The solo tour a second c.., p.1
The Solo Tour: A Second Chance Rockstar Romance (Amaryllis Romance Book 5), page 1
The Solo Tour
Amaryllis Romance: Book 5
(Jude Jericho)
by
Mandy Melanson
RHETASKEW PUBLISHING
A DIVISION OF RHETORIC ASKEW, LLC
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
COVER ILLUSTRATION
© 2021–NO SWEAT GRAPHICS
INTERIOR DESIGN
© 2021–RHETORIC ASKEW, LLC
All characters, settings, locations, and all other content contained within this book are fictional and are the intellectual property of the author; any likenesses are coincidental and unknown to author and publisher at the time of publication.
This work and its components may not be reproduced without the express written permission of the author, Amaryllis Media, LLC, and Rhetoric Askew, LLC.
© 2022 Mandy Melanson, Amaryllis Media, LLC, and Rhetoric Askew, LLC
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About The Solo Tour
Dedication
Note to Readers
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
About The Solo Tour
Alyssa Maxwell, the girl who stole my heart in high school. The same girl whose heart I broke when I stood her up on prom night. One week ago, I walked out on a sold-out tour with only my daughter and the cash I had in my back pocket. Now, The Machine is ready to collect on damages caused by my abrupt departure. They launched an all-out attack on my brand, which I should have expected after walking out on a national headlining tour. The media is calling me the prodigal rockstar and labeling me as a loose cannon. I’m basically hemorrhaging money at this point...
Alyssa is the only one who can help me combat the media tirades, but our history together might be enough to keep me from ever finding my way out of this mess. Can she forgive me for our past and help me salvage what’s left of my career and the future?
Dedication
This book, like all of my books, is dedicated to my children. Although, they will have to wait until they’re older to read it.
Kids,
There will people you meet in this life who will try to dull your shine because it’s too bright for their eyes.
That is their problem.
Not yours.
Remember who you are and be true to yourself in everything you do. It is not your job to dull yourself to make them feel more comfortable. It is their job to level up to where you are, so they will not be intimidated by your light.
I am proud of you today and every single day because of the person(s) you’ve chosen to be.
Love always,
Mom.
Note to Readers
Thank you so much for being part of the Amaryllis Romance reader family.
At the end, I’ve included a link to download a collection of extended epilogues. If you want to see what happens after THE END, then make sure to click the link at the end of the book and don’t toss the e-reader to the side when the book seems to wrap up around the ninety-percent mark.
Now that you know where to find the link, I’ll talk to you soon in the readers’ group.
Acknowledgements
Being an author is hard work. I couldn’t do this without the support of my parents, Mark and Melanie, my children, and an unhealthy amount of Dr. Pepper and Coffee.
Thank you to the author community in Amaryllis Media and Rhetoric Askew for supporting me as I chase my goals, while helping each of you reach for yours as well.
Together, we can all reach the stars.
Chapter 1
Jude
The sound of the crowd chanting “Jericho” echoes through my brain. Jer-AH-co! Jer-AH-co! There was a time in my life where hearing that sound would have been music to my ears. Especially, hearing it come from the other side of these concrete walls. Not anymore. Tonight, their chants are just one more reminder I’m living a life that no longer belongs to me. I gave up my right to make my own decisions years ago. The day I gave my signature and my entire brand to The Machine. I let out a long exhale as I count silently to myself, trying to shake the negative energy out. It doesn't take long before my brain snaps and I go into a series of shadow boxing punches. My pre-show ritual to get my adrenaline pumping and the blood flowing, so I can be at one hundred percent on stage. You could sum my life up in just a few words. I show up on stage as the person they believe I am and collect a paycheck. It doesn’t matter if that person really exists or not. The worst part? I do it. Not just tonight, either. I do it every single night, but I don’t do it for myself. I do it for everyone else, including my family.
“Daddy,” Tatum asks me from where she is sitting on the floor and playing games on her tablet.
“What's up, princess?” I stop in mid-air punch to turn around to look at my little girl, my biggest reason for pushing to keep myself in this life I've built for us. I might regret it sometimes, but it has allowed me to provide her with everything she could ever want.
She looks up from her phone with a long face. It looks like someone took the wind right out of her sails.
“What's wrong?”
“I hate it here,” she admits with a heavy sigh.
My heart breaks at the weight of her words. “You don't like this venue?” I ask, glancing around. It's much less formal than the legendary venue we played a few nights ago, but it has a long musical history. “It could use some finesse,” I admit.
Tatum shrugs her delicate shoulders. “I don't like being stuck in busses and dressing rooms all the time.” She groans. “It's so boring. Can we go home after the tour? At least for a little while?” Her eyes flicker with a glimmer of hope.
Home?
We closed on the house over four years ago. Still, we’ve never been back to Aurora, Texas, for even a single night at home. I slowly nod, agreeing to her request, which seems to relieve some of the worry from her face as she goes back to playing her game as I try to remember what home even looks like. If it weren't for the professional movers, our stuff would still be packed away in boxes.
How could I believe she'd be happy with this life? I internally scream at myself.
Of course, she's bored.
She's stuck doing absolutely nothing while I'm being dressed, groomed, and prepped to go on stage to put on a show for the people. How could I have overlooked the way that must make her feel. It's all fake, which means it takes a hell of a long time for me to go from Jude Wright to Jude Jericho before I take my mark on stage. A sudden clearing of someone's throat pulls me out of my thoughts and chastising of myself, back into the present moment. Zak, the head of security and the bodyguard assigned to me personally, is standing in the doorway as he rocks back and forth on his heels while keeping his eyes focused on the commotion happening in the corridors.
“Always on the job, aren't you Zak?” I ask, going back to my pre-show routine and throwing another punch into the air.
He nods, keeping his eyes on the people moving back and forth through our space in the backstage area. Half of the opening act's crew is hustling to get everyone ushered into their meet and greet positions while the other half breaks down their equipment and packs it away, no doubt getting ready to load it onto their bus. Meanwhile, our crew is hustling to make sure everything is ready for when we take the stage. There are a lot of moving parts to make each show happen and behind each one of those moving parts is a human making it happen. That is one thing I try to never forget, even if The Machine forgot about the humans behind the scenes a long time ago.
“Are you at least winning?” an all too familiar voice heckles me from the makeshift entrance to the backstage area. I hate this guy's voice on a normal day, but right now it is enough to make me want to go from shadow boxing to punching him in the nose.
“Curtis,” I sigh as I acknowledge the only face of the label I've known since my last talent manager left, deciding to go out on his own. I still see Nigel occasionally, but not nearly as often now that he works for himself. He followed the Amaryllis team in telling The Machine exactly where they could stick their contracts and their demands. I envy all of them. Zak knows how much I despise Curtis and everything he stands for with the label. He must have felt the shift of energy in the room because he's got one palm up, pushing against Curtis's chest to keep him from coming any closer to me. “What exactly do you want, Curtis?” He asks, still refusing to let him through the entry. “Jude has a show to get ready for.” I chuckle at the backhanded reminder, as if Curtis isn't already fully aware of the sold-out crowd.
“Let's get to the point, huh?” I add, with a hint of amusement seeping out in my tone. “They're growing more and more restless with each second that passes.”
He lets out a deep belly laugh, and not one that carries any goodwill with it. It's the condescending type of laugh that serves one purpose and one purpose only, to remind the othe
“Breaking out the threats a little early tonight, aren't we?” I ask without an ounce of humor in my voice. The lines in Curtis's forehead deepen as he scowls at me from across the green room. I'm not going to lie. I enjoy watching him squirm. He must be thinking about the pressure his bosses will throw at him if he loses control of the talent he's been assigned to—me. “Come on, Curtis. Relax. When have I ever failed you?” I bend down and plant a soft kiss on my daughter's forehead. She doesn't bother to look up, but wraps one arm around my neck in a hug.
“Have a good show, Daddy,” she says while turning her attention back to her game.
I nod to Brent and Dallas, two long-standing members of Zak's team who I have also come to consider friends. Zak, as head of Jude Jericho security, assigned both of them to my daughter. Their being here lets me know she's safe while I'm on stage. On most nights, the knowledge they're with her and protecting her makes it easier for me to do my job. Knowing they are staying with her and will keep a slightly overprotective and watchful eye on anyone who gets close to her isn't enough tonight. Everything about tonight feels off. Why should this be any different? I do my best to shake off the negative thoughts, so I can do my job and get this night over with. Maybe then I can figure out exactly how I'm going to keep my promise to Tatum to take her home.
Home... It's a foreign concept.
It only takes me two long strides to close the distance between where I stood and the doorway where Curtis is attempting to block my exit. “You might want to let me through, unless you want to explain to your bosses that you are the entire reason I was late to the stage.” He crosses his arms as if he's going to challenge me right there with everyone watching, including my daughter. He must be an idiot. Zak reaches out with one hand, pushing Curtis back. His quick thinking gives me just enough room to make my way past Curtis while keeping the situation from escalating any more than it already has. He might be my security guard, but he's also my friend. Zak matches my pace as I jog through the corridor toward the stage entrance. Stride for stride, Zak places himself between the two of us. I can’t help but laugh under my breath when I see Curtis, who is attempting to keep pace with us in his three-piece suit. I’ll give him points for the effort, but he’s lagging several paces behind us, which I’m not upset about. The further away from me he stays, the better.
Pfft. Idiot.
“Don't make tonight the time you decide to test your luck,” Curtis quips from a couple of paces behind us.
I stop short and turn on my heel to face him. “Do you always have to get the last word?” The glances
“The Machine doesn't just own you; it owns them too...” he reminds me, nodding toward where my supporting band is waiting for me to signal it's time for them to take their mark on stage.
That might have been the final straw. Honestly, I'm not sure when it all got to be much, but I am certain that his bringing them into it didn't help matters. A growl escapes my lips before I can even register that it's happening as I close the distance between us. Zak responds by signaling for two of his men to join us. They had been stationed on either side of the stairs leading up to the stage. “Don't worry, Zak. I won't hurt him, especially not with my daughter just on the other side of that wall.” That doesn't mean I won't knock him down a peg or two. “Don't forget,” I say, sticking my finger directly in Curtis' face. “I'm the biggest draw you or your stupid label have since you blew it with Amaryllis. Don't push me.”
He huffs out a disgusted sigh as he turns on his heel to leave. Maybe he finally realized he overstayed his welcome, I tell myself. As I reach out to grab my guitar from the station where my tech has been dutifully preparing each one for tonight's show, Curtis chuckles condescendingly from the end of the corridor. The sound makes me stop with my hand still in mid-air, reaching for the Les Paul I open every show with.
“If you've got something to say, you better say it while you still can.” I can feel my eyebrows pulling together as the muscles in my neck tense up. My hands instinctively ball up into fists at my side.
“Remember when they found you?” he asks, raising one eyebrow and glaring a hole straight through me. “You were playing dive bars and begging for customers to drop coins into your tip jar. The Machine gave you this life. It can take it away just as quickly.”
Ha! He thought the reminder of those simpler times would shake me back into submission. If he only knew how much I preferred that life over this one. “Is that a promise?” I yell back through the chaotic sounds of equipment powering up and feet shuffling along the concrete floor. The crowd's chants echo louder and louder until they're just a constant pounding noise inside my skull. Jer-AH-co! Jer-AH-co! I wait until Curtis is out of earshot before turning to my tech and shaking my head. “I've never said this in my entire career, but I don't think I can do it tonight. Man,” I scoff at my inability to shake the intrusive thoughts as I turn around to find my bandmates all staring at me with confused glances being tossed back and forth between them. They've supported me all the way through this. How can I just...? They aren't just my band, they're my brothers, too. The guilt weighs heavily in the center of my chest as I look each one of them in the eye, knowing what I'm about to do next could change everything for each one of us. “I'm sorry, guys.” I let my apology hang in the air without explanation. They'll figure it out soon enough.
Jett is the first one to speak up as he slings his guitar around his neck. “Don't worry about him, Jude. That guy and the label are trash.”
Dayton, our drummer, nods his head in agreement as he flips his drumsticks between his fingers. “Garbage.”
Phoenix checks the tuning on his bass as he looks up and rolls his eyes. “No one said this life would be easy. We just do what we have to do.”
“We do what we have to do,” I echo under my breath.
“Huh?” Zak asks, leaning in closer to hear me over the noise of the crowd. “What was that?”
I shake my head. “Nothing,” I say, waving my hand in the air, dismissing the thought that had just crossed my mind. The sight of my seven year old daughter peeking around the doorway of my dressing room shakes me out of the fog of my own thoughts. Tatum looks miserable, waiting for me to finish so we can get back on the bus. “This is no life for a child.”
“That's a fair statement,” Zak agrees.
I hadn't realized I had said it out loud, but it's the truth. Living on a bus, never settling in anywhere because The Machine won't let us stop long enough to plant any roots anywhere... It's not the life I want for her. “Guys...”
They seem to have picked up the cues and know what's coming next, maybe even before I let myself accept what I'm about to say. “I need a break.”
“Don't worry, Jude.” Zak motions for me to follow him as he takes off back through the winding corridors of the backstage area. “If that's your decision, then we need to get you and Tatum out of here before Curtis shows back up,” he calls out over his shoulder.
Right. “What will you tell them?” I ask, following along as he leads me back through the corridor toward my dressing room.
He shrugs. “A rabid fan hopped the gates, and I was busy protecting the label's assets while you bolted through the fire exit.”
I bend down to scoop my daughter into my arms. Her dark eyes sparkle with confusion and glee as she realizes we're going to get out of here. “I'll explain everything later, but first we need to just get out of here.” She nods and doesn't ask questions. We can have that conversation once we've made it past all the checkpoints. Until then, I need to keep my head down, my mouth shut and just get us off Machine territory. “I'm sorry,” I shake my head. “Did you say the fire exit?”
Zak nods and glances to Brent and Dallas, signaling them to stand down as he taps his earpiece to radio one of his team members. “Cut the fire alarm for thirty seconds.” He reaches out to shake my hand. “That's all the time I can give you, but at least the alarm won't go off while you duck out. Be careful when you go through the bus camp. Keep your head down.” In one movement, he tugs his black ball cap off and plops it on my head. “Here,” he says with a grimace. “It has the company logo on it, but there are at least one hundred of these caps bouncing around the venue tonight, so it might help you blend in.” He holds the door open for us.
