I hop out of my car, enjoying the cool breeze that blows in from the lake. I look down at the row of fancy lakeside villas at Newland Beach. The modern but minimalistic designs suit my tastes perfectly.
Those villas will be our home for the next couple of weeks as we finish up our latest album.
Ace insisted on this place because he says that it’s where he feels the most creative. And judging by the crisp, clean air, beautiful scenery, and quiet shores, I can see why.
Besides, Ace is the main songwriter for this album. If recording here helps him string those words together then I’m not complaining.
“I call dibs on this one,” Kieran says, pointing to the villa in front of us. There are three to choose from, so it looks like each family has a villa to themselves.
Eric and his supermodel wife Addie—at least until she has to leave for her next gig.
Kieran and I.
Ace and his new wife Laney.
I’m a little surprised that Ace decided to bring her and their baby along.
I don’t have any problems with them. Laney’s an angel and the kid’s cute.
But I kinda get the feeling that Laney isn’t totally onboard with Vagabond. Still, she mentioned something about always wanting to paint by Lake Michigan, so if things suit her fine then it’s no skin off my back.
“Yeah, sure,” Kieran says, shooting me a wink.
I watch Ace and Eric leave with their families in tow.
I don’t exactly have trouble getting women. Being the drummer of Vagabond definitely comes with its perks.
Any attraction I feel always disappears when the sun comes up.
“You gonna help me with the bags or what?” Kieran calls, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I sling a duffel bag over my shoulder and follow Kieran inside.
I have other things to worry about than my happily ever after.
We have an album to finish.
“You going to be okay on your own for a while?”
Ace wraps me up in his arms as we stand on the balcony of our villa that overlooks Lake Michigan. The lake stretches out as far as I can see, and it’s easy to imagine that it just goes on forever.
“I’ll manage,” I say.
Sophie is blissfully asleep. The car ride must have tired her out.
“Our sessions run pretty late, but if anything happens, just give me a call.” Ace presses his lips into my hair. “I’ll come running.”
“My hero.”
He chuckles, pulling away from me.
“I’ll be back later tonight.”
Ace grabs his guitar case and gives Sophie a little kiss before he goes out to meet with the rest of the band.
I watch their cars pull away from the villas, a wistful smile on my face.
Things are pretty calm at the moment with Ace and Vagabond. They’re still stateside—at least while they finish their album.
But what happens after that?
More world tours?
My husband gone for months at a time?
I gaze at my daughter. She’s growing up so fast. It seems like only yesterday that I was on a hospital bed, a newborn Sophie swaddled in my arms.
She looks different almost day to day.
When will she say her first words?
Take her first steps?
Will Ace be around to experience that with me, or will I be alone?
I push the sad thoughts away as I rummage through my things. Time enough to worry about that if and when it comes.
I should enjoy the good times while they’re here.
I prop up an easel on the balcony, and set a nice, clean canvas on it. The empty space just begs to be painted on. I can almost feel the magnetic pull between my brush and my palette.
Inspiration isn’t hard to come by.
The scenery is stunning.
I just got married.
I have a beautiful family.
I begin mixing my paints, raising my brush for the first stroke, and…
I quickly set down my paints and rush over to Sophie. I take her up in my arms, bouncing gently as I try to calm her.
“There, there, baby,” I coo. “Mama’s here. Shhh.”
I look over at the canvas I abandoned on the balcony.
Walking into an empty studio is one of my favorite things in the world.
That moment when the power flicks on and the instruments just shine underneath the light. The smell of the hardwood panels and soundproof fixtures. The moment of calm before the flurry of inspiration.
It’s like stepping into another world.
I can feel the magic buzzing in the air.
At least, that’s how it usually is.
Instead of an empty, calm studio, Vagabond and I find someone inside waiting for us.
It’s Vince.
“Sit down,” he says, his voice calm.
I gulp.
I can handle Vince when he’s as red as a tomato, yelling like his lungs might burst. That Vince is easy. The calm, silent Vince?
My trepidation seems to infect my bandmates. Eric quickly claims the seat farthest away from our manager, and Kieran and Grady take the next best options.
Without any other choice, I take the seat directly across from Vince. He levels the full brunt of his glare at me.
“So you got fuckin’ married,” he says. His face scrunches up as he says it, as if it leaves a particularly shitty taste in his mouth.
I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Vince is our manager, but he doesn’t run my entire life.
“Yeah, I got married,” I say. “Is that a crime?”
“It is in this business, kid.” Vince closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’s trying to explain something very simple to a child.
It’s starting to piss me off.
“You didn’t raise this much of a stink when Eric got married.” I throw a glance at my cousin. His face is impassive, but I can tell he doesn’t like being used as an example.
“We’ve already been through this,” Vince says. “You’re the face of the group, Ace. Most of our audience is horny single women who fantasize about having your dick rammed deep inside of ’em.”
“And why the hell should I care about that?”
“Oh I dunno,” Vince says, raising his voice. “Maybe ’cause it pays our fuckin’ bills? Maybe because without those horny single women we’d be bums on the street?”
“I would’ve thought our music is what kept us afloat, not my relationship status.”
I look to my bandmates for support.
Grady and Kieran nod their agreement, but they don’t speak up.
“Ace, listen to me,” Vince says. “I’m not saying you guys aren’t talented. Obviously your music is top class. The name ‘Vagabond’ is known worldwide for a reason.”
“So then—”
The studio is heavy with silence as his words sink in like acid rain.
I hate it.
I don’t want to admit it.
But I know it’s true.
Show business is a really amazing and deeply rewarding career to be in.
But all of that comes with its drawbacks. And this is one of them.
“So what are you saying we should do?” I ask Vince. “Cause if you expect me to divorce my wife you can kiss my ass.”
“No way, Ace. I’d never ask you to do that.” Vince straightens his back and rolls his neck around, trying to relieve some of the tension there. “Look, I’m not a monster. Even if I have to pretend to be one to keep this band afloat.”
“So what then?”
“All I’m asking is that you keep your relationship on the down-low. Keep it quiet. Hide your beautiful wife and kid from the cameras. I know you’ll be thankful for the privacy anyway. Not too much to ask, is it?”
I mull it over.
It isn’t a big ask, sure. It’s pretty reasonable.
Besides, I don’t exactly want my family to be underneath the media storm of hounding paparazzi. At least not yet.
I look to my bandmates and I know that they will respect my decision, whatever that is. And I also know that I can’t put their livelihoods at risk.
“Fine,” I agree.
Vince claps his hands together, rising to his feet.
“I knew you’d see sense, Ace.” He pats my shoulder as he walks out of the studio. “Now get crackin’ fellas! That album isn’t gonna finish itself.”
Vince walks out the door and he’s gone.
Eric looks at me as he rises from his seat.
“You okay with this?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, it’s cool.”
“Then so am I.” He nods. “Alright, Vagabond, let’s do this.”
We all go to our places around the studio to prepare for our first session.
I pick up my guitar and pluck at the strings, making sure they’re all in tune. Usually when I take hold of my guitar I’m able to let go of the rest of the world and lose myself in the music.
But all I can think about right now are Laney and Sophie.
God, I hope so.
Cause if not, then we’re in for another shitstorm.
