I had been stuck in that studio forever! I was so fucking pissed! The only reason we were in there so long was because of Asher and his fucking bullshit!
We were finally finished with the album. Now it was off to edits and credits. We were finished with it and I was done with that fucker for the next couple months.
I tried calling Cortney seven times in the two hours that I’d been out of the studio and had gotten no response. I tried stopping by her apartment and she wasn’t there. She wasn’t even at work tonight. It was her family’s dinner party. Was she ignoring me on purpose?
Did I do something wrong? Maybe I was a little too rough with her. We were pretty crazy that night.
I had only 30 minutes to shower and get next door for the dinner at her parent’s house. Hopefully she’d be there and we could have some time to talk. I needed to tell her how I hadn’t meant to go off the radar on her.
I put on the suit our band’s stylist had picked out for me. I hadn’t had any real reason to wear it until now. It was a charcoal gray and black ensemble and looked pretty good on my ass, if I didn’t say so myself.
I put a little gel in my hair and gave myself a smile in the mirror, knowing that the rich socialites would shit themselves when they realized they’d invited me to dinner.
Then my smile grew even bigger. Imagine what their thoughts would be if they knew what I’d done to their daughter; what she’d asked me to do to her. Hell, what I wanted to do to her again.
I was let into the house by a man in a tux, who asked me what I preferred to drink. He led me to the open living area where there must have been around forty people standing in clusters about the room.
The vast area was made up of white marble floors, decorative champagne colored pillars and fancy artwork. The furniture, sparsely set around the room, was white and gold and there was a massive fireplace with two very expensive looking chandeliers hanging from the tall ceiling.
I didn’t see Cortney anywhere. Fuck. Where was she?
“Ross, who do we have here?” A pristine looking gentleman asked, walking to meet us.
“This is Mr. Jason Chandler, Sir.” Ross stated as he gave a nod, “Your neighbor.”I could see the likeness to his Cortney. It had to be her father. I had to admit his smile didn’t fade when he saw me standing there though, which surprised me.
“Ah, yes,” the host grinned wider, reaching out a hand. “The beautifully picturesque house on the hill.”
“You must be Mr Rudson,” I smiled, with a handshake. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Oh, call me Charles, or Charlie. We can see your home from the back patio.” I remembered that Cortney said. They had been checking me out. “Tell me, is the view up there as nice as I’ve been led to believe?”
“It’s spectacular, Sir,” I smiled back, “You should see it sometime.”
Ross brought my drink and I thanked him as he walked away.
“Charles, who do we have here?” A small, thin blonde came up to him, scoping me out the entire time. I could tell that although Charles welcomed me, she had other thoughts.
“This, my dear, is our neighbor, Mr. Chandler,” he smiled to his wife, “Mr. Chandler, this is my wife, Angela Rudson.”There was no doubt in my mind that this woman was Cortney’s mother. She was like an older version of Cortney with a different nose.
The way she looked at her husband before turning to me said it all, but she covered it well.
“Mrs. Rudson,” I gave her a nod, “Nice to meet you, but you can both call me Jason.”
“Likewise,” she smiled nervously, “Call me Angela. I just hate that you’ve been in that house for several years and we haven’t met until now. It was so rude of us.”
“It was all on my end. You’ve invited me more times than I can count, I just travel a lot and I’m rarely home.”
“Oh?” her father perked up, “What is it you do you do for a living, Jason?”
“I um, play the drums in a band,” I smiled widely.
Charles’s smile was bright and his eyes glistened happily. I could tell that he was honestly intrigued, but Angela’s smile stiffened.
“That’s interesting, I dabbled some in college. What kind of band are you in?” Charles’s smile was bright and his eyes danced happily. I could tell that he was honestly intrigued, but Angela’s smile stiffened.
“A Hard Rock band,” I said clearing my throat. Here we go, “Black Heart.”
“Oh, I haven’t heard of them, but they must be popular to bring you to our neck of the woods.”
“We’re one of the top five in the US.” I gave a nod and his eyes widened, “We just completed our fourth album today actually, and are expected to hit the top.”
“You know, we have a daughter who...” He began, but was cut off by his wife.
“Oh Lord, Charles!” Angela said looking upward, toward the balcony above us.
She grabbed her chest with one hand and her husband with the other, as though she was going to have a heart attack, “That girl is going to kill me!”
“Ah,” Charles turned to look in the direction of the staircase, “Forgive my wife. Our youngest daughter likes to test her mother’s frailty. Today is no different I see, but she’s as beautiful as always.”
“You just encourage her!” Angela scolded him.
“Well, have you seen her sister?” he joked with his wife, “That one looks exactly like me. Cortney is my little angel. She’s just as beautiful as you, My Dear.”
I turned to look in the direction they were gaping and my jaw dropped.