Page 2 of The Road to Forever (Beaumont: Next Generation #7)

TWO

T he door to the studio opens. Ajay Ballard and Keane Sandoval walk in.

Ajay is the drummer of my band, Sinful Distraction.

Well, it’s technically the band Elle put together with the assumption I would be in it.

Keane plays the piano and keyboard, depending on what the song calls for.

He’s also a single dad to his kickass daughter, Chandler.

She tours with us, and she reminds me a lot of the twins when they were growing up on the road.

Ajay plays the air drums as he walks by me, heading straight for his kit. He sits down, starts playing, stops to write something down, and starts banging a beat again.

Keane sits on the stool next to me.

“What gives?” I ask, motioning toward Ajay.

Keane sighs. “He had a dream about a song, played it out the entire way here, and wants to get it down before he forgets. Jamie wouldn’t let him play it in the house. James has the flu or something and has been keeping her up at night. Evelyn stayed at our place last night.”

“Geez,” I say as I look over my shoulder at Ajay, who’s focused on his task.

The door opens again, and Dana Cantu walks in.

She and Keane stare at each other for longer than normal.

I don’t know what’s going on with them, but there’s definitely something.

At least I think there is. But what the hell do I know?

I can’t even keep my girl happy at home.

After she said she needed to study, I thought she’d come to bed eventually, but I woke up this morning to an empty bed and house.

I had to look at the cameras to see when she left and then wondered why she didn’t wake me up.

I don’t want to continue to harp on her about the little things. She said she had a test this morning, so I’m going to assume her mind is where it should be and not worried about my hurt ego. Nola needs to focus. Finishing school is important to her, and it needs to be important to me as well.

I strum my guitar and then look at Keane, who still has his eyes on Dana. She’s our lead singer and resident rocker. She reminds me a lot of Gwen Stefani, with platinum blond hair, long fingernails, and a voice everyone recognizes.

Again, I look over my shoulder and then back at Keane. “Is there something going on with you and Dana?”

Keane’s head turns slowly, almost like one of those wind-up toys that doesn’t really work anymore. “What? No.”

I chuckle. “Are you sure? Because it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself of it.”

Keane shakes his head. “No, nothing is going on.” He sighs. “I’m attracted to her, but she doesn’t know it, and I’m fighting it because the last thing I need or want is a band hook-up. Especially with us going on tour and Chandler being with us.”

“Hendrix will lose his shit,” I say of Hendrix Brandt, our last band member who also plays the guitar. Hendrix is his nickname because he can riff like Jimi Hendrix. To this day, I have no idea what his real name is. Whenever any of us ask, he just tells us it’s Hendrix and always has been.

“That’s the one thing I know for sure; Dana is over him.”

“Does he know that?” I ask Keane, who shakes his head.

“Hendrix believes they’re soul mates and she’ll come back to him.”

I know what that’s like, to believe in a soul mate. Nola’s mine. At least I think she is.

Keane turns to face me. “Is Nola ready for the tour?”

“She’s not going,” I tell him, filling him in on why. “We’ll meet up in SC and get married, though. So that’ll be nice. We’re just going to have our parents there, and then we’ll figure out the big celebration after she graduates.”

“Congrats, man.”

“Thanks, just don’t mention it to my sister. She has enough on her plate right now.”

“How’s Ben doing?”

“Good,” I say. “They’re planning their wedding now.”

“Chandler is hoping for an invite,” Keane said, laughing. I have no idea who they have on their guest list. Knowing Elle, everyone she’s ever met will be invited because she likes presents. But then again, I can also see her having a family-only celebration.

“Should I tell her you want a plus one?” I waggle my eyebrows at Keane, who blushes.

“Chandler would be my plus one.”

“Maybe there’s someone she wants to bring.”

Keane shakes his head. “I’m not even close to ready to let her date or even entertain anyone coming around to court her. Thankfully, we’re only in the tween stage of life. I have another couple of years before someone knocks on the door.”

“Court her?” I begin to laugh and then stop. There was a time when I thought I would have to court Nola after I met her family. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to care for the dating habits that her parents and grandparents practiced.

Maybe that’s where I made a mistake.

“I don’t even know what they call it these days,” Keane says as he runs his hand over his face. “Lately, I get ‘we’re just talking,’ which I think is dating, but I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, sorry. I can’t help you. Maybe JD or Liam can help since they’re raising teenagers.”

Keane bends over laughing. “JD’s answer is to tweet everything.”

I shake my head. I know for a fact Eden has repeatedly told her father to stay off social media. Nothing good comes from any of the apps, and while I know they’re a necessary evil for marketing, they’re the last place I want to be.

“JD is so set in his ways and still thinks he’s ‘in the know’ when it comes to apps. The only people he’s reaching on that app probably don’t know who 4225 West are.”

Keane snorts with laughter. “You’re so right.”

The door opens again, and the trio from Plum walk in.

I’ve worked with them quite a bit on their album, and they’ll open for us on tour.

It’ll be our second time touring with them, but this time it’ll be longer.

I hope they’ll be able to cope with living on a tour bus for months. It’s definitely not easy.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Justine says as she comes over to us. “Quinn, can we jam later?”

She’s funny. I’ve told her before jamming is what we do when we’re hanging out; at least that’s what it is to me. What she wants to do is practice.

Justine is having a bit of trouble staying in time with the music, and I think it’s because she’s watching my fingers instead of listening to the output. I’ve told her to just sing, and I’ll take care of the rest, but she lacks confidence.

“Sure,” I tell her. “Might as well utilize everyone while we’re here.”

Justine nods and runs to catch up with her bandmates.

“She’s too shy for this business,” Keane says.

“Yep, but she can sing.”

“Elle has you working with her a lot.”

I nod. “I don’t mind. Plum is going to skyrocket with this new album. It’s really good.”

“That's if people hear it,” he says. “Radio play is so iffy these days. It's all about streaming.”

“I have writing credit on most of the songs, and I’m singing on a couple. Liam sings on one as well. Elle will make sure the tracks end up on our channels to increase Plum’s streams.”

“Smart.”

I nod. “Elle has it figured out. I think.”

“Great. Now she can get us some Grammy nominations and a performance; we’ll be all set.”

I laugh but am totally in agreement. “I’ll tell her.”

Hendrix finally arrives, and we’re able to get to work. We have a general idea of what songs we want to play on tour and need enough to fill our set of two hours.

“Elle’s not here today, so it’s just us making the decisions,” I tell them. “Take a sheet of paper and write down which songs you think we should play. I’ll give Elle your suggestions and let her figure out the set."

"How long is our show?” Dana asks.

“Full set is five hours. Talking Til Dawn starts off with thirty minutes and then there’s a half hour break before Plum comes on for their hour long show, an hour intermission for set change, and then we’ll be on at approximately nine.”

“The average is six songs per thirty minutes?” Keane added.

“Do we have eighteen songs?” Hendrix asks.

“Do you have anything positive to say?” Dana retorts.

I roll my eyes and think back to when I told Elle that I did not want to be in a band because of this type of crap. She promised me there wouldn’t be any drama, but here we are, Hendrix and Dana always fighting.

It boggles my mind that Hendrix pines after Dana. She’s made it very clear they are nothing but bandmates. Not even friends at this point. Whatever they had is over and continues to be over, but he swears they’re meant to be.

I get it because that’s how I feel about Nola, and I would probably fight my ass off to save our relationship. But if she told me we were done, I’d accept it and go on my way. There’s no point in begging for someone’s attention who doesn’t want to give it.

Before they can get deep into an argument, I speak up. “Yes, we have eighteen solid songs to play.”

I wait to see if Hendrix has something to say.

When he doesn’t, I make a mental note to talk to him later and see where his head is at.

This was his band long before I came in, but I’m here at the request of my sister—the manager—and don’t really care to stay if I’m not wanted or if Hendrix isn’t going to take things seriously.

Something tells me if I were to leave, Keane, Ajay, and probably Dana would follow.

I would really hate to break up Sinful Distraction, but I can’t be a part of something that isn’t fully supported by everyone.

“Here’s my list,” Ajay says as he brings his sheet of paper over. I fold it into fours and stick it in my pocket. I don’t need to see what anyone has put down; that’s for Elle. Ajay goes back to his kit and begins playing again.

“Do you have lyrics for this tune?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Not really. Like I can hear something, but it’s jumbled.”

“I’ll work with you later if you want,” I say. “Maybe it’s something we can debut on tour.”

Ajay’s smile brightens the room. “I’d like that.”

Despite my feelings about being in a band, I have to admit this is the benefit of being in one, being able to collaborate with your mates to create amazing music.

Dana finishes her list, and I do the same with it as I did with Ajay’s. Keane is next, and then mine. No one is surprised when Hendrix is last. He gives me his, already folded, and I slip it in my pocket with the others.

Hendrix picks up his guitar and plugs it into the amp.

I fully expect him to start jamming, whether or not the rest of us are ready.

He keeps the volume low and begins strumming.

I wish we were closer, and we could sit down and talk about what’s bothering him, but we’re not.

I think it’s more than Dana giving him the cold shoulder.

We finally start practice with the few songs we know we’ll play on the tour.

Dana takes the mic while I continue to sit on the stool.

Eventually, we’ll rent some stage space and go through the ins and outs of the tour.

Luckily for us, Dana’s hot. She can do whatever she wants on stage while the rest of us play.

She will dance around, headbang, and move in between us without losing any momentum.

Honestly, we’re lucky she graces us with her presence.

Halfway through practice, Nola texts me.

Nola

When will you be home?

In a couple of hours. What’s up?

Nola

Okay, staying at school to study.

I hold my phone, staring at the screen. She’s never stayed at school to study, and if she has, she’s never told me. I don’t know why it bothers me, but it does.

“Everything okay?” Dana asks. I glance at her. She’s standing there, holding the mic and stand, waiting for me.

“Sorry,” I mumble and slip my phone back into my pocket. I can’t let what’s going on at home affect me at work. If I do, I hurt the band, and that’s not fair to them.