Ripped: The Price of Loyalty by Tania Joyce
Chapter 11
After six days of a grueling non-stop publicity tour from LA to Dallas and Minnesota, Kyle’s tiredness disappeared, and a buzz prickled his skin. He took a seat on one of the high-backed leather boardroom chairs opposite Gemma and Hunter at SureHaven Records on Madison Avenue. April sunshine filtered through the windows, casting a spotlight on the glass-framed photos of musicians and rock legends lining the wall. For the first time in weeks, he looked forward to something.
Today was demo day.
Time to start working on their new album. New songs. New sound. New direction. This was what he needed to keep his mind off Gemma.
But even after three cups of coffee before nine o’clock in the morning, Kyle’s concentration kept lapsing. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She sported a new haircut. Still long, hanging halfway down her back, but it was now darker, gone from light brunette to a deep chocolate brown. He wanted to bury his face against it, brush his fingers thought it, and feel her on his skin. The new color made her green eyes blaze even brighter beneath her long bangs. She was stunning, but he had to rein in his ogling. It was time to get down to business.
Kyle sipped on his coffee and skimmed over his email and to-do list on his cell phone. “Are you two ready for today?”
Hunter leaned back on his chair next to Gemma, his feet up on the table top, and took a selfie for his Instagram page. “Hell yeah. New songs here we come.”
Kyle rubbed his hands on his thighs. A nervous energy fluttered in the pit of his stomach—he was eager to get the long day under way.
Even though they were a few weeks off hitting the studio, Kyle loved recording. It was one of the best things about being a musician. Laying down the vocals, recording the music—the great times the three of them had together in the studio was worth every minute of the long and grueling hours.
Gemma sat with her cast resting up on another chair. Even in sweats, she looked beautiful. But she fidgeted with everything. Her pen. Her book. Her cast.
“Gem? What’s up?” Kyle asked.
She tapped the end of her pen against her notepad. Click, click, click, at hyper speed. Then she stopped. Concern darkened her eyes. “I’m sure the team here is going to come up with something great, but we’ve written so much of our own incredible material over the past few months. What do you think our chances are of getting more of our songs onto the album? Not their manufactured shit.” She glanced back and forth between him and Hunter. “Are you guys honestly happy to continue collaborating with the same production team and the same songwriters again, and sing whatever crap they throw at us?”
“Gem, I love the stuff we’ve written lately. But we have to sit on them.” Kyle kept his tone steady even though he wanted to gag her mouth when it came to this topic. “You know as well as I do, we’re under contract. They have control, and we can’t do anything about it.”
“I agree with Kyle on this one.” Hunter swung his legs down off the table and rocked back on his chair. “Let’s not piss ’em off.”
Gemma leaned against the table. “But I want this album to be our songs, not theirs.”
“You know that’s not going to happen.” Kyle sighed. “We do make the songs our own. That’s what today is about. We get to go through all the demos they’ve shortlisted and choose the ones we like. Don’t go causing any problems for us.”
Kyle usually rallied behind Gemma, but not anymore. He had to focus on the only thing in his life that mattered now, and that was music. This contract with SureHaven was nothing but a stepping stone in their career. SureHaven had made them global stars. In the scheme of things, a six-year, five-album contract wasn’t a lifetime sentence. So, for now, he had to keep Gemma’s head out of the clouds and her mouth shut. “Once we’ve finish this contract, we will be able to negotiate new terms and conditions for future albums. We’ll get creative control. But we have to wait until after this album.”
“Can’t we at least discuss the possibility of using more of our own material with them?” Gemma stabbed her pen into the cover of her notebook.
“Come on, babe.” Hunter rubbed his hand on her leg. “Kyle’s right. Let it go. We’re getting three of our own tracks on the album. You should be happy. I don’t care what they want us to sing. I’d sing nursery rhymes if I had to, as long as I get to perform on a stage. Although, I have to admit . . . I do like the age-group of our current fan-base over kindergarten any day.”
“I’m going to kick your ass back to kindergarten.” Gemma glared at Hunter, daggers shooting from her eyes. “Thanks for the support.”
Hunter shrugged, undeterred by her disapproval. “Choose your battles, babe. SureHaven own us for now.”
Kyle groaned and rolled his eyes. “We’ll never get anywhere if we keep this up. Can we at least all agree on trying to get a more rock-oriented sound?”
“There’s no questioning that.” Gemma folded her arms across her chest. “But what if we talk to our lawyer? Richard may be able to renegotiate new terms for us.”
“Gem. Enough,” Kyle said. “We’ve left it too late. We’re too close to hitting the studio.” He hated seeing the hurt flicker in her eyes, but they had a job to do.
Hunter splayed his palms, clearly not wanting to fight. “Let’s make sure these guys are left with no other choice but to give us everything we want in the future after this album.”
Kyle nodded. His efforts would be futile, but he typed himself a memo to call Richard tomorrow. He’d do anything to keep Gemma happy, but didn’t want her to get her hopes up. A quick call to Richard surely wouldn’t hurt anyone.
When he looked up, heaviness hung deep inside his chest. Gemma had turned her chair around to face the window. She wiggled her toes peeking out the end of her cast and gnawed on the side of her thumb. He’d been so caught up in his own heartache over the past few weeks that he’d failed to see she was unhappy. “Gem, is this what’s bothering you? Are you that miserable about doing another album?”
“Yes . . . I mean, no.” Gemma paused, capturing him with a flash of her emerald eyes. “I love what we do. More than anything. I’m struggling with the fact that we’re wasting our talent. Struggling to be honest with myself . . . and as an artist.”
Her words packed a punch to his guts. When was the last time he was honest with himself? Seeing Gemma and Hunter together was no less painful than before. His feelings for her still simmered below the surface. Her passion for music and her ambition reflected his own—they were just on different time schedules. He was patient; she was a cannon, ready to fire. “I promise, Gem, we will record our own album one day. But for now, we’ve got our hands tied.”
“Don’t get down in the dumps, Gem. We haven’t heard the tracks yet. I’m sure they’ll be awesome. There’ll be nothing to worry about.” Hunter gave him a please-change-the-subject kind of look.
Kyle nodded and quickly scrolled through his emails and caught sight of the one he’d flagged. “Gem, when we were away last week, did you read the email from SureHaven that Grant Entertainment Group has put in an acquisition bid?”
“Yeah, what’s that—”
Amie burst through the door without knocking. “How’s my favorite rock stars?” She dumped her pile of folders onto the table, flicked her bangs out of her eyes, and jammed her hands onto her hips.
“We were discussing the Grant acquisition.” Kyle watched her to gauge her reaction.
“Oh, that.” Amie brushed the comment aside and tugged on the cuffs of her business shirt. “If it happens, it happens.”
But the hairs at the base of Kyle’s neck prickled. Something wasn’t right.
“If Grant does take over it’s a good thing.” Amie placed her hands on the table and bent forward, giving Hunter an eyeful of cleavage. “It means we all stand to get what we want. New contracts. New deals. More market domination . . . and I like dominating.”
Kyle saw a glint in her eye. An evil smile tugged at the corners of her derma-filled lips, sending a shiver up his spine. She was their manager and supposed to be on their side, but her arrogance was getting harder and harder to tolerate. If she wasn’t so good at what she did, he’d be up for a new manager in an instant.
Amie collected her belongings and turned toward the door. “We have a big day ahead of us so let’s get a move on. The sooner we get through demos, the sooner we get you into the studio and the sooner I make more money out of you. Let’s move it.”
***
Crammed into one of the sound studios, Kyle sat at the small oval table, taking notes, listening to demo after demo. Hunter lay on the couch at the rear of the room, Gemma sat with her cast stretched out at the control panel alongside two of their producers—Zac and Tommy. Amie and Jeremy, one of the senior executives and head of production at SureHaven Records, sat at the table across from Kyle.
Kyle kept his head down, concentrating on the raw tracks, acoustic guitar riffs, electric beats, and page after page after page of lyrics printed out before him.
“This would be so much easier if it was our own material,” Gemma mumbled for at least the fourth time in the past hour.
Jeremy leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Got a problem with something, Gemma?”
“Yes. In the discussion we had earlier about the direction for our new album, you agreed we could aim for a much grittier sound. But all these tracks are disco pop, R’n’B or way too rappy. They’re not what we’re about. If you’d listen to more of our own songs, you would see they’re exactly what you’re looking for.”
Jeremy wheezed when he inhaled. Kyle glanced up from his notes and saw Jeremy’s huge belly swell like a helium balloon. “I appreciate your input, Gemma, but we know what sells. We’ve already invested a lot of time and money into producing and selecting these demos. And you are getting some tracks onto the album. I’d be happy, if I were you.”
“Yes, but—”
“I know you are talented musicians.” Jeremy firm tone cut like a guillotine. “You wouldn’t be signed otherwise. I’m sure you’re well aware that a lot more goes into marketing an album than just writing a catchy tune. Do you have issues with your current contractual obligations, Ms. Lonsdale?” Jeremy’s hard edge made Kyle stop doodling on his paper. He’d never seen Jeremy be so short with them before. He usually loved their music, suggesting changes and tweaks to demo tracks so they could make them their own, but today he was as harsh as the Great Basin Desert. “We’ve some of the best songwriters and producers in the country wanting to work with you, but if you don’t like it, there are many other artists out there”—he waved his hand toward the door—“who’d be willing to take your place.”
Kyle’s heart pounded in his chest. Was Jeremy threatening them? Why? Where was this coming from? He was their advocate and had been part of the A&R – Artists and Repertoire – team that had signed them before he moved into to production. Was he just having a bad day? Whatever the case, their lives at SureHaven depended on Jeremy more than anyone. He held too much power and could influence the CEO’s decisions with a click of his fingers. With Everhide wanting to start negotiations for a new contract soon, Kyle didn’t want to get Jeremy off-side.
It was time to intervene.
Kyle swung around to face Gemma. “Gem,” he whispered harshly. “Not now. Please stop. Now’s not the time for this discussion. And you know that.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head sternly and worry flashed across her face. She sucked in a deep breath, pulled her shoulders back, and gave him a subtle nod.
“Sorry, Jeremy.” Gemma’s lips twitched. Her fists clenched in her lap. “I’m not upset with our contract. Everything’s fine.”
Seeing Gemma lie speared Kyle’s chest. The past few months had been nothing but lies. But this was work and they had to bend to SureHaven’s demands for a while longer.
“I just don’t like any of the demos we’ve heard so far,” Gemma said. “Let’s hope we can find some tracks we all agree on.”
“Excellent idea.” Hunter groaned, sitting up on the sofa and stretched his arms over his head. “Next track. Hit it.”
Zac, one of the producers, pressed play on the control panel.
A bob-diddy-bop-bop song blared from the speakers.
“Oh, come on. That’s not us.” Kyle cringed at the sweet poppy tune. “It sounds like 80s disco.”
“Kyle, it’s a demo.” Jeremy tugged at his shirt collar. “You can add your own edge to it when you hit the studio. But at the end of the day, we need to produce something that sells.”
“I understand that, Jeremy. But that was fucking terrible.” Kyle pointed at the lit-up panel.
Gemma threw Jeremy an I-told-you-so glare, and Hunter nodded in agreement.
Zac played the next track.
“Ew . . . that’s even worse.” Gemma shuddered but mimicked the high notes perfectly, like Sia singing “Chandelier”.
The next rap song made Hunter slice his hand back and forth in front of his neck to cut the track before it finished.
Kyle grinned. The three of them were so in tune when it came to music. It was the one thing they never failed to agree on.
The next track, “Light Up the World,” was one of their own, and one of Kyle’s favorites. The first few notes played and goose bumps tingled his arm. He and Gemma wrote this song late one night after a tour rehearsal. They’d been out at the warehouse to practice on their constructed stage set for the first time. With the backdrop shaped like the Manhattan skyline, LED projection screens and lights flooding the platforms, the three of them had been looking forward to performing in front of thousands of fans.
Gemma clapped and her eyes sparkled. She reached over in front of Zac and turned the volume up on the control panel. She stood and sang. Kyle’s heart swelled listening to her bold voice filling the air. For someone so petite, she could pelt out a tune and transformed into a shining light when she sang. Everyone fell transfixed, completely under her spell.
When the night,
Comes over me,
I see your light,
Strobe to the beat.
I hear your heart,
Pound next to mine,
Just take my hand,
And move in time.
With me, with me, with me.
So let me make,
Love to you tonight,
You call my name,
It feels so right,
Together, we’ll light up the world.
Kyle’s skin tingled with every note she sang. This song was exactly how he felt about Gemma; he could do anything with her by his side. She smiled and motioned for him and Hunter to join in. In perfect sync, they began.
Like the sky,
Full of stars,
You shine so bright,
And steal my heart.
You showed me how,
To breathe again,
Just take my hand,
And feel my skin.
Touch me, touch me, touch me.
So let me make,
Love to you tonight,
You call my name,
Everything’s all right,
Together we’ll light up the world.
There’s no place I’d rather be,
Than here with you standing next to me.
Together, we’ll light up the world.
Kyle high-fived Gemma and Hunter at the end of the song. This is what Kyle had to remember. He may never have Gemma in his bed, but he would always be able to make music with her. That was what would drive him. That was the key to moving on.
“Nailed it.” Hunter pointed his fingers in front of Jeremy’s face.
Kyle turned to Jeremy, who had a we’re-going-to-make-so-much-fucking-money-it’s-insane look smeared across his face. Amie stared at Hunter with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Zac and Tommy held their breaths waiting for Jeremy to speak.
Jeremy leaned back on his chair and stroked his graying goatee. “I think it’s fair to say I like this one.”
“Yes.” Gemma pumped her fist in the air. “Kyle, we did it. We got one.” Her eyes connected with his. Warm air enveloped him like an invisible embrace. For a split second, the pause between two beats, the rest of the world didn’t exist. Just her and him. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to breathe—he just wanted to stay in this moment with her. Music would always connect her to him. And therefore, she would always be his reason for living. Jeremy moved restlessly at the table and cleared his throat. It gave Kyle the reminder he needed to get on with business. He turned to Zac. “Right. Next track.”
After eight long hours of discussions, arguments, tracks being played and replayed, jotting down pages of notes and scribbling suggested lyric changes, they’d come up with thirty songs to take into the studio in four weeks.
That was when the three of them would work their magic and make the songs their own.
Gemma stood and stretched her legs. Hunter yawned and Kyle rubbed his tired eyes.
“Great job, everyone.” Amie massaged her shoulders. “But before we call it a day, there are a few quick items on my agenda to discuss.” She waved her red, manicured nails at him, Hunter and Gemma.
“I’ll leave you to it, I have a flight to catch. Kyle, Gemma, Hunter, let’s make another cracker album.” Jeremy shook their hands, gathered his belongings, and left the room with the producers.
Gemma and Hunter came over to the table and fell into chairs beside Kyle. It was only seven o’clock in the evening, but all Kyle wanted to do was go home to bed.
“First,” Amie said, “I’ve scheduled rehearsals for your performance at the Billboard Awards. It’s four weeks until Vegas. Gemma, let’s pray your cast is off in time.”
“I had a checkup and X-ray last week. I’m on track to get it off in three weeks. But what if it’s not? I can’t go jumping around on stage.”
“You’ll be fine, babe.” Hunter rubbed her shoulder.
“I’m counting on it.” Amie didn’t even bother to look up from her tablet. “We’ve got final set designs through. You’re the headline act, opening with “Escape”.”
“Really?” Kyle’s voice caught in his throat. “We usually perform that trackmoving about the stage. Can we change it to accommodate Gem’s leg?”
“Escape” their party anthem was full of energy and always got the crowd pumping.
“It’s our biggest hit off our last album.” Hunter’s tone went up a notch and turned in Kyle’s direction. “It won’t be the same if we just stand at the mics and sing.”
“Gem may not be able to walk properly by then,” Kyle snapped.
“He’s right, Hunt.” Gemma folded her arms, disappointment clouding her eyes. “Even with physio it’s going to take a while to get my strength back.”
Hunter screwed up his nose. “You won’t need physio.”
“Yes . . . I will.” She glared at him, her lips drawn into a thin line.
“Hey,” Amie interjected. “There are dancers and props we have to work with as well. We’ll sort out everything during rehearsals. I just want to get the three of you back on stage as soon as possible.”
“Thank you.” Gemma folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. “At least someone here gives a shit.”
Kyle smirked. He doubted if Amie cared. Her only concern was to make sure Everhide were performing and bringing in the bucks.
“One last thing,” Amie said. “Tonight at ten o’clock, I have to go and see a new band called Pina. SureHaven are interested in signing them, and this band could be a potential support act for your next tour. I know it’s been a long day, but I’ve got a spare ticket. Who’d like to come?”
“I’ll go,” Hunter replied.
Kyle’s head snapped in Hunter’s direction. Hunter barely had time to draw a breath before he’d responded. Ping-ponging his gaze between Amie and Hunter, Kyle’s skin crawled like a thousand spiders were scuttling down his spine.
What was with those two lately? The looks, the gazes, the smiles these two exchanged. Kyle had noticed it on their trip last week, but thought he was imagining things. Was there more to the flirtatious comments over morning coffees, the arm nudged when they talked, the sitting close to one another? Surely not. He rubbed his tired forehead, trying to erase his irrational thoughts. This outing was for business. Just business. There was nothing more to it.
“Fine by me.” Kyle gathered up his gear and stuffed it into his backpack.
“Well, I’m out. I’m nothing but a security hazard with my leg still in a cast. You go, Hunt.” Gemma packed her things, grabbed her crutches, and got ready to leave.
But Kyle kept his eyes on Amie and Hunter. They exchanged barely-there glances and tiny smiles. Amie’s cheekbones bore too much color and Hunter had that predatory glint in his eyes. Kyle’s stomach clenched. He hoped this was the work of his overactive imagination. But until proven otherwise, he’d be watching those two like a lion stalking its prey. Because Gemma was and always would be his number-one concern.