Chapter Two

“WELCOME TO THE Morning Mumble, where every star is discussed, debated, and debased!” Belinda Slate, the perky blonde hostess, chirped as she took her place center stage in front of the cameras. “We have a great show for you today; something unusual,” she added in as ominous a voice as she could manage without losing her wide smile. “Instead of highlighting a band that has already made it big across the galaxies, we’re highlighting a band that is brand-new and, in my opinion, sure to become the next big thing. Their first single is set to hit the holostores at exactly noon Milky Way time, and by the time they’re done on the Morning Mumble, I’ll bet there’ll be a waiting list the size of the Galaxy Mall! Here they are: the Four Kings!”

Cole took his eyes off the monitor backstage and joined his bandmates as they strode out under the lights. He caught a quick glance of his reflection right before he stepped in front of the live audience and had to hide a grimace behind a small smile.

His handlers back home had finally forced him to get eye-repair surgery. Cole went through three years of basic training without his faulty eyesight being a problem, but when it came time for his first real mission, the surgery had been mandatory. His glasses were gone. His light brown hair had been cut into a very fashionable, asymmetrical style with sky-blue streaks layered in, the same color as his eyes. Cole still wasn’t sure how he had managed to go from being a lowly new recruit one night, without even a vector assignment, to a potential superstar the next morning. He wasn’t entirely certain if he should have felt excited or appalled by everything that was happening to him.

“Now,” Belinda Slate said, giving another wide smile and a flip of her hair after they had all settled on the couches positioned center stage. “Tell us a little about how the band was formed. I’ve heard it’s a bit out of the ordinary!”

Queenie laughed and sat forward. “You could say that.” Queenie was their bass player and chief songwriter. She was talented and beautiful with naturally tanned skin, dark hair, and brown eyes with just enough of a slant to emphasize her prominent cheekbones. “The company wanted to experiment. They basically chose our names out of a hat. They wanted a bass player and my name came up first. It’s why Kingsley’s here when he’s already a star while the rest of us aren’t.” Queenie’s loud personality and good looks were clearly winning the audience, but Belinda’s smile took on a stiff edge as she listened to Queenie’s story.

“Well, if their experiment works, I’ll expect to see a number of thrown together bands appearing on the galaxy stage in the near future,” Belinda said with a giggle, easily bouncing back into her hostess role. “Now, where did the name the Four Kings come from?”

Kingsley laughed this time, overpowering Queenie’s quieter sigh of disgust. Kingsley was Black, dark-skinned, and thickly muscled, but his frame was still slim enough to fit comfortably behind a drum set. He had brilliantly colored holographic tattoos covering his arms; the ink looked three-dimensional and occasionally appeared to move and ripple above his skin. His deep voice as well as his history with the Black-Hole Surfers made the girls in the audience squeal when he spoke.

“It’s a play on our names,” Kingsley explained. “Mine’s obvious. Cole over there”—he gestured toward Cole who glanced upward and blushed at the sudden attention—“is Old King Cole from the Earth-generation nursery rhyme. Solomon, for those of you who have any Old-Earth religious memories, is named after one of the greatest Kings of Israel. Hence, the Four Kings.”

“Um,” Belinda began, but she was cut off by Queenie.

“The three kings,” Queenie snapped, looking so irate and beautiful as she spoke that even her anger endeared her to the crowd. “And one queen. But that doesn’t translate into a good band name, and I got outvoted.” She sat back in her chair with a pout.

Belinda quickly moved on. “Solomon, you play guitar. What experience do you have on stage?”

Solomon laughed awkwardly. “I’m the grandson of one of the stockholders of the company,” he said with a wide grin and a tilt to his chin that made his green eyes and vibrant red hair look even more appealing under the stage lights. “My name didn’t so much as get picked out of a hat as placed in the organizer’s hands. I play in my mom’s garage, and the squirrels rock out with me every morning until my mom turns off the electricity.”

“Interesting,” Belinda said, her smile not faltering even though Cole could see she was starting to think that having the band on her show was perhaps not the best of ideas. “So, Cole,” she said, turning toward Cole, where he was seated in a corner of the couch. He had been dreading this moment from the second he had heard they would be going on the show. He had passed all his sneaking and spying tests, but public speaking wasn’t anywhere in his training. “What is your role in the band?”

Cole looked up, his gaze catching first on Belinda’s plastic smile and then the avid eyes of the audience. He could feel his cheeks turning even redder, and he wished yet again that when they’d clipped his hair he had been allowed to keep the long bangs to cover his face.

“I sing,” Cole forced out, glad when he didn’t stutter.

“Right,” Belinda said, and her smile looked visibly strained now. “We have to go to a commercial break. When we come back, the Four Kings will play their single on our stage!”

The cameras dimmed and the stage came alive as the band moved off to get ready, the couches were removed, and their instruments were carted in from backstage.

“You’re doing great!” Misty said happily. She was their manager and the one responsible for the blue highlights in Cole’s hair. Misty was always smiling, but unlike Belinda, who seemed to smile just for the cameras, Misty genuinely enjoyed working with the band. “The audience loved your feminine anger, Queenie. And, Kingsley, you do know how to work the crowd.”

Misty strode over to Solomon to straighten the thick chain necklace he was wearing. She barely came up to his chest, and her mousy brown hair only gave her an extra inch of height. Solomon still looked shocked whenever such a tiny woman spoke to him.

“Sol, you played the homebody to perfection. Now you just have to prove that your mother was a fool for stopping your practice times. And, Cole”—she spun around and fixed Cole under her brown-eyed gaze—“you could use a little more backbone, but the audience ate your shyness right up. You were adorable. Now, go out there and sing! You’ll wow them.”

Cole may have been overwhelmed and seriously out of his depth, but they were giving him the chance to sing, to really and truly sing his heart out. Everything they did to him after basic training, from clipping his bangs to the eye surgery and all the stuff in between suddenly became perfectly acceptable the second a microphone was put in front of him.

The band took their places, and Cole clutched the microphone stand with one hand as the lights and cameras came back on.

“And here they are: the Four Kings performing their soon-to-be hit single ‘Love’s Devastation’ off their album Lover’s Lament!” Belinda introduced them, her usual over-the-top level of excitement firmly back in place.

Kingsley tapped out the beat. Solomon pulled off a guitar riff with a flash of fingers that showed just how much skill he really had. Queenie found the downbeat, and then Cole opened his mouth and sang.

 

Tearing me down, breaking my soul, and I can’t see it.

I can’t see you, manipulating me, destroying me.

’Cause I love you, and all that you do,

but you just want me, want to control me.

’Cause I love you, but you devastate me.

And when I’m ruined, damaged, shattered…you’ll leave me.

You’ll leave me!

 

Cole slowly closed his mouth, letting the last note of the ballad reverberate through the room. The acoustics in the studio were brilliantly constructed, making his voice almost echo, and the backing of the instruments gave his tone the depth singing in the shower had never produced. The song was slow, with breaks for solo action from Solomon and Kingsley, and there were a number of impressive vocal runs. Despite the fact that there were very few actual lyrics, the song managed to convey its painful message clearly and showcase their talent.

The audience sat in stunned silence for half a second before breaking into thunderous applause. Belinda trotted back onto the stage clapping loudly as well. It took her three tries until she could yell over the ongoing cheers, and she certainly no longer looked like she regretted having them on her show. “And that is the Four Kings and their single, ‘Love’s Devastation.’ Their first album, Lover’s Lament, will be available for sale in just three hours. Go check it out!”

Misty met them backstage in the green room with a wide smile on her face. She held up a data pad and pointed at a number.

“One million,” Solomon said, leaning over to read the number above Misty’s finger.

“That’s right; one million presales of your record across the galaxy in the last five minutes and growing. You guys are going to be supernova superstars!”

“What’s next?” Queenie asked as she cracked open the seal on a bottle of water. She passed the bottle over to Cole, who eagerly downed the contents. He hadn’t realized just how thirsty singing one song had made him.

“Well,” Misty said as she scrolled down her data pad. “We have filming time for two music videos today and tomorrow. We’ve just posted your concert arrangements on your website, so we’ll have to start putting a set list together.”

Kingsley was grinning over on the couch he had commandeered. Cole knew this was old news to him; the Four Kings was his third band, and his first had gone supernova. For Cole, however, all of these busy preparations were mystifying and slightly frightening. There really wasn’t any training for this sort of situation.

They were hustled out the back door and into a waiting car, which shot upward onto the sky highway toward the spaceport.

“We’re leaving Lacustrine for Helios,” Misty continued. “They’ve got the best setup in their desert.”

They reached the spaceport before Cole could even begin to imagine what filming on a desert planet would be like. The whirlwind of his life continued to spin as they were hustled through a side door. People who had seen their broadcast that morning recognized them and started screaming and pointing in excitement.

The company supplied their ship, so it had enough beds for all the band members and Misty without looking too ostentatious. They all settled into the lounge for the three-hour space flight to Helios, the neighboring planet.

“Which songs are we putting to video?” Kingsley asked from where he was sprawled in one of the chairs across from the couch Cole was perched on.

“We have to do ‘Love’s Devastation’ after that performance,” Misty said. “But we haven’t decided on the second one yet.”

“We should do ‘Queen Me,’” Queenie grumbled, which made both Sol and Kingsley shake their heads. “Queen Me” was a good song, but it was more of a filler ballad on their record than a headliner piece.

Cole bit his lip. There was one song that he particularly enjoyed, but he wasn’t sure if the others agreed with him. Still, if he didn’t ask, no one would know what he was thinking. Cole took a deep breath and plucked up his courage.

“‘Willow Tree,’” Cole forced out, his voice breathy with nerves. Misty’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and Kingsley sank back into his seat in contemplation.

Sol shook his head though. “It’s too rock for a music video. Lots of bass and drums.”

“There’s plenty of guitar lines in that song for you,” Queenie laughed. “I like it.”

“It’ll show our range. One ballad with ‘Love’s Devastation’ and one rocker hit with ‘Willow Tree.’ It works for me,” Kingsley agreed with a nod.

“Then it’s set,” Misty said with a smile at Cole.