Blessed Fate (Blessed Tragedy)
Blessed Fate by HB Heinzer
Text copyright © 2013 by H.B. Heinzer
Interior Design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
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All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
All rights reserved.
Also by H. B. Heinzer
Bent (Back to Brooklyn #1)
Blessed Tragedy (Blessed Tragedy #1)
Coming Soon
Breaking the Rules (Back to Brooklyn #2)—Sept. 2013
Blessed Chance (Blessed Tragedy #3)—Dec. 2013
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
This book is dedicated to all the musicians out there who give up a piece of themselves for our entertainment. When you make it to the big-time, it's hard to maintain a division between the artist in the studio and on stage versus the person with a life outside the music industry. Thank you for being willing to deal with the fish bowl you live in...
"Okay guys, you need to have an open mind," Travis warned.
We had been sitting around his crappy studio apartment for the better part of three days, trying to figure out what we could do to get more gigs. Our band, Blessed Tragedy, had a loyal following at Wilson's Pub, but we all knew it was time to branch out a bit.
Jon and I looked at one another and shrugged. At that point, I didn't think there was anything we wouldn't try if it meant we would be able to make our mark on the world. Okay, so that might have been a bit dramatic, but if you're gonna dream, you gotta go big.
"Lay it on me, Trav," Jon said, leaning forward on the ratty sofa left over from the seventies.
Travis picked up his cell phone and sent a quick text while grabbing another round of beers out of the fridge. "Okay, so I've been thinking. We've got a good thing going here, but we need to change it up. And I think I have just the thing."
About that time, there was a light knock on the door. Travis opened it slowly, saying something to the person on the other side. He looked back to us and swung the door wide open. "Guys, meet Rain."
I had no clue what Travis was thinking, but standing next to him was a beautiful girl who looked utterly terrified. If she worked at the ring in her lower lip much harder with her teeth I was worried she would rip it right out. Between that and the way she was twirling a lock of bright red hair around her finger, I couldn't help but wonder if she really wanted to be standing there.
"Hi," she said, her voice barely over a whisper, her eyes fixed on a stain in Travis' carpet.
"Rain, meet Jon and Colton. They're the assholes I was telling you about," Travis said, pointing to each of us. "Guys, you have got to hear this girl sing. I really think that if we rearrange some of our current stuff, she's gonna kill it up there."
Rain crossed her arms tightly in front of her chest. "I never said I was going to do it. I said I'd come over and see what was going on," she said sharply. Even though she was nervous around us, I could tell from the way she snapped at Travis that she was feisty. I liked that and hoped the day would come when she felt comfortable enough around me and Jon that I could make a point to push her buttons.
"I know, I know. But, you need a band and we need a change. It's a win-win. You'll see." Jon glared at Travis, appearing more than a little put off by him taking control on such an important decision. Although we had formed the band together four years ago, Jon had always been at the forefront of all of our decisions.
Jon stood and made his way across the tiny living room in three long strides. "Nice to meet you." It took her a minute to take in the sight of Jon and I didn't blame her. He towered over her. The scowl that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face intimidated me, and I had known him a hell of a long time. "Come, grab a beer," he said, motioning her further into the apartment.
Jon handed her the beer he hadn't yet started to drink and grabbed another for himself. Rain looked around the living room for a place to sit. Bad news, little girl, it's the couch or the floor. Yeah, it was going to be fun getting to know her.
"Come on, we don't bite," I said patting the cushion beside me.
"Often," Jon added. When Rain looked at him as if he was serious, the room erupted in laughter.
"First rule; if you plan to hang...lighten the fuck up." Despite the signals this girl was giving off, I put a hand on her shoulder, gently massaging out the tension. I mentally kicked myself for the forward gesture when she flinched away from me. I couldn't help myself; I needed to push her just a little bit. I wanted to see how she would react, but I wasn't prepared for her to move away from me as though my hand was soaked in acid and burning her skin.
The four of us sat there for the next two hours, talking about everything and nothing at all. She told us that she had left home after high school, hoping to make a living playing music. How in the hell she wound up in Portland, I'll never know. There are so many places that are better destinations if you are chasing that particular pipe dream. She didn't have anything in the way of a musical background, but damn, the girl had more passion than most people I knew.
Jon seemed to ease up as it got later—a combination of beer, Jack Daniels, and the fact that Travis just might have been onto something. "Okay kid, you talk a good game. Now, let's see if you can back it up." He tossed my guitar at me, nodding. "Go on; tell him what you wanna do. He's not as dumb as he looks; he'll be able to muddle through it."
I scowled at Jon as I pulled my long blond hair back into a low ponytail. "Never mind him. So, you tell me..." Even with her nerves still frayed, she had eased up considerably.
"Black Velvet," she said, her eyes fixed on mine. "Don't fuck it up."
She sat up at the edge of the cushion, swaying as I started playing the intro. Alanah Myles has a voice that is hard to beat, and Black Velvet is one of those songs you don't attempt if you can't do it well. The way she was bobbing her head and biting her lip, I had a feeling we were about to get schooled. This girl wasn't getting ready to sing a song; she was allowing the melody to possess every cell in her body.
"Mississippi, in the middle of a dry spell..." From the very first words, I had to remind myself that I was supposed to be accompanying her. She kept her eyes closed through every beat of the song, the expression on her face telling the story as much as the words coming out of her mouth. While not anything we would normally play, her smoky voice made me think we could easily cover the song during our shows, and the fans wouldn't complain. I glanced in Jon's direction at one point and
saw him in the kitchen, wide-eyed and slowly shaking his head. He was as captivated by her as I was.
When she finished, Jon slowly clapped from the kitchen island. "Damn little girl, you got some pipes on ya. That's not what we normally do, but shit!" Jon, the man who was never at a loss for words, seemed to be having trouble figuring out what he wanted to say. I'm just glad he finally spoke up because it was going to take a while before I could pick my jaw up off the ground.
"Not bad." She draped her arm over my shoulder and pulled me in for a hug. Had I known that all it would take for her to open up to me was to get her singing, I would have insisted on starting out with that instead of wasting so much time talking.
It took over a month for us to convince Rain that she really was badass and would be doing us a favor by rounding out Blessed Tragedy. During that time, she hung out with us every day, mostly doing covers from eighties greats like Pat Benatar and Joan Jett.
Every Saturday and every other Friday, she would join us at Wilson's. The first three nights she was there, she sat at our table to the right of the stage watching us play our set. The following Saturday night, Jon came out from behind his drum kit two songs into the second set. It wasn't unusual for him to decide he had something to say, but normally we planned it ahead of time. I gave him a curious look before stepping to the side.
"What would you say if I told you we had a surprise in store for you folks tonight?" Jon yelled into his mic. The near-capacity crowd went wild in response to his question. "Well, you're in luck because we've got one hell of a big one!"
I followed Jon's eyes to see that he was preparing to put Rain on the spot. When Jon crooked a finger in her direction, she shook her head violently. My eyes bounced from him to her and back again. There was about to be a battle of wills and I wasn't sure who would come out on top. I jumped off the stage, hoping to convince her that she finally needed to take her place behind the mic.
"Come on, you're ready for this," I assured her. Hell, she was probably more ready to be on stage than we were, to tell the truth.
"I can't. They came here to listen to you guys, not to some girl with a fucked up dream of being a rock star." She rocked on her heels, staring at the ground. In the short time I had known her, I knew that was a sign she doubted her abilities. For as much as she talked about wanting it, there was something holding her back from making her dreams come true.
I brushed her ruby red curls away from her face and looked deep into her eyes. "You have the fire. I've seen it. And I think you're the only one who's not ready to see that you are one of us." Jon's patience was starting to wear thin with her hesitation to jump in and take the mic. I wasn't sure I would be able to get him to keep waiting now that he had called her out publicly. I also knew it would be the biggest mistake any of us could make not to have her as our lead singer.
"One song. You get up there and do Black Velvet. If you don't like it, you can come back here and nurse your Cherry Pepsi. Deal?" I reached my hand to her, pulling her close for a reassuring hug. "They're gonna love you as much as we do," I whispered into her ear.
I tried to ignore the combination of vanilla and jasmine filling my nose as I nuzzled my head into her hair. I tried to deny the fact that she fit perfectly under the crook of my arm, our bodies melding together. We seemed made for one another. Even though I'd definitely thought about all the things I wanted to do to this girl, I knew it was neither the time nor the place for those thoughts.
"Fine," she conceded. "One song. Just don't fuck it up." She shot me a wry smile as she walked away and I wondered if there would ever be a day when she would let her walls down enough to let me in. For now, I would wait for those confident, sarcastic moments to roll around and pray I could find the right thing to say when her insecurity was in full force.
As expected, the crowd went ballistic within the first ten words of her first song. I think the fact that she is so petite added to the fascination our fans had with her because it was such a stark contrast to her commanding, sultry voice. Finished with the first song, she attempted to leave the stage but Travis held her tight while Jon officially introduced her to the Saturday night crowd at Wilson's. Knowing her name after that, the crowd chanted for her to get back in front of the mic. We threw out the rest of our normal set list for the night, jamming like we did in Travis' apartment instead.
That was the night Rain became the lead singer for Blessed Tragedy. While I couldn't be certain, I would like to say the push I gave her was the one she needed to realize her potential and start living her dreams. The insecure girl started to fade into the background and we got to see fiery Rain the majority of the time.
Tight-lipped, she and Travis never talked about how they met until one night when we were all drinking. I had noticed that Rain never drank more than one beer, and most nights it was left on the makeshift cinder block and lumber coffee table half full or more. With the help of Jack Daniels, I finally asked her about it.
"What's up with you not drinking?" I slurred. Her eyes darted to Travis and then off into the distance.
"Maybe I'm just not a big drinker," she said, her emerald green eyes meeting mine for a moment before she looked away again.
Had I been sober, that would have been a suitable answer. Unfortunately, for me, I was about three hours on the wrong side of sober. "Bullshit. If you weren't a drinker, you wouldn't take the beer when offered, but you do. What's your deal?"
"Dude, do you know when to shut the fuck up?" Travis cut me off before I could continue making an ass out of myself. He seemed more upset by the question than he should have been which only served to pique my alcohol-fueled curiosity. Why does it matter to him if I ask her about her goody two-shoes stance on alcohol?
I lifted my hands in surrender. "My bad, didn't realize it was such a touchy subject." I grabbed the bottle of Jack out of Jon's hands and took a long drink. "Forget I fucking said anything."
"No, it's fine," Rain said quietly, still unwilling to make eye contact. Whatever her reason, it was obviously something that caused her pain. I might have been drunk, but there was no mistaking that reaction.
Travis, who was as drunk as I was, if not more so, stood from the bar stool at the kitchen island. "No, Rain. It's not okay. He had no fucking right to try to make you feel bad about not drinking. Fuck, I'm a dick for having the free-flow going when you're over here to begin with." I looked at Trav trying to figure out what in the hell he was talking about. "Colt, you need to just let it go."
Fine by me, I thought that's what I already said I was going to do. Damn, now I really want to know. Thanks, Trav.
Rain curled her slender legs under her so she was a compact little ball at the end of the couch. "No, it's cool," she said to Trav. She took a deep breath and her shoulders slumped forward. "You might as well know I'm a recovering addict. I preferred coke to alcohol any day of the week, but I try to be careful about too much of anything. I'm supposed to be finding ways to deal with my shit that don't involve altering my state of consciousness. Or some bullshit like that." Knowing this was a serious moment for her, I pursed my lips to stifle the laugh trying to sneak out when she rolled her eyes at the last part of her statement.
I reached out to her, grateful that she had shared that part of herself with us. I couldn't help but wonder what had happened in her past that she couldn't see we would all be here to help her every damned day if she'd let us. Her fingers felt tiny in my hands and I could feel the calluses from years of playing guitar scraping across her smooth skin.
"Hey, I really am sorry I pushed. I can be an ass when I'm drunk. And tonight...I'm way drunk." She laughed at my observation and I had hope that I hadn't totally fucked things up with her.
I'm not sure why I was so worried about that, but I was. From the moment I saw her walk in wearing a ribbed tank top and skater pants, looking like a runaway teen, I had wanted to get closer to her. When I was younger, my mom called me a "fixer". I always found the broken kids, befriended them and then tried to
fix their problems. In some ways, I think I saw something in her that first day that made me acutely aware that she was very, very broken on the inside.
"Seriously though, thank you for trusting us with that. I know it's probably not something you like talking about." I knew all too well what it was like to admit you had a problem. My own were nothing like battling addiction, but my own closet held skeletons I didn't talk about very often. "I hope that someday you'll realize that you're one of us now. That means you don't have to go through anything alone anymore."
There were tears lining her dark lashes when she looked up to me. "I hope you don't mind if it takes me a while to get there," she whispered. "I haven't exactly had good luck with anyone sticking around and having my back before."
With the mood for the evening effectively killed, Jon excused himself shortly after our little altercation without saying a word. Rain worried that we'd upset him, until I assured her that was typical Jon. When he got to his limit for the night, he would get up and stagger to his own apartment two blocks away. Trav lifted his head from the breakfast bar at the sound of the door slamming shut and stumbled to his bedroom, leaving Rain and I alone in the living room.
"You ready to go home?" I wasn't ready for the night to end, but there was no point in sitting around Travis's apartment now that it was just the two of us.
"Seeing as my ride may or may not have made it to his bed before passing out, I think I'm stuck here for the night," she replied, peering down the dark hallway.
I stood and extended a hand to help her up from the couch. "Come on, I'll give you a ride."
"No, really, it's okay. He can run me home in the morning. Besides, shouldn't you think about crashing here too?" My eyes followed hers to the collection of beer bottles littering the coffee table, and I knew she was right. There was no way I could drive anywhere.
"You know how to drive, right?" I grabbed my keys off the kitchen counter and tossed them to her. "I'm hungry. Come on, you're not going to make me sit alone at the diner, are you? Do you have any clue how pathetic I'll look if I do that?"