“Moonlight Falls,” Vanessa repeats the town’s name. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“River Jennings, the country star, comes from there,” Jackson informs Vanessa.
“That’s right,” she says, shaking her head.
“Moonlight Falls is a brilliant town. Everly knows everyone. They also don’t give a shit about celebrities either,” Jackson states.
“When River goes home, he’s never bothered. They leave him alone,” I add.
“That sounds amazing. The last thing we need is a town full of groupies or paparazzi,” Vanessa observes.
“Maybe hanging out in cowboy country might turn these boys into men.” Christian chuckles.
“The men in the town won’t tolerate rock star egos,” I explain with a smile. My mind wanders to Hendrix and seeing him try to square up against a cowboy from Moonlight Falls. He would fail miserably, and that would take that inflated ego down a couple of notches.
“Are you suggesting they stay at your family home? Would your family be okay with it?” Vanessa asks.
“Yes. My parents are living in Europe for the summer, and when they come back, they will probably settle in LA for a bit. They will be happy for someone to use it.”
“The guys could get back to nature … cutting firewood, cooking, and cleaning for themselves.” Jackson chuckles.
“Love it. It’s like what we did when I bought our Big Bear place,” Christian states.
“The label would pay your parents to use it,” Vanessa says seriously.
“Knowing my parents, they will not take a single cent.”
My parents had contemplated selling the ranch because it was too much for them to look after, but I begged them not to. Instead, they hired a house manager to take care of it for them so that if I ever wanted to use it, it would always be ready. My sister, Faith, still lives in Moonlight Falls but is on the other side and has her own ranch. Charlie lives in LA and has created a life for himself there. He’d only come back for a holiday, not full-time. That leaves me the only one who would pack up and move to Moonlight Falls, but there isn’t much call for an accountability coach in Montana.
“If everything is okay with your family letting us use your ranch, you’ll take on The Lost Boys? You’ll try to give it your best shot to turn them around,” Vanessa asks eagerly, with hope written all over her face.
“Yes. I’ll do it,” I say, and moments later, Vanessa is engulfing me in a tight hug.
“Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to us.”
I hope I don’t let the Dirty Texas guys down. I want The Lost Boys to succeed, and I’ll do everything in my power to achieve it.
CHAPTER 8
Hendrix
The damn paparazzi are camped out the front of the label’s headquarters. We were able to dodge them all weekend, but I guess our luck has run out. Fucking vultures.
“Fuck that bitch for making our lives worse,” Eli seethes as our car drives through the gate to the back entrance of Dirty Texas Records.
“I’m going to miss that bitch’s mouth, though,” Zeke adds with a chuckle.
I punch Zeke in the arm for his crassness.
“Ouch, you fucker,” he says, rubbing his arm.
We get out of the car and head into the building, where we are having a meeting with the team. Apparently, they have some news for us. I am not sure yet if it’s good or bad.
“We should have never put ourselves in that fucking situation. Getting so fucked up that someone could take advantage of us. We never would have done this shit when we were younger. We would never have let ourselves be put in a situation like that.” I curse as we step into the elevator.
“You didn’t care when her mouth was wrapped around your dick,” Eli states simply as he presses the button to the level we need to go.
“I’m sorry I care that all of this could be gone in a fucking instant,” I remark dryly, waving my hand around the elevator.
The boys still and glare.
“Everything we worked so hard for could be gone because of our stupidity. Everything Brodie worked hard for—”
“Don’t bring Brodie into this,” Eli demands coldly.
“As if the label would drop us. They invited us to their home.” Zeke scoffs.
“That means nothing. Did you even read the fucking contracts? They can terminate it if we are in breach. Us not having the second album completed is … in … breach,” I stress angrily at him.
“Shit!” Eli swears quietly.
“But it’s extenuating circumstances,” Zeke moans out his excuse as the elevator doors open.
We step out into the main reception area and head toward the conference room, where everyone is waiting for us.
“How long are we going to use Brodie’s death to justify our behavior?” I ask them honestly.
Both stop, turn and stare at me, surprised by my comment. It’s the fucking truth, though. Have they read what people are saying about us online? Even our own fans are asking us to work out our shit.
“How fucking dare you!” Zeke growls as he charges at me, catching me off guard. He grabs my T-shirt in his fists and pushes me up against the wall. “He was our fucking brother. We loved him. And he loved us.”
“He’s dead, Zeke. If he loved us, he wouldn’t have fucking died. He chose to get on his bike. He chose to speed. He wanted to die. He wished this upon himself. He wanted to teach me a lesson,” I scream back at him.
“You are a fucking asshole,” Zeke swears as his eyes widen with anger, then he punches me square in the jaw.
Fuck, that hurt.
He lays his fists into me repeatedly. The tears fall down his cheeks as he screams for saying all those things about our brother.
I don’t defend myself. Instead, I slump against the wall, letting each punch’s pain infiltrate my body.
I deserve this.
I’m the reason Brodie’s dead.
Me.
I deserve everything Zeke is dishing out. I need it to numb the pain inside my chest. The big gaping hole that Brodie created when he died.
“He fucking loved you,” Zeke screams at me.
“Get the fuck off him,” Christian screams down the corridor, right before Jackson comes barreling in, ripping Zeke off me.
Blood is pouring from my nose and lip. I can feel the bruises blooming under my skin as I blink furiously, trying to regain my vision.
“What the fuck is going on?” Christian stares at each of us.
“Family disagreement,” Eli states coolly.
“Nothing is this bad that you would want to fight with your brother like that. This is the time you should band together, not be ripping each other apart,” Christian spits angrily.
“You have no idea how bad it is.” Zeke pants, trying hard to catch his breath.
“Attacking each other will not solve it either,” Jackson says, shaking his head in disappointment.
“Sure made me feel good.” Zeke sneers angrily at me.
“Not much of a fair fight when only one person’s fighting,” Jackson quips back.
Zeke huffs and grumbles at Jackson’s comment.
“Come with me, boy,” Christian says, pulling me by my T-shirt and shoving me into the visitor’s bathroom situated off the corridor we were standing in. “Clean yourself up. We have places to be,” he says angrily before slamming the door shut, rattling on its hinges.