Page 5 of Whirlwind

Freefall was Zack and Myles’s third band. They’d endured a few highs and too many painful lows—a string of near contracts, members dropping out, one dying in a car crash, no money—until hooking up with me and Jude. Zack brought an iron will, determination, and practicality. Myles brought fervor and passion laced with a devilish dose of desperation to finally make it big.

Our chemistry onstage was electric, Myles’s performances riveting. He loved the spotlight, he was good looking, his voice spectacular, and he knew how to work the crowd, wring emotions from each song, and they loved him for it. I wasn’t jealous of that. I was thrilled we had a front man with such a powerful, emotional vocal range to perform the songs I wrote.

From the beginning, I’d insisted that we split the royalties four ways for every song. I’d seen the mistrust and resentment that Dad’s band had gone through. I didn’t want that, it made no sense to me.

Everyone had respected my songwriting and composition. And my opinions—not too many interviews, no music videos for each and every song. Dad’s band had hit it big, then petered out within a handful of years. It had been painful and destructive for each of the members. I was wary of overkill. Myles wasn’t wary of anything.

He had a big chip on his shoulder that I was some sort of “elite” that had never struggled. That was partly true. But that didn’t mean that I didn’t work as hard as he did for our success, that I didn’t appreciate what we had. I did.

Myles was a hungry man. He wanted to do all the things. For me, it was always about longevity and substance. But Myles liked to remind me it was about so much more.

“Our final show and what’s the hot topic? You and your dick.”

Something snapped inside me. “I’m so fucking sick of your shit!” My fist slammed into his face, and Myles flew back against Jude. Pain exploded up my arm.

“Hey! Hey! Stop them! Stop!”

Diving forward, I swung again, shouts and screams echoing in my ears. Hands grabbed me yanking me back. I shoved, fabric ripped. My hand stung, bones ached and throbbed.

Jude’s face got in mine. “Stop it, Beck, stop. Ease up!”

Myles’s voice raged. “I’m glad Mae fucked you over the way she did. Can’t wait to hear her next single!”

Mae was infamous for real-timing her lyrics with her love life. With every release, fans looked forward to the insights on her most recent exes, for the truth behind the gossip. Truth? What was the fucking truth?

“Enough, you two!” Ford’s sharp voice made my back rigid.

Shoving Jude away, I slumped against a table for support and found another bottle of champagne.

Ford pointed at us in one sweeping gesture. “You all have a month to cool off and get a fucking grip before we meet in L.A.“

“I don’t know if that’s long enough,” Myles spit out, wiping at his face with his arm.

I lifted the heavy bottle and guzzled. Ice cold champagne flooded my hot throat.

“You all need to figure this shit out together. There is no slowing down now. We need new material for a new record, as well as nailing down ideas for the next tour. You got that? Myles?”

“Yeah.” Myles rubbed his jaw.

Someone handed me an ice pack strip, and I shoved it away, using the smooth champagne bottle instead.Ahhh.

Ford’s stern face filled my blurry vision. “Beck, I’ve never had to worry about you before. I get that you’re going through a rough time with this Mae shit, it sucks, what a bitch move, but that’s real life and unfortunately, you’ve got to roll with it for all the world to see.” He tilted his shaved head and shot me that signature Ford look:Deal with it, or else.

He shot Myles, Zack, and Jude the look.“You have a lot of time to yourselves now. Make the most of it. And when you get back to L.A., you all bring material to the table and be ready to collaborate. Try something new this time.” He gripped my shoulder.

Something new this time?

Myles crossed his arms, chin lifted, eyes on me. Had they spoken? What the fuck? Suddenly me writing all the material wasn’t a good thing?

“You need a dictionary to see what the wordcollaboratemeans, Becky?” Myles said.

I heaved forward, Ford shoved me back. “Come on, Myles. Give him a break, would you?” Ford’s arm slid around my shoulders. “Beck, enjoy your time off. Get laid. Work out, eat right. Change it up whatever it is. Let loose.”

“Maybe fuck a guy. See how that goes, huh?” Myles quipped.

“Shut up already! You’re being a fucking asshole!” Jude’s face had paled with the exertion of yelling, his eyes glassy.

Ford slid against the table next to me. “Beck, you were wobbly up there in the beginning, and that’s okay. We all get it, she fucked you over right before you went onstage. And the whole audience got it too, and, man, they were with you the whole damn way. You showed emotion and you put it all into your music. You blew it out of the arena. It was fierce.”

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