The Rockstar Chronicles

And we're here....

It was hot! Hot and humid. It's too early in the year to be like this, I thought as I exited the airport. It's supposed to be spring! So far I was not impressed with the town that was going to build a brand new band and make my brother famous.

Nashville.

"I thought we would be going somewhere with a beach," I complained to Mom for the millionth time as we waited outside. "Like Florida or California."

"Well, Nashville is a music town, after all," Mom said, attempting a brave face before caving. "I was thinking it might be New York...." The regret in my Mom's voice was so obvious I couldn't help but smile.

We stopped at the crosswalk while Mom caught her breath, trying in vain to fix her already limp hair. "Where is our ride?" she said, crows feet appeared at the corners of her eyes as she searched the long line of cars.

"Did you see the airport?" Grady frowned. "I didn't think people really wore cowboy hats in Tennessee. Like, as a daily thing."

"They don't," a man said as he approached us. He looked friendly at first glance, but there was a hardness in his eyes I didn't like. "Tourists," he explained.

He offered his hand to my mother, who took it after glancing at us, uncertainty in her eyes.

"I'm Grant," he said. His gray eyes and graying hair matched perfectly. Almost too perfectly. "I think I'm waiting for the same ride you are." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "You're part of the group, right?"

Mom nodded.

"I just got off the phone with them. Delayed by traffic or some excuse." He rolled his eyes, stepping back and releasing Mom's hand. I could see him sizing Grady up out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm sorry, are you with the studio?" Mom asked.

"Oh, no," Grant laughed. "I'm one of the parents. Uncle, actually. Of Hardyn Vinyard."

He let that sink in.

"I'm his manager and guardian," he explained.

"Oh," Mom nodded slowly.

I giggled and Mom shushed me. I didn't mean to be rude, it just came out. Hardyn Vinyard was not good news. He was currently in a legal battle, requesting emancipation from his parents.

"I thought he was in a band already?" Grady said, confused. He didn't exactly keep up with the latest news.

Grant carefully maintained his smile, but the slight stiffening of his jaw and the twitch of his cheek muscle gave it away.

"There are rumors it's breaking up," Mom said, getting right to the point. She didn't mind beating around the bush or sucking up to people, but when it came down to it and our success was on the line, she spoke her mind. "Which are apparently true." A thoughtful expression came over Mom's face. Uh oh.

A long black car pulled in beside us, interrupting Grant before he could reply. A chauffeur jump out, rushing around to help us load our baggage. I stayed out of the way, wiping the sweat from my brow once more, though it instantly reappeared. I was the last one in the car, following Grady in and taking a seat beside him.

The interior was frigid, the air conditioning making goosebumps appear on my instantly clammy skin. I shifted uncomfortably, peeling my legs from the leather seats. Grant pulled out his phone, focusing on it for the entirety of the ride.

I watched the airport recede into the distance as we merged onto the interstate. Buildings and signs flashed by as we drove, but I didn't pay close attention as I watched them go by, my head against the glass. I felt dazed, disconnected from this town. Finally, we pulled up in front of a huge glass and concrete building. It was brand new, lining the sidewalk along with several other identical, sterile buildings.

"Is this where we're staying?" Mom asked, craning her neck to peer up through the tinted windows.

Grant barked out a laugh. "This is headquarters. It's the meeting today."

"The meeting?" Grady asked. His fingers were white where they gripped the edge of the seat. I felt sorry for him. Though he looked completely calm and composed, I knew my brother. He was as nervous as I had ever seen him.

"With the other members of the band," Grant smiled sardonically. "Like it or not, you'll be tied to these guys for the rest of your lives."

"If the band makes it," I said without thinking, attempting to reassure Grady.

Grant shifted his chilling gaze to meet mine. When he spoke, his tone was soft, but a hint of a threat leaked through. Just enough to warn me.

"When the band makes it," he corrected me.

Without warning, the limo door flew open, breaking the awkward tension in the air. Grant and Mom climbed out, smoothing and readjusting their travel worn outfits on the sidewalk. Grady moved to go and, on impulse, I grabbed his hand, squeezing it. I think I felt a slight pressure as he squeezed mine in return.

But he didn't look back. He only paused for a moment before emerging from the limo into the bright sunlight, appearing self-assured and confident to everyone but me.

I watched from the dark interior. It was a strange view, staring at his back as he left, striding towards his future. I wondered how many more times I would watch from inside a vehicle, or the side of stage, or just off camera as he greeted his public, venturing into the unknown.

How many more times would I be with him beforehand, sitting with him while he was a bundle of nerves, anticipating an interview, a performance, a red carpet? My last view the waiting crowds, the flash of lights, his back blocking them out before he left me behind and went forward once more. Before the door closed, the noise dimmed, and the light faded.

Watching through the window as he walked away.

Just like this.

A lot people saw the front, the exterior, the light.

I had a feeling my view was going to be very different.

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