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  Giving Up the Ghost

  A 13 Shades of Red Novel

  Rhys Bellamy is the front man for the wildly successful 13 Shades of Red, a band hailing from New Orleans that is just a bit more then they appear. He’s sexy, caustic and on a path of self destruction that has everything to do with the fact that he can speak to the dead. A man hounded by the death of his fiancée, Rhys is a lothario of the highest caliber. His life, his band, and his agony celebrates his lost love, Phaedra, and it has made him a very popular man with the ladies, even if they will never mean anything to him. Too bad Phaedra has never and will never contact him.

  When the band’s first US tour meets with some unforeseen management issues, Saffron Richards is brought in to take care of it. A veteran of the business, Saffron knows all about Rhys and his reputation and doesn’t want to become another notch on his belt. Too bad fate has it in for the both of them, and gives them an attraction neither can deny.

  But life on the road with an up and coming band has its problems, from bosses to groupies to just plain old flat tires. And Phaedra, who has been watching from the mists and reveling in the misery of her lost lover doesn’t want to see him happy. Being together is harder than it sounds, especially when Phaedra crosses the veils on All Hallows Eve to reignite the love that Saffron has set to ash in Rhys. And Phaedra is not giving him up without a fight. Not because she loves him, but because she doesn’t ever want him to forget.

  WARNING: This New Adult novel contains mature content. Reader discretion is advised.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Giving Up the Ghost A 13 shades of red novel

  A Sisters Price E book

  Copyright© 2013 Stella and Audra Price, S.A. Price

  Cover Artist: Stella Price

  Interior text design: Stacee Sierra

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  PLEASE NOTE: All lyric snippets copyright of their writers and bands. All lyric snippets found online via lyric lists and other websites. We do not in any way hold copyright or permissions over these songs.

  Dear Reader,

  Writing this book is, in part, a purging of five years of my life. See, what a lot of people that write these rock and roll stories don’t do is actually live the lives they are writing. I did. For years I (Stella) did the rock and roll bit. It was fun, it was wild, and I don’t miss it for all the tea in China.

  What I need to express, and make you understand is that this is EXACTLY what it is like on the road (well except the supernatural side of it, but maybe that’s because I didn’t tour with anyone who was from the supernatural set.). This is not an exaggeration. This is exactly how girls are treated by the bands, and while some people might think it’s glamorous, it’s not.

  While this is fiction, it is rooted in truth, the scenarios written while on tour have happened, and I have changed the names to protect the innocent, but I assure you these things can and do happen. It’s not a life I would wish on anyone that has any notions about relationships and forever, because this life isn’t conducive to monogamy. It takes a special kinda girl to be able to handle the shit that goes on on the road, and few can rise to the occasion without coming away with a whole heap load of issues and problems with intimacy, myself included. Scars, be they physical or emotional, are souvenirs you never lose as The Goo Goo Dolls say.

  I tell you this for no other reason but to discourage you from doing this. No one I know that lived this life got out unscathed. Disease, emotional problems, hard feelings and babies follow you forever. I was lucky, but so many others weren’t, people I still call friends.

  Rhys and the band are the better part of my memories of a life of unnamed faces, anonymous highways and far too many days of living out of a suitcase. I think the best thing I came home with after the ordeal was that I can pack for a month into a pilot’s case. Well that, and the words herein. I hope you enjoy Rhys and the band… because we enjoyed writing them.

  S.A. Price

  2012

  For Nat, Biz and Laura. Three people that understand the words herein in a way that scares me. And for Trisha Wolfe, who figured out where this insane book fit for readers.

  Chapter One

  Just a fading, fucking reminder of who I used to be-Nine Inch Nails

  The road, as always, comes with unforeseen surprises, and issues.

  Rhys hung his head and scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck and let out a deep sigh. It figured something like this would happen, and not even three weeks into the damn tour.

  He looked up then around the room before him at Randy, their tour manager, hooked up to life support, eyes closed. Eyes that would probably never open again. Shit.

  They all knew what brought him to this, utter rock and roll stupidity. When his boss had hired Randy, no one knew of the kid’s drug habit, or that it was going to escalate to the point of no return. And now Rhys was here, far from grief stricken, more like pissed off and gearing up to use his gift.

  It won’t be long now kid… His guide, his grandfather Reemus, said from his stance next to the door. He leaned against the window, unseen to anyone, as the dead usually are. Not that anyone else could hear him either, Rhys was gifted that eccentricity alone. You about ready to do what needs done?

  Rhys frowned and looked over at his dead relation. “Why the hell do I have to do this? I would much rather pull the goddamn plug myself. Son of a bitch has set us back at least three days, all because of his fucking habit. X is not going to be pleased.”

  Nor the fans kid, I’m sure. Still it has to be done. Ya need to do this, ya got the gift for a reason kid, and it’s been far to long squandered. Use what the good lord gave ya kid, lest he take it away.

  Yeah, cuz didn’t that just sound like heaven? He made a sound of disgust, Rhys’s“I see and speak to dead people” routine had gotten old soon after he got the full grasp of his abilities, and he had been trying to drown them out with alcohol for years. Especially after the issues with Phaedra. Still, things had gotten better and he was trying to do what his guide and relation asked, but this was ridiculous.

  “Ugh, let’s just get this over with.” He said as he sighed.

  Any time now kid. The machines can’t hold off what’s meant to be.

  He watched the bed, and felt nothing. He barely knew the guy. Being on the road for a few weeks doesn’t lend a person to bond with someone, not really. Rhys had barely spoken to their new manager outside of getting his per diem and the skinny on when they were going to bounce from the venue. Not that anyone did. With the new guy, it was mostly an, ‘us and them’ mentality between the band and the management. Could that have contributed to the kid’s OD? Maybe. But it couldn’t be helped now.

  He felt the last vestiges of life leave Randy, something that made him cringe every time. Like a vicious tattoo being put on his skull, the feeling always gave him vertigo. It was a good thing he was standing with his hands against the wall. The body therein was just a husk now, being kept animated by the man made electricity that flowed through it.

  Showtime Kid…

  Rhys opened his eyes to see a transparent remnant of their manager frowning at him. Rhys waited as it moved forward, and through the wall. Randy the remnant was surprised with what he did. Bet he never experience that on a bender.

  Reemus moved further away, less the new remnant feed off
his essence, something the dead tried to avoid at all costs. The kid looked over at Reemus, and then down at himself, still utterly confused about what the hell was going on.

  Rhys wasn’t willing to wait for the kid to get his bearings. “Yep, your dead, and you did it to yourself, Randy.”

  Randy frowned harder. Dead? Bullshit! I’m standing here talking to you aren’t I? Now I admit this is one fucked trip I’m on, but dead?

  Rhys shook his head. They never believed him, not at least until he did something to prove it, and it was going to suck. He took his hand off the wall and stuck it right through the spectral body of his manager while gritting his teeth against the energy leech the soul attempted. Thankfully, it was still a newborn, and it couldn’t do much but make him prickle. He wasn’t going to be here long enough to learn anything deeper either.

  “’Fraid so. And not only did you leave this plane quite unexpectedly, but you left the damn tour as well. Thanks for that. Couldn’t you have told us you had a problem?”

  Randy gave him a sneer and then his eyes went wide as Rhys pulled his hand out of his torso. “So any unfinished business? And I don’t mean that fucking 8-ball we found in your room.”

  Realization finally hit the guy and his eyes turned soft with regret. Kid didn’t mean it, and he just realized his mistake. I… no. It doesn’t matter. But… he looked at Rhys. My mother… She, she’s not well.

  Wasn’t that always the way. Rhys sighed and shook his head. “Shouldn’t you have worried about that before you decided to go all Belushi on us?”

  I did… Shit. She’s really sick man. I’m a fucker of a son, okay, but she… she needs her medications… She won’t recover from this.

  “That’s something you should have thought of kid. I can’t do nothing for that. X will have to deal with that, and she’s not going to be happy.”

  Fair enough. But… there’s an account, two actually, Numbers six four three three and five two one seven. Both are with First National. They are for her. Please make sure…

  Rhys nodded. “Done. You about finished? I have a lot to do tonight and this is not the way I wanna end it.”

  Randy shrugged and nodded and Rhys looked to Reemus. “All set. Take him.”

  Reemus walked closer and a small light appeared in his hand, brilliant, but small and it lifted and floated towards Randy. Rhys stepped back as the ball hovered, doing a once over of the remnant and then came to the front of him and stopped pulsating.

  Rhys watched, stepping back another step to the sidewall. He was thanking the gods that they were alone in the room, that the doctors weren’t on their way in. This could get messy, and quick.

  The white light pulsed several more times and went dark, an orange glow with a black center emanated from it.

  Oh. This wasn’t going to be good at all.

  Rhys cringed as the ball moved in on Randy, fused with his torso, sliding inside. It expanded, and grew, and seconds later, Randy was screaming and being enveloped in holy fire.

  Reemus watched with undisguised boredom and then it was over, the flames consuming Randy’s remnants, scorching an ethereal ring in the linoleum.

  Well that’s done boy. Ya did good.

  Rhys looked over at his relation and frowned as the energy was pulled outta him. Seeing a soul go to hell wasn’t something he liked doing. He enjoyed less the aftermath of fatigue. Still it had to be done, and now that it was, well, he could move on with things. It wasn’t his fault those who decided sent Randy downstairs. Some went up, some went down.

  “Yeah, well now that my mystical job is done, think you could skip out for a bit?”

  Reemus nodded and disappeared. As his guide he had the habit of just hanging about but right now, Rhys couldn’t deal with both his ghostly guide and his band. No, best to pick the living in this instance, the dead had no sympathy for one that gave up the precious spark of life. Not that Rhys did either, but he had to have some semblance of feeling for the asshole. He sighed again and composed himself to walk out to the rest of the band, and let them know it was done.

  ***

  “Madre de Dios! Dead! You’re kidding me!”

  The voice of his best friend and boss, Xxieda Rolla, sounded over the speakerphone.

  “I swear none of us knew X.”

  “We didn’t even know when we hired him. He even took a goddamn piss test! Son of a Bitch!” He knew his boss something…

  “As interesting as it is to hear you curse, what are we going to do?”

  Xxieda was silent on the other end for a moment and then sighed. “Well I suppose we are going to have to replace him, though I have to see who I can send out on short notice.”

  “X, love, we can handle a couple days…” Winter, his bassist said from behind him. “I mean we have three dates all in the Chicago area, and then a two day break till we get to Vegas for that gig. We can work it out without a tour manager before that. Though we are going to need someone to get the Vegas job done. You know that fuck of a promoter there would stop at nothing to get as much as he can outta the tour for as little as possible.”

  “You’re telling me that you guys can function without a babysitter, or more to the point, Rhys can function?”

  “Hey! I resent that! I have been sober and a high functioning individual for the entire tour, except for the first night. Its three dates X. I promise I will behave.”

  She was quiet a second longer and then sighed once more. “Rhys you better, or so help me!”

  “Cool your jets boss. I know what’s at stake. If you don’t do this, you would have to cancel the shows and the company would be out the revenue. I don’t wanna be a liability. Trust us, okay?”

  “Fine, Nyx?”

  Their female keyboard player perked up. “Yes?”

  “You’re in charge. Take care of the per-diem, the hotel arrangements, and anything else you deem important.”

  “Can Do X.”

  “Beauty. Now I have to handle the not inconsiderable task of finding you a first rate tour manager, and tell Randy’s family about his untimely end.”

  Rhys didn’t envy her any of it.

  “Have a good show tonight, and don’t worry.”

  Chapter 2

  I’m not exactly a salesman. Sure there’s a product I’m selling… -Cursive

  Saffron Richards looked at the email in front of her again and blinked. A hardcore band? Thirteen Shades of Red to boot? This was pretty fucking major, and pretty much a promotion, if she could pull it off.

  Saffron had been in the game a few years, working herself up from meager flyer runner for an upstate small time promoter to a promoter herself. Then club talent director at a mediocre club in the city, and later starting working as a Merch girl for several bands she was friends with, eventually becoming a band manager for several of them.. Tour managing was something she had dabbled in the last six months, running three bands on a 8 state, 14 city, 21 date tour, and that’s how she got to this email. Still it was a bit far fetched.

  In the past, she had worked for a lot of Emo and indie bands, dealing well with their fan base, and the venues. Noone was as notorious as Shades, and none of them had the insane fans that Shades had. She knew all about them, their charismatic and dead sexy lead singer with a horrible drinking problem, the bands meteoric rise to fame, the fact that they had never had a lineup change, and still had a woman as part of it all. By and large, they were the golden goose she was looking for to get her name out there, to make her a fixture in the business she loved so well… and that’s why this had to be a joke.

  The email was a job offer, detailing her duties, concessions, and payment for the contract, which was extremely generous given the situation, and a phone number, direct line to their record company’s owner, Xxieda Rolla.

  Surely this was a joke. How the hell did the woman track her down of all people, and why? She wasn’t qualified to run a national tour housed in arenas and 25k capacity venues, let alone what could be MTV’s new darlings. Hell they w
ere already all over Fuse and Much Music.

  Still, she was in no position to pass up this kinda opportunity. She picked up her cell phone and dialed the number, hoping it wasn’t a joke.

  “What?” A gruff but sexy voice said on the other end. Saffron’s heart fell. Gods it was a joke.

  “Hi, Um… This is Saffron Richards, I’m calling Xxieda Rolla, did I get the number wrong?” She cringed hearing how defeated and small her voice sounded.

  “Oh…” The male voice on the other end sighed and she heard the phone being covered up and then uncovered. “Yeah, one second.”

  She frowned. Whoever the guy was, he was unimpressed by her call. Seconds later she heard a feminine voice get on the phone and brightened.

  “Saffy, Sorry about that, Dante doesn’t like getting woken up for no reason.”

  Saffron looked at the clock. “Oh, Sorry I didn’t know it was too early to call you.”

  “Its not, my boyfriend was out late last night and is one hell of a grumpy pain in the ass when he’s not got his full eight hours.”

  Saffron couldn’t relate. She didn’t think she had slept a full night in the past five years. “Maybe his ass shouldn’t be out all hours of the night then?”

  As the words left her mouth she almost groaned. Way to get on your possibly employers bad side, passing judgment on her guy friend.

  Xxieda was quiet a second and then laughed her head off. “Ooh I knew I was right about you. This is going to work out well. Listen, I’m at my place here in the city, why don’t you come down so we can talk face to face?”

  Saffron looked at the clock. She had a little over four hours before her shift at the coffee shop, a job she had taken in between actual work gigs, to keep her brain occupied and the money rolling in. She could make it there and back with time to spare. “I could. Where are you located?”

  She wrote down the address, a midtown property close to the west side highway. “Great, I have to shower. I wouldn’t wanna subject you to me before my hair is done. Rats nest doesn’t even cover it.”

  Xxieda laughed. “NO problem. I’m here all day so take your time. See you soon.”