kilometres away.”

SSE, or Six-String Entertainment, is a division of Revolution Records. Where RR is majority rock, SSE focuses more on country music. They have locations out west in Canada as well as a few down in the States, too, with the head office being conveniently based in Nashville.

“She’s not ready, or you’re not?” It’s probably both, but my point still stands.

Colt narrows his eyes at me as a low growl rumbles out of him.

I hold up my hands in defense. “Listen man, I’m just saying. She’s not a kid anymore. Maybe it’s time to start letting her make her own decisions. Besides, it’s not like she’s moving back to Bluebell or whatever the fuck your hometown is called?—”

“Bell Buckle,” he interrupts.

“Yeah, that’s a hick-ass town if I ever did hear one. Anyway, Nashville’s what, a couple hours away?”

“One hour. That’s it.”

“Still. I think it’s time you let her grow up, Colt. ”

“Bax is right,” Levi adds.

Colt grunts, turning toward the soundboard to let us know he’s done talking about this. “Let’s just finish up.”

I sigh, rolling my eyes as I wave to Brad, signalling for him to come back. “Alright. But you’re going to have to face this eventually.”

“BE YOURSELF” BY AUDIOSLAVE

We spend the next few hours finishing the album so it’s ready for mastering, and now that my part of creating this album is complete, I’m finally meeting with Jeremy and Val to discuss finishing my No Promises tour.

Back in October, I had been nearing the end of my North American tour for my last album. But after the news of Audrey and Brennan’s deaths broke, the label put all tours on hold. I was pissed, both because the stage is my favourite place on Earth and because my two biggest musical inspirations were killed , but it made sense, seeing as they owned the label. I figured it’d be a short break—that I’d get back out there soon after their funeral. But then one month bled into two, which bled into three, and there was never any mention of getting me back out there.

By the time January rolled around, I was itching to perform. I typically do at least one show a month even when I’m not on tour, and it’s been almost seven since the last time I even looked at a stage. But it was decided that my new album needed to take priority over finishing my tour as a way to boost the label’s morale post–Thorned Roses, so it hasn’t really been brought up until now.

I march down the hall of the fourth floor, marketing and touring, and make my way to the conference room we agreed to meet in.

“Hey, James,” Val greets as I fill the doorway. “Thanks for meeting with us today.”

“About fucking time,” I grumble, taking the seat across from her.

She huffs a laugh and rolls her eyes, knowing me well enough by now to not let my attitude phase her. “How have things been going with the album?”

I tilt my chin. “Good. Mastering starts tomorrow.”

She smiles. “That’s great. Happy to hear that things have been going well.” She claps her hands together, leaning forward on the table. “So, about your tour. You have ten cities left across central and northeast US. I’ve spoken to the stadiums, and it’s looking like June through July will be the best time for you to finish up.”

My brows furrow. “That soon?”

As much as I’ve missed performing, I wasn’t expecting to get back out that quickly. I figured most of the stadiums would have been booked for other shows by now, seeing as June is only a month away, so I assumed I’d finish after the benefit concert.

Val nods, grinning. “The stadiums have agreed to move things around to accommodate you. You’re one of the biggest acts a lot of them host, after all. And we want to get this tour done before the benefit concert so we can begin promoting RND around then.”

I nod slowly, running a hand over my mouth. As much as I’ve been losing my mind over not performing, now is also the worst fucking time. Going out on tour now means losing time from the already short period that Lennon agreed to be friends with benefits for.

“How long?”

She opens the notebook in front of her, holding it out to show me the rough schedule she’s drawn up. “Looking like six to eight weeks. I’ve got you starting in?—”

“I can’t do a two-month tour right now,” I interrupt, gritting my teeth.

Jeremy’s brows pull together as Val’s jaw falls open. “Baxter—” Jeremy begins, but I shake my head. No fucking way am I leaving for that long when Lennon put a four-month timeline on us.

“No. I’ll do a month, tops. But I agreed to be around in case Lennon needs help with anything concert-related.”

The look on Jeremy’s face only grows more confused with that sentence, but I ignore it. It’s clear he knows something’s up with us, what with how we acted in his office and that comment just now. But Lennon said she doesn’t want people to know about us, and knowing how close Jeremy is to the Thorne family, I’m guessing he’s near the top of that list.

I look back to Val, brows raised in question.

She glances down at the notebook, writing a few things down, before turning back to me. “I’ll have to talk to Nick”—I roll my eyes as she says my touring manager’s name. I’ve never been a fan of the guy—“but I think the best we’ll be able to do is five weeks. And it’s going to be back-to-back. No breaks, no time to breathe.”

“Fine.” I nod. “The shorter the tour, the better. I don’t care if I’m exhausted—I put on a good show no matter what.”

Val looks to Jeremy with her brows raised, his still furrowed, a silent conversation passing between them. With a nod from him, she looks back to me. “Okay. I’ll get back to you on the exact dates, but expect around mid-June to mid-July.”

“Sure,” I say with a nod, though the idea of being gone even that long pisses me off. But they’re right—the sooner this tour is done, the better. And it will be good to be back on stage again.