Taming the Storm (The Storm 3)

Singing is the only thing that makes sense to me. It’s my safe place. Nothing and no one can hurt me when I’m in that moment, singing the heart out of a song.

The music I’m all too familiar with comes into my ears, the delicious sound vibrating through my body, taking over my mind.

Parting my dry lips, I lick them and then ease out the first line of the song. I sing until my voice is climbing, hitting its high, and then I belt out the words until I’m wrung dry on the very last line.

Song done, I open my eyes.

Zane can’t have any complaints with that. It was flawless.

I pull the headphones off and step around the mic, expecting to see a full booth, but the only person I find in there is Gray.

Where is everyone?

I press the intercom button. “Where is everyone?”

Gray leans into the mic. “Conference room. Zane said you’re to go there the second you’re done.”

My stomach tanks.

Did he hate it? Jesus, I hate the nerves that come with trying to please studio executives.

“Did he say why?”

“Nope. He took a call and sounded all pissed off. Then, he told the guys to go with him to the conference room, and you were to follow straight after you finished.”

Feeling confused, I say, “Okay.”

“You did great by the way,” Gray says. “Perfect. I can lay the track with that, no problem. Come back later, and I’ll have it layered, so you can have a listen.”

“Thanks, Gray. Catch you later.” I let myself out of the sound booth before crossing the studio and going out the door.

I walk the short distance down the hall to the conference room. Three heads lift when I open the door. The look on their faces isn’t great, so I’m guessing whatever it is, they already know.

Zane is standing by the window. His face is devoid of emotion, like always, and his arms are folded across his chest.

His tense stance has me instantly worried.

“Everything okay?” I try to keep the nerves out of my voice. I pull out the chair next to Sonny and take a seat.

“Dina broke her leg this morning while skiing.” Zane straightens up and strides toward the table where we’re all seated. “I mean, seriously, who the fuck skis nowadays?” he mutters as he yanks a chair out and sits down.

I would actually laugh at his comment if the bottom hadn’t just fallen out of my world.

Dina is our manager. She was going to come on tour with us.

I have dreamed about this tour happening ever since I picked up my first guitar.

I know TMS Records policy—no tour manager, no tour.

They don’t let their acts go out with support, which makes total sense.

A new band on the road with no support is not a good idea with the amount of sharks in this industry.

I swallow down the house-sized brick in my throat. Dumb question, but I have to ask, “So, Dina won’t be coming on tour with us?”

Zane drums his fingers on the table. “No. She ruptured her anterior cruciate ligament. She’ll be having surgery in the next few days.”

“And we can’t go on tour without a road manager,” Cale says, looking at me.

He knows the house rules as well as I do. This is as important to him as it is to me. Important to us all.

I swallow down. “Okay, so what’s going to happen then?” I try to keep my voice steady, but it wavers slightly.

Don’t postpone the tour. Please don’t postpone the tour.

“The tour will still happen. Jake is currently trying to find a replacement manager to go on tour with you.”

Jake Wethers, owner of TMS Records and lead singer of the biggest band in the world, The Mighty Storm.

With relief, I exhale the breath I was holding.

But I come up short again when Van asks, “Yeah, but will you be able to get someone on such short notice?”

Shit. I didn’t even think of that. We are supposed to leave on tour in a week.

One week to find a good tour manager. I don’t feel good about those chances. Most tour managers, especially the good ones, will already be booked up.

Zane’s eyes dart to Van, narrowing. “We’ll get someone.” His tone is harsh. He stands. “I’ll be in touch soon.” Then, he strides out of the room.

A Few Seconds Later—Studio, TMS Records, LA

“Shit! This is not fucking good,” Sonny says the second the door slams shut behind Zane.

“It’s gonna be fine. Don’t worry.” I pat Sonny’s hand, hoping that I sound more convinced than I feel.

“But how the hell is he gonna get a manager? Fucking impossible, if you ask me,” Sonny fires out.

“He’ll get us someone,” Cale says, sounding sure.

Sonny shakes his head. “I don’t know, man.”

“Cale and Ly are right.” Van stands. “He’ll get us another manager.”

Sonny throws him a confused look. “What? You’ve changed your tune. A few minutes ago, you were the one asking him the same goddamn question.”

Van shrugs. “Zane might be a jackoff, but he said he’ll get someone, and we have to trust him.”

Looking at Van and then Cale, I wish I could feel as sure as they do, but I don’t. I feel the same worry as Sonny. I’m just not vocalizing it. I’m doing what I do best, hiding my feelings and avoiding the problem.

“Screw waiting around to hear the news though. I’m gonna hit up some bars.” Van raps his knuckles on the table. “You guys coming?”