Dark Side of the Moon

By Tami Parrington

Book Two of The Rock Star Series

In a world all its own music somehow manages to exist: something beautiful within the crazy, devious and often dangerous atmosphere of secrecy, lies and deceit. In this world, life is short and Gabriel Evans can feel his career slipping away, but he's not sure why and he doesn't know how to recapture the dream that started it all.

Kia Lambert is a woman on a mission. From outside looking in, the entertainment world is a glittering, glamorous place. Getting in isn't easy, but she has a plan. A plan she may live to regret.

***Adult content due for language and some mild sexual content

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tami Parrington
• Release date: Jun 5, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476260686

Tami Parrington

I was an only child. Coupled with the fact that I was raised by depression era grandparents, and the generation gap was extreme I was alone a lot as a child. That sounds pretty maudlin, and my grandparents loved me, and I them. I had a good life, but the situation was what it was, and I spent a lot of my time in my own head. What that did for me was show me that–it wasn’t such a bad place to be. I could create my own world. The one I really wanted to live in, or sometimes, the ones I didn’t want to live in. I could explore my own reality and many other realities. I could tear about society’s ideals, my own ideals and create better ideals–or sometimes just find out what happened when you really did follow the rabbit down the rabbit hole. Those early days set up a love for both creating my own worlds and stories, and getting lost deep in other people’s worlds. I was an avid reader from a very early age. The love for words was born and while it may have lingered unattended once in awhile, it never really goes away. All my life I’ve been a writer and explorer of the human condition, the world and visions of what life could be.

Book preview

DARK SIDE OF THE MOON

By

Tami Parrington

The Rock Star Series

To Bob

For twenty-nine years of believing

Whisper to me darling

from somewhere in the dark.

Sing to me a love song

our souls in rapture spark.

You call my name in silence.

I hear you in my heart.

You breathe me into ecstasy

and think my life to start …

Sweet bliss.

~Tami

DARK SIDE OF THE MOON

The Rock Star Series

Tami Parrington

Copyright 2012 by Tami Parrington

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CHAPTER 1

Excuse me.

Gabriel Evans looked up. His head pounded and his eyes ached. The woman in front of him should spark an interest, but the throbbing in his temples obliterated any ability to think. Damn, those legs could go on and on. Her legs were all he could see from his slouched position, but it was enough--definitely enough. His gaze moved up and down her legs and noticed the shake as her knees quivered.

I have an interview.

I know that. Gabe shrugged off his alcohol-induced sarcasm as he winced and reached across the desk to grab the letter of reference that he’d read several times since receiving it. He’d had his personnel department set up the interview. Normally that would be enough, but not this time. This time he wanted to do the final interview personally--a decision he had begun to regret as his head continued to beat out an irritating rhythm that made his teeth hurt.

He plopped a fizzing tablet in a glass of water and smiled at the frail figure in front of him without raising his head.

It’s been a long day. He motioned for the girl to take a seat. So, Kia, that’s a pretty name. He enjoyed her shy smile. It cast a light on the room and made him feel a little more human.

He waited a few more minutes for the fizzing to subside and drank the glass down in a single effort, wincing at the taste and looking up over the top of the cup to watch his guest’s reaction.

Her smile faded. It seemed she didn’t approve. He deserved that, he supposed. This was no way to treat his voice, not with only a few hours to go before he had to hit the studio and lay down new tracks. He cleared his throat, and it scratched and objected to the abuse.

Long day, he repeated, then turned to the paper he had placed on the desk. Faith had given her a sterling reference. He’d known Faith for as long as he’d been in the business. She was an acidy old crone, but when it came to costume design…none better. He studied the petite girl sitting across from him; she had passed muster with his own personnel department, as well. Now she stood before him for her final test.

You like working for Faith? He looked up to watch her expression. The motion drove a spike through his head--still, he kept his gaze locked on her.

Yeah, Faith’s great. I’d kind of like to get out of wardrobe, though. That sucks.

Gabriel laughed and it sent a shard of lightning through his brain. He rubbed his temples for a minute and then looked at her. She seems to think you’d be…let’s see, what was it she said? He glanced back at the paper on the desk in front of him. A sterling asset to your staff. Gabriel studied the girl as she sat there twisting her hands and waiting. Wow. Can’t beat that, can we?

Brown curls fell loose from her tight bun on the top of the head that shook hard in answer to his question.

Why an assistant? She didn’t belong here. The nappy, tight curls that clung to her head lacked the sophisticated polish of an executive in this industry… hell, in any industry. He grumbled inside. Her clean face, with only a trace of makeup was most definitely an indication of her middle-class, Midwestern upbringing. He wondered if she’d learned anything at all from the time spent in New York. How long had she even been there? He looked again at the letter from Faith. No dates. Very sneaky, Faith, he muttered.

Hmmmmmmm?

Nothing. Gabriel waved her off, still lost in his own thoughts. She had a nice dress. Casual, neat and clean, but her appearance wasn’t as professional as he was accustomed to in an assistant.

Gabriel searched the page in front of him and it made his eyes burn. You’ve never done anything like this before, right? He waited until she finished shaking her head. There’s a lot involved. He looked to see if she’d back down. She didn’t falter. You’d be an assistant to my first lieutenant. Gabriel pointed at an office attached to his own and Kia followed the motion with her eyes. It’s a twenty-four hour a day job. You’d have to move in.

I don’t live in!

Gabe looked up sharply with his eyebrows raised. You don’t, do you? How do you expect to be available whenever I need something? Whenever Bryan… he motioned to the empty office again with a weak wave of his hand, does?

I don’t expect to. I’ll be plenty available during normal business hours. Kia looked at the empty office, but her glance was interrupted by the loud laughter from the man on the other side of the desk.

Normal business hours? Girl, what business do you think you’re looking to get into? We don’t do normal.

What about…

Gabriel didn’t even let her finish. He’d seen her glance before he laughed. Yes. He does too. The look of shock and horror in the girl’s eyes would have made him laugh again, but the pain from the last outburst kept him quiet. Is that a problem? he asked. It is business. Nothing personal.

Relief flashed in the girl’s eyes.

Would it have been a problem if it wasn’t?

Wasn’t what?

Only business. In spite of the headache, he choked back a laugh. Her defiance was somewhat refreshing. It is.

It is what?

This was just a tad tiresome. Gabriel sighed as he answered, only business. Actually, he decided the entire conversation was becoming annoying. Your position requires it too.

I don’t live in.

Yeah, you said that. Refreshing defiance, or not, it was wearing him down. He squinted at her, but she held her ground. He decided to give her credit for that. It was a unique approach, and although it rarely worked in this realm, it was nice to see once in awhile in a world where ‘yes men’ were the rule of the land. Studying her more closely he decided he liked what he saw. She was feisty. Her eyes sparkled with an attitude that he had missed earlier in his alcoholic haze. It’s lots of responsibility. You’ll have to answer to Bryan and do everything he says and needs. Me as well, of course.

I work hard.

Gabriel cocked his head, suddenly up for this challenge. He had grown weary of the constant tide of assistants that came and went. The little seamstress would have to be a perfect fit if he decided to keep her. He gave a quick thought to simply packing her up and sending her back to Faith on the first bus, to live out her life in the costume department of some obscure New York theater. I move around a lot.

I love to travel.

That nearly made him fall out of his chair. One look and he knew that was stretching things--a lot. He doubted she had ever been away from home until she packed her bags to head for New York, and if he knew Faith, which he did, this baby bird had been completely under a protective wing the entire time there as well.

The phone rang and broke his concentration. Gabriel picked it up and mumbled a quick call you back, then turned his attention back to the little brunette. What’s your favorite music? He liked that the question took her off guard. She sat back as if struck by a bullet. That shouldn’t seem like such an unusual question considering the type of job you’re interviewing for.

Gabriel’s amusement turned to worry when Kia shifted nervously. The question made her uncomfortable. He didn’t like that one bit. Her gaze darted about the room in an attempt to avoid contact with his. Even though it was a bad sign, a part of him--his head specifically--was almost grateful. His eyes hurt. Still, her uneasiness at the question was a problem.

Maybe not, she finally managed to say, but I don’t see why it matters, really. I’m not going to be singing the music. Not gonna be writing it--just assisting the man who does.

It makes a big difference. It’s hard to be enthused about something you hate. You’ll have to be as involved, work as many hours, be right in the mess the whole way with me. You have to love it so much you want to live it.

Like a fan?

Gabriel shook his head slowly, God, no. Heaven forbid. Not ‘me.’ He sighed long and slow. "You don’t need to be enthused about me, just the music. Look. This job means long, hard, sometimes grueling hours doing boring stuff like stuffing envelopes, running around to radio stations, club DJs, making phone calls, and on top of all that, you have to make sure all the preparations for studio time, appearances, performances, etc, are all set up and ready according to specifications.

You have to be able to sell how much you love the music for the players that get it out to the public to want to put it out. You have to deal with promotion managers, stage managers, personal managers, and even their managers, and then… you’re not done." He saw her roll her eyes and felt a familiar sinking in his chest. He really needed ten assistants, not just two, but it was an up close and personal job and the more people that got involved, the harder it was to keep it together.

Look, Mr. Evans. I appreciate all that, but my taste in music isn’t what’s important here. My ability to do the job is. If you’re not satisfied with me, although I’d be damned hard-pressed to figure out how you came to that conclusion considering your hangover, then just say so. I’ll leave. There are other jobs in LA, you know.

Yeah, he agreed, but he didn’t feel the agreement in his chest. Then again, maybe it was just the heartburn. Look, the only reason it is so important is that you have to be about as charged up about what you’re doing as I do. Granted, you will never stand on stage in front of thousands and have to perform. You will have to work your ass off as hard backstage as I do onstage though.

Kia stared at him with a look that would have growled if she had given it a voice and Gabriel found himself in love with the attitude. She just might have the moxie to make a good assistant. You can start on Monday. The rock in his stomach didn’t get any smaller, but he would give her a try.

Kia deflated back into the chair. The defiance was gone and the little seamstress returned. Gabriel waited; the room was silent but he knew it was coming. The aftershock. The… there it was… the scream. Her energy burst forth and bubbled over, spilling from her lips in a raucous whoop that split his aching head. He didn’t bother to try and stop her. He simply laid his head back down on the desk in front of him and put his hands over his ears, hoping that this would not be a habit. Women’s screaming voices invaded his every waking moment, and many of his sleeping ones as well.

He waited for the hysterics to end and looked at her in a way he hoped would show that he was not amused at her professional breakdown.

I’m sorry, Mr. Evans. It won’t happen again. Kia blushed and picked up her purse to leave. But you can’t say I’m not enthused.

Gabriel couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his lips. Call me Gabriel. He stood and began to walk her to the door. See you at eight on Monday. As he closed the door behind her, the gentle click jackhammered his brain and he walked carefully back to his desk to collapse again in his chair.

***

Gabriel walked out of his office and stood in the empty outer room. The lights were dim, the desks empty. His glorious enterprise was still and quiet. He leaned up against his secretary’s desk, a mess with papers everywhere. His secretary needed a secretary. He laughed. Her coffee mug sat on the edge of the wooden top, half full and cold. Shaking his head he reached across and flipped the button on the side of the computer screen that still flashed.

He looked at his watch--seven o’clock; they’d be waiting. He was late. Hurrying, he maneuvered through the maze of desks and punched the button on the elevator. Too bad there hadn’t been anyone to tell him five years ago that music was a business. There had been a time when music meant his guitar and a microphone on Friday nights, Saturdays too if he was lucky. Playing in a crowded bar.

Where’s my driver! Gabriel barked when he reached the waiting machine that idled by the curb outside. Long and sleek, the stretch Lincoln had a life of its own as it purred in anxiousness. The doorman shrugged just as a short, pudgy figure hurried up to them from the doorway of a deli just down the street.

Sorry, he huffed as he swung the door wide for Gabriel to enter the luxurious interior.

Amos, do you ever stop eating? Gabe asked as he eyed the long, thin sandwich falling out of his driver’s hand. He slid into the waiting car. Some things were much better than the days of crowded bars. He smoothed the leather of the upholstered seat and pushed a CD into the player, letting the music drown out his thoughts of business as the car sped off to deliver him to his destination. Sinking further into the crushed leather, he smiled with serene pleasure--this was one of those things.

***

The doorman opened the glass doors of the studio building. The shiny reception area glared in Gabe’s eyes and made him squint. The tiny girl behind the desk smiled at him; his bloodshot eyes gave him away, he was sure. He returned her smile, but didn’t bother to write his name in the book on the edge of her desk. She would.

The long hallway of doors loomed before him. It wasn’t overwhelming now. It had been once. The first studio he had ever sung in came back to his mind. A dark building with a long, rickety staircase that led up to a small room with machines and another glassed in inside of it; a lone microphone inside a box and an open area where musicians would come and go to lay their tracks. The smell came back to him, even though no such smell existed in this bright, clean place, the smell of old wood and cigarettes. One smell, both past and present shared was the pungent, sweet aroma of the special cigarettes that producers believed gave them the edge.

Reaching the door that was his, for this night anyway, he turned the knob and walked into the small, tight entry. Two doors were there inside the dark space. One was solid, heavy, and had a light above it that was off at the moment, but which when they began would glare bright red. The other was half glass and he could see inside the booth that was up several stairs inside the door, brightly lit and full of expensive machinery. Clean, new and bustling with engineers waiting for him.

Hesitating for a moment at the door, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the cylindrical bottle there. He slipped two pills into his mouth, then turned the knob and walked in. He wrinkled his nose as the acidy, sweet smell bit at his nostrils.

Gabriel walked into the sound booth and greeted the crew that was there. They were happy to see him. There was no judgment on his condition from them; they only cared that he had bothered to show up at all. Even then, it barely mattered to them, as they got paid for their time if he showed or not, but it was more fun when they got to play.

Gabriel watched as a man who had been sitting at the control board got up and walked over to him. He was huge. If Gabriel didn’t know better he would have panicked at the size of the man approaching him with a menacing glare. Then, he was swooped up into a big bear hug that took his breath away.

Easy, Karl, Gabriel said, gasping for air as he pushed the massive hands away.

So good to see ya, man. I didn’t think you’d be alive today. You really tied one on last night.

Karl was one for exaggeration. Gabriel grinned as he thought how on the mark he was this time though. He felt his pocket, searching for the magic that would be necessary later, reassured to feel the lump that the packet created deep inside the folds of material in his jeans.

Let’s get started. Wanna get out of here early tonight. Gabriel shuffled over to the board that glistened with shiny knobs and blinking lights and played with the sliding tabs until Karl slapped his hand away. Huffing, he moved to the door of the room, preparing to go into the studio. He despised Fridays.

Playing for hours on end in a studio--any studio--was a far cry from the days in the bar, but he missed them. Now there were tours. They paled in comparison as well. There was no contact with the people that he played for, and he was untouchable. He was alone

***

Where is everybody? Gabriel asked the tall, slender brunette standing in the middle of the studio playing with the microphone in the booth and shuffling lyric sheets. Donna gave him a look that would melt steel and he grinned. She hated the groupies that normally invaded the studio when he was there. You wouldn’t hate them if they were there for you, he thought, but he knew better than to say it.

Thank God they’re not around tonight. It’s too distracting.

Gabriel smiled and nodded when a thin young man jumped up to greet him as he walked into the recording booth. Such an eager boy, he attended every session with great curiosity. Johnny was a recent addition to the band. Only a few short months into his new gig, he was still never at a loss for energy. Time will heal that, Gabriel thought. He put on the headset and collected his thoughts, trying to find the sheet with the words to one of hundreds of songs that were about to set on tape for posterity. One of hundreds that would probably end up getting cut to make up the final ten or so that would end up on the actual album.

Moaning, he shook his head as the music began and he missed the start. He closed his eyes to count to ten in order to control the knee-jerk reaction that he wanted to scream. He looked up at the booth and cringed. Karl winced back and then smiled weakly. It was going to be a long night.

Gabriel bent down and rummaged through his bag. Not finding what he wanted he tossed it aside and it skidded across the floor as he bellowed, where the hell is my inhaler? He waited and there was a look of general confusion on the faces of the people in the control booth.

Where’s Bryan? Gabriel sighed and waited. Bryan should have gotten there by now. He swore under his breath once more and shook his head. Fine. Let’s take it again. Gabe motioned to the glass wall and saw Karl hit the switch that would start the track again.

The music swam in his mind, creating a feeling of suspension. It was the feeling he sought every waking moment. Lost in the music he became the sound and he disappeared. The words formed on his lips and he heard his voice making the words sing. He knew it was his voice. He heard the sound, but his mind was in a different place. The place that created the music.

When the song ended he looked at the plate glass wall that separated the studio from the control room and waited patiently for a nod or a shake. He saw Karl smile and knew the nod would come quickly after. Turning he choked back laughter at the sight of Johnny standing directly behind Karl in the booth, his face flush with sweat. A full workout couldn’t have gotten him pumping harder than agonizing over how the performance would be received and it wasn’t even his own.

Wait, Gabriel thought again, this is nothing. Wait until there are forty thousand screaming people in front of us when we play. Wait until you have to agonize over that decision.

Here there was no fear. If they messed up their parts, they simply did it again, and again still, until it was right. On stage there was once. On stage the decision was final and unforgiving.

His throat scratched and burned and he felt the anger rise in his chest at Bryan’s absence. Doing it over and over would be easier with an assistant who had his act together.

The next song was a problem. He felt the fatigue of it settling into his bones as he held up three fingers to Karl, who groaned, his chest rising and his face showing the emotion clearly from beyond the glass in response to the request. He never seemed to be able to bridge this particular song in a way that was satisfactory to himself, or anyone else for that matter.

Hell, this song is three years old and was supposed to be on the last album, and the one before that. We have never been able to get it right. Give it up.

Gabriel heard his drummer’s voice play in his mind as he argued with him over sushi a week earlier in his living room, where they had all come together to discuss the tracks for the new disk and the same old argument had erupted. An argument they had every time Gabriel brought up this particular song. He and his drummer never agreed on this song. Steven hated it; Gabriel loved it.

He called for it anyway. They could discuss it over sushi until they were blue, but it was his call, and he remained committed. Gabriel clenched his jaw and set his shoulders, determined to get it down this time in spite of an evil look from Karl.

That’s it. Wrap it up, everyone. It was eleven and they were all tired. The rest of the crew was visibly relieved; they had spent the past two hours attempting to set the song in a way that pleased the boss, and at that moment, that seemed impossible even to him. The control room became a bustle of activity as they bumped into each other in their rush to leave. None of them appreciated his late hours on a Friday night either.

Leaving the studio, Gabriel walked down the hall to the men’s room at the end of the corridor. He slipped into a stall and closed the door behind him, sinking down to the porcelain, still fully clothed. He looked around as if anyone could see inside the metal walls. Satisfied that he was truly alone, he quickly pulled out a tiny envelope of folded paper from his pocket and opened it in his palm.

Sitting back, he waited for the feeling. It hit his brain with a rush that made the close walls around him spin; then the colors sharpened and he stood up and straightened his shirt and tucked it in tighter. Smoothing his jeans and taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and walked out into the room.

Looking in the mirror he examined his face. His tired, bloodshot eyes stared back at him, but they were beginning to brighten up. A few more minutes, he told himself. Time to kick in and he’d be fine.

He stiffened as the door opened and a stern looking man walked in. Gerald Stein, CEO of Imperial Records; what in God’s name was he doing there? Gabe tried to remember a single time he had seen his record company’s head exec even bother to venture downtown to the studio he used most often for recording. In fact, he couldn’t think of a single time he had seen the man at any studio; it was below those at the executive level to even bother with the grungy side of recording. Gabe studied the man next to him at the sink as he washed his hands, looking down to make sure there were no powder marks on his sleeves.

Have a good session? The tall, imposing man looked over at Gabe.

Gabriel winced, sure he had noticed him shift, trying to keep his cool, trying to look straight. Great. Still can’t get the third track.

It’s been six months, Gabe. We’re tired of carrying your butt. Wrap this puppy up, and wrap up quickly. Do you understand me? Gerald straightened his tie in the mirror, then looked back at Gabriel, who had leaned back against the wall of the stall for support. If the song reeks, dump it. He shook his head. And lay off the snort.

When the door slammed, Gabriel slumped, then pounded the metal wall behind him. It wasn’t his fault they pushed for new recordings every year. What did they expect anyway? He was a commodity act, always drew crowds, always sold heavy… never enough to please that jerk, he thought as he grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser.

He stepped back out into the hallway and mumbled good night to some of the crew that had gathered there to decide on whether to go for food, go for drinks, or just go home. Most of them looked ready for bed, Gabe thought. He gathered up his own entourage of security, then pushed open the front door and headed for his waiting car just as Bryan rushed up to it.

Well, look who decided to join us tonight. Gabe enjoyed the look of fear on Bryan’s face. I hired a new assistant today.

Bryan’s jaw dropped.

To replace Pauline. Gabriel paid no mind to the look of relief that crossed the younger man’s face. Do this once more and she’ll be replacing you.

The chauffeur opened the door and he slid in, leaving Bryan standing on the curb in shock. Gabriel’s body screamed at him to head home and go to bed, but he looked in the mirror on a visor above his seat and smiled.

The night’s young and it’s time to party, he said. The burly men in the back of the car ignored him as he talked to his reflection in the mirror. The driver pulled out from the curb and Gabriel leaned back, enjoying the