Page 1 of Rebel
PROLOGUE
“Scandal has shaken the rock world once again, with Beck Danvers’ surprise departure in the middle of a Dead Ringers performance at Warped Tour. Beck, the new lead singer, was on a sold-out world tour with the infamous bad-boy band when she suddenly stormed off stage and didn’t reappear. So far, three dates have been canceled, and there’s no news from the band?—”
“Beck Danvers, the drama queen?—”
“Dead Ringers, who are no strangers to drama, have once again made headlines with spoiled singer Beck Danvers. The mysterious new lead singer landed them in hot water?—”
“The question is, will the band ever recover from this? Will Beck Danvers come back for one last melody, or is she rebelling?”
Scoffing, I turn the TV off and recline on the cheap motel bed. If they only knew the truth about me.
If they only knew Beck Danvers doesn’t exist.
If they only knew I am a fraud, just like my bandmates know now.
ONE
“Ican’t deal with another fucking audition, man. They are all useless.”
“Rude,” Trav interjects.
“But true.” Kolton nods, drumming his fingers on the sticky wooden table. “They’ve been okay, but not showstopping worthy. We need raw talent, the voice to match our own, or?—”
“We’re fucked,” I conclude as I lean back, slinging my arm over the back of my chair. “Nobody wants to be our singer after the shit show that’s our history, and I can’t fucking blame them. We are dead in the goddamn water, and if we don’t find someone soon, our label will pull their offer and we’ll just be some washed-up rock band who could have made it big.”
“If they stayed out of trouble,” Trav mutters, shooting me a side-eye.
Swallowing hard against my guilt, I incline my head, about to apologize once again, when the sound of a throat clearing has us all jerking our heads up to check out the stage. We were so lost in our own shit, we didn’t even hear the next audition take to the tiny black stage in the bar we are using. We get free drinks because the manager has a crush on me, which reminds me. I need to throw her a fuck in gratitude—not something I do anymore but it’s necessary. I have a lot to make up for with my bandmates.
My eyes finally adjust to the bright spotlight again, and my jaw actually drops at the woman standing there, ready to audition. Her blonde hair hangs in waves past her hips, and her brown eyes pop from her thick eyeliner, contrasting nicely with her bright purple lips and pale skin. She’s tall, almost as tall as me, with huge boots that buckle to her knees. She wears a ragged band T-shirt made into a dress, with the sides of her boobs clearly on display. Tattoos are spread across her skin like a storybook.
She’s fucking stunning, and she knows it.
“Well, are you ready, or should I wait for your little huddle to finish?” she deadpans.
I feel my cheeks heat.
Who the fuck is this woman?
I must say it out loud because one dark eyebrow arches as Kolton and Trav shoot me a dirty look. “Name’s Beck Danvers. Now, shall I sing, or are you going to keep trying to shoot your eyes through my shirt to see if I’m wearing a bra?”
“Well, are you?” I ask, flirting coming naturally as I lay my arm across my chair with a cocky smirk I’ve perfected—the one that makes every woman wet and mine. She simply rolls her eyes.
Interesting.
I do like a fight. An elbow hits my gut, making me double over. I turn my glare to Kolt and see him glaring right back. “No,” he tells me before smiling warmly at her.
“What will you be singing today?”
“‘Cherry Bomb,’” Beck replies, shooting me another stink eye. “Unless that’s an issue.”
“How cliché.” I groan, disappointed. “Listen, babe, if you’re here to get close to me, fine, leave your number, and when I have time or I’m bored, I’ll call you. This is a serious audition?—”
“How about you shut the fuck up for once, Chase Reed. and listen to me sing? I sure as shit didn’t drive five hundred miles to have two minutes in your van, which would probably be the worst two minutes of my life.”
My mouth snaps shut in shock as Kolt and Trav double over in laughter.
“Oh, I like her,” Trav says.