Page 57 of Fame And Secrets
Chapter Twenty-One
Julian
“Time to turn the volume up in the car, people.” Stone Acer pointed a finger at the program director across the glass partition, signaling the interview had begun. “Coming at you live from Seattle, this is your main man, Stone, waking you java heads up with two members of one of the hottest groups to hit the metal scene in years. These guys signed with Circa Records less than eight months ago, and three hits from their debut album, Immortal, have already topped the charts at number one. In the studio with me now, I’ve got lead guitarist, Zane Tierney, and front man, Julian Bale, from Lords of Lyre.” Adjusting his headset, the heavyset disc jockey nodded in our direction. I assumed that was my cue to make my presence known.
“Hi, glad to be here, Stone. The one with the shitty piss-face is Zane, and I’m Julian. I hope you have an industrial sized coffee pot around here, because damn, it’s early.”
I found self-deprecation always worked well as an ice breaker.
“I think he covered that in the introduction, Jagger,” Zane grumbled, less than thrilled to be on live radio. The dude made statements through his guitar, not a microphone. If I had a dollar for every finger he’d flipped me since we’d entered the building, I’d be well on my way to paying next month’s mortgage.
The flight to Seattle had been uneventful. Zane slept the entire trip. I alternated staring out of the tiny window and studying the new platinum band occupying the third finger of my left hand.
I’m married.
The thought made me smile like a fucking idiot, as well as scared the shit out of me. I finally had what I wanted, then turned around and left it like a flashing spotlight—pointing the way for a madman to step in with my back turned.
Or three hours away.
Fuck. My. Life.
Scowling, I glared at Zane and turned my attention back to the deejay, who’d been watching our exchange with detached amusement.
“Jagger?” Stone raised an eyebrow with an unremorseful gleam in his eye. “I sense a story there.”
Zane and I spoke into our microphones at the same time.
“No,” I clipped.
“You got that right.” Zane grinned wickedly.
Groaning into my mic, I kicked Zane in his shin under the table. “No, there isn’t. Zane is just still drunk from the in-flight service…and he’s an asshole.”
I had no intention of explaining on satellite radio that the band nicknamed me Jagger because they claimed I used to get more pussy than Mick Jagger. The name became obsolete the day I met Phoebe, anyway. I hadn’t looked at another woman since she stumbled into my life, much less touched one.
Settling comfortably in front of my mic, I spoke with ease, ready to get the acoustic set over and head back to the airport. “Thank you for having us, Stone. This whole West Coast thing is new for us, but Seattle has been great. The fans here are amazing.” I quickly continued, refusing to give Stone an opportunity to ask questions. “Zane and I are proud to be representing Lords of Lyre. In case anyone out there hasn’t heard about us, we’re just a bunch of friends from New Jersey who got lucky. We get to do what we love, which is play metal and get paid for it.” I held my breath and prayed he didn’t bring up my fucked up stalker past.
Instead, he went for the jugular and zeroed in on my personal life.
“It’s no secret you had somewhat of a reputation as a ladies’ man, Julian.” He smirked as if he brought about some miraculous revelation.
“Aren’t most musicians?” I countered smugly.
“Point taken,” he said, nodding in acknowledgement. Then he dropped the hammer. “But most musicians don’t get their ghostwriters pregnant and move them cross-country. How is Miss Phoebe Ryan? And take your time answering because all our female listeners are busy supergluing their broken hearts back together.”
What a dick.
“I don’t know about all that, Stone.” I seriously wanted to throat punch him. “But, as far as Phoebe, she’s doing well, thanks for asking.”
Take the high road, Bale…
“That’s it?” he prodded.
“She’s healthy. The baby’s healthy, and we can’t wait for he or she to get here.”
“So, you don’t know the sex of the baby, or you’re not telling?”
“Are we gonna keep talking about Phoebe’s vagina or are we gonna jam?” Zane kicked his boots onto the table and curled his upper lip into a sneer. I flashed him a thankful glance across the table.