Tune My Heart (Chaos Book 1)

  Tune My Heart

  Copyright © 2021 by K.R. Reese

  All rights reserved.

  No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction.

  Any names, characters, places, or incidents are products of the author’s imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental or fictionalized.

  Cover Design by Vanilla Lily Designs.

  Edited by Kitka Buchanan.

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Want More Chaos?

  Sing to My Heart Teaser

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Books by K.R. Reese

  About the Author

  I growl and bend down to pick up the papers that I just scattered all over my office floor. There was an urgent email at six this morning from my boss for a meeting that we’re required to attend. I was late for work and now I’ll be late for the meeting, too.

  Giving up on organizing the notes, I toss them on the desk and head to the boardroom. As I sit at the conference table, Mike, my boss stares daggers at me. He excused my tardiness this morning, but now I think he’s going to take back his words. I’m so screwed.

  Lately, I wish I could blend into the walls surrounding me and be invisible from everyone. Especially when I get the disapproving looks from all my colleagues combined. I didn’t hate my job, not really, but these unexpected, you better be there, meetings were getting old.

  “I’m sure you’ve all noticed Carissa’s absence. She’s going to be out the next few weeks. Her grandfather passed away last night and she’s taking some time off to help her grandmother.”

  Of course, I already knew this; we’ve been best friends since grade school. She had been so excited about her upcoming assignment, touring with a band that had disappeared for the better part of two years with no explanation. Chaos, I think.

  “Haven,” Mike sighs. “Carissa insisted that I assign you to go on tour with Chaos. They’re starting the tour this weekend.” I hadn’t missed the tone of his voice or the glares from the others in the room. He’s unsure, and they’re all pissed.

  “I’ve never done a huge assignment before,” I finally reply.

  “Carissa said you’ve helped her on every article she’s done, even before you were working here.”

  “That doesn’t make me qualified to go on tour,” I protest.

  “Then maybe you should find a new job, Haven, because this is your assignment, and if you turn it down, I’ll have to let you go.”

  “But, they, they’re,” I can’t respond properly. My mouth’s dry.

  Mike slides a folder to me from across the table with a smirk on his face. “Enjoy your new assignment. There’s the schedule of all their tour, what other bands will attend each show and deadlines for each piece of the article. You’re all excused.”

  I skim through the documents, avoiding the word vomit trying to escape. Mike sits, tapping his fingers on the table, waiting for me to say something. Anything. I sigh in defeat.

  “Look, Haven, I wasn’t going to hire you. We didn’t need another journalist at the time, but Carissa stepped up and fought for you. She said you needed it after your mom passed.” He stops, standing at his end of the table. “Now, you’ve become one of the best journalists we have. I think you can do this, even if you’ve never done it before.”

  Mike closes the door and all I can do is sit. Rubbing my hands over my face, I go through the rest of the folder. Their first show is in two days. My plane ticket and hotel accommodations for Massachusetts are already set. And I have nothing packed for months of traveling. Shit.

  I wasn’t meant to interview people. I did the research, helped Carissa map everything out. She did the talking. We worked good as a team like we always have. I crumbled under scrutiny and words got stuck in my throat. How was I going to pull this off and not lose my job?

  My dream hadn’t been to work for a major magazine. I’d gone to college for journalism because I loved to research and write. My plan had consisted of staying in my hometown and writing articles for the local paper. It hadn’t been much, I knew that, but it was my goal. It was something outside of the reality of my home life. When my mom passed, I stopped doing everything. It wasn’t like I did much of anything before, I wasn’t allowed. Mom had strict rules that weren’t meant to be broken, and I’d abided by them my entire life.

  Girls like you don’t go out with your friends. That isn’t where you're supposed to be. Too much trouble can happen. Mom’s words still echoed through my head on occasion. Apparently, today was one of those days.

  Standing and taking the folder with me, I storm out of the room in anger. I was walking into a nightmare, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I needed to talk to Carissa. She hadn’t given me any warning that she was promoting me to take over her articles for the Chaos tour, and I needed to hear her say the right things.

  I hit one on my speed dial once I’m behind the closed door of my office. She picks up instantly.

  “Skye, don’t be mad at me.” I smile. Carissa had called me by my middle name for as long as I could remember. It always eased the tension knotting in my stomach.

  “I want to be. No, I am. But not as much as I thought I was five seconds before you picked up the phone. How the hell do you expect me to do this, Car? I’m going to fail in epic proportions. You could’ve picked anyone in the office. Tina or Brittany would have been amazing for the job. They like music. They like to talk.”

  “And they would’ve tried to sleep with one or more of the band members before the tour even started, Skye. That’s why you’re going. You’ll get it done the way I would. You do know music. You’re always humming something, and don’t forget I’ve heard you sing and play guitar. Chaos is different than other bands I’ve done articles on. They disappeared. Poof. Gone. Their label and their managers won’t discuss why, and Lukus is an asshole. He refuses to be interviewed. Manage to get that, and you’ll have any assignment you want.”

  I don’t know what to say about everything she tells me, so I stay silent.

  “Listen, Haven, you’ll thank me later. You’ve never taken an opportunity to experience anything. You’ve never explored a lifestyle you aren’t accustomed to. You’ll do fine.”

  I’m so doomed. “You know this is a disaster waiting to happen, right?”

  “Relax. Breathe. Have fun. I’m a phone call away if you need anything.”

  Speaking with Carissa made me feel a little better, but I was still on edge. Chaos doesn’t have a good reputation for cooperating with reporters. Any video of them being questioned is a nightmare. They aren’t going to react well to someone following them around all the time, every stop, every show, every hotel. Even though their manager is the one who hired us.

  I ask Mike for the rest of the day off, so I have time to pack. A shopping spree should’ve been in order before this trip, but since I didn’t know about it, that isn’t happening. I tune to their Spotify channel while I’m going through my clothes. I hate their mus
ic. I hate their songs. The bass is too loud. Maybe because it differs so drastically from my own tastes: Dixie Chicks, Tim McGraw, Kenny Chesney.

  After I’m satisfied with my traveling choices, I lay down for bed. My flight is set to leave at 7 AM which meant getting up at four to get through the mess at the airport. I plug my phone in and check that the alarm’s set. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

  When I was in one of my moods, everybody steered clear of me. Most of the time, I hated myself. I had self-destructive behavior and I didn’t care who I took with me when it happened. My insecurities plagued me, but I couldn’t let anyone else see that. It made me weak.

  I stared at the ceiling inside the bus and let the thoughts take over my mind. I needed tonight. Needed the show, the scream of thousands of fans. Everything I’ve been missing for the last two years. It was great to be back, but I knew this time couldn’t be the same. I could invest all my time into our music, but I couldn’t invest it into the lifestyle I used to lead. It only caused problems for me and the entire band. They were the only family I had, and I couldn’t lose that.

  Everyone pegged me as an inconsiderate asshole. The playboy rockstar. They weren’t wrong. I was, and some part of me still is. It comes with the territory. But I let myself get too far into the lifestyle and almost threw everything away. It didn’t only affect me, it affected the entire band. The guys who had always had my back, and never gave up on me.

  My phone signals a text message from Trey saying they’re grabbing lunch, and do I want to join? I wasn’t in the mood for company and I didn’t want to piss any of them off today. My fingers go to reply, but the bus door opens and in walks Trey.

  “You don’t have a choice, Luk. You’re going to eat with us because we aren’t going to let you sit here and torment yourself.”

  “So, you’d rather my bad mood taint everyone else’s?” I laugh as I follow him down the stairs and out into the sun. I’m trying to joke, but it’s a serious question and he knows it.

  Bryce and Zane are waiting for us beside the van. Before we can leave, Kevin, our manager runs towards us. “I don’t need to tell you guys not to be late. I don’t think you’re that stupid since it is your first show.” He stops and meets each of our gazes. “But, there’s something I wanted to tell you. We hired a journalist for the tour. She’s supposed to be here at three. I’ll introduce all of you, but I expect you to behave. She’s writing articles for a major magazine for each show, and you need the publicity. Don’t screw it up.”

  We all nod and climb in the van. “Why the fuck did they hire a journalist? There’s only so many questions one person can ask before it’s the same old shit, right? Why does she have to be along for the entire tour?” I wasn’t asking any single person, but I expect them to answer anyways.

  “Kevin’s right, though. We do need the publicity. The entire tour seems like a stretch, but it’ll do some good,” Trey replies, rolling his eyes.

  We decided on a small diner a few blocks from the venue. It was outdated, but looked clean and the food smelled amazing. After we eat our food and go to head out, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Kevin flashes across the screen.

  “What did we do now, Dad? We just finished eating.”

  The sigh from the other end of the line told me he wasn’t amused. “The journalist arrived a little early. Get back here so we can get this out of the way.” When I thought he was finished, he goes on. “She’s young and awkward meeting new people. Behave yourself, Luk.” The line goes dead.

  Everyone acts like I’m the biggest dickhead on the planet, and to a point, they aren’t wrong. My reputation for the last five years isn’t stellar, but it’s what makes the fans go crazy, keeps them coming back. I know that isn’t all it is. Women flock to us like moths to a flame. But that doesn’t mean I’m the heartless asshole of the group. Trey, Zane, and Bryce have had their fair share of stunts that the label didn’t like, but none have done the damage I have.

  I’m glad I hadn’t eaten at the hotel before heading to the venue. There were already people lined all around the building and the show didn’t start for another 4 ½ hours. My nerves were causing me to panic, and I hadn’t even spoken with anyone yet. I had brought my laptop and camera with me. I’d need the laptop for notes during interviews and the camera for pictures during the show.

  A man, probably in his late 30s, was directing people everywhere at the back of the venue where I had been told to park. I was supposed to meet the manager, but had no clue where to look.

  “Excuse me, I’m looking for Kevin? I’m Haven Prescott, the journalist from Passage magazine, and – “

  “I’m Kevin. It’s nice to meet you. Let’s walk, and I’ll show you where you’ll be.” I follow along silently, taking in every view. I’d done a lot of research for Carissa in the past, but I’d never gone to the events she covered. This wasn’t my thing, and my stomach kept reminding me of that. It was in knots and I wasn’t processing much information. We stop in a hallway with doors at one end and the stage at the other.

  “This is where you’ll be. You can go anywhere backstage, just stay out of people’s way. Don’t distract the band while they’re preparing. You’ll have a chance to meet them after the show. You can take as many pictures as you want as long as you aren’t ordering them around. Understood?”

  I nod, trying to absorb everything at once. This was nerve-wracking. My mind was trying to keep up but failing. Maybe I should’ve eaten something to stay focused.

  “Ah, there they are.” I turn my head in time to see four men walking toward us. I knew who they were, and it sent a new wave of knots through my stomach. This was going to be a long year.

  “Haven Prescott,” he says. “This is Chaos. Meet Lukus Parker, Trey Reed, and Bryce and Zane Thompson. This is the journalist I was discussing with you.”

  Trey, Zane, and Bryce shake my hand and ask some questions. They’re all smiles. Lukus stands back and just stares at me like I’m an infection he wants to be rid of. It makes me uncomfortable and I squirm. That brings a tilt to his lips that he tries to suppress.

  Once they’re practicing, I wander around backstage to find a drink. There’s a soda machine around the corner and I dig change from my pocket. I can’t stop picturing Lukus’ dark eyes and clenched jaw. Someone who looks like that should be illegal. Or at least wear a warning sign. His stare, though, was murderous. All the research said he didn’t like being interviewed, but I hadn’t realized that meant he was going to be hostile when I was around.

  I shake my head to try and clear my inappropriate imagination. This is my job. I’m not supposed to ogle any member of my assignment. But, damn it, they weren’t supposed to be as attractive as their pictures portrayed.

  I make my way back toward the side of the stage and lean against the wall. I could be out in the seats getting some amazing pictures, but this is the first show and I don’t want to freak them out by being in their face about it. An uncomfortable sensation washes over me like I’m being watched. I look up to catch Lukus with his eyes set on me. I didn’t want his attention. I escape to a room and start up my laptop, ignoring the pounding of my pulse.

  After we warm up, my goal is to find somewhere quiet to relax. The rest of the band are free to do as they please until it’s time to go on, but I don’t participate in anything before the show anymore. Or after.

  My mind wanders back to the woman with the auburn hair and hazel eyes. Haven. I hadn’t meant to come off as cold when Kevin introduced us, but there was something about her that stunned me silent. And when she caught me watching her, she ran like her ass was on fire. My thoughts are so preoccupied that I don’t notice that the room I just walked into isn’t empty until a gasp draws my attention.

  I register that Haven’s eyes are saucers. She quickly recovers, snaps her laptop shut, and stands.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was your room. I’ll get out of your way.” She tries to bolt past me to the door and my hand catches her upper arm. She
stands frozen. You can be civil to her.

  “Whoa, slow down, pretty girl. This isn’t my room. It’s open to anyone. I was looking for somewhere quiet before the show. Go back to what you were doing, I won’t bother you.”

  I hear her labored breathing slow down slightly and she walks to the opposite side of the room, opting for the table along the wall rather than the couch she had been seated on.

  I roam my eyes over her from head to toe. Her hair’s pulled up into a sloppy bun on top of her head, little strands falling around her face. Haven was beautiful, not like all the women at our shows. All the women I’ve invited back to our bus.

  I turn away from her, not wanting to invade her privacy. “Why have you never been interviewed?” She’d been paying such close attention to the laptop in front of her that I barely hear her words. “Why don’t you like journalists?”

  I hadn’t meant to laugh, but her words were true. I hated journalists, hated the questions, hated the curiosity written all over their face. “Our lives are public because of who we are. Any little bit of information is usually twisted to make a better story. Half the websites with a supposed interview are fake. False information meant to keep people interested.”

  I run a hand over my face. This is why I avoid conversation, but Haven piqued my interest when she ran away. She didn’t want to be near me, didn’t want to be close to me. Maybe the chase had me interested, a challenge I had to conquer. Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to let Haven walk away again.

  “I don’t bite, you know? You could sit over here.”