Nicole E. Woolaston
Copyright ã 2016 by Nicole E. Woolaston and Woolaston Entertainment.
No part of this book may be reproduced by any means without permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Use of celebrity names is solely for the use of the story and is not intended to interfere with their celebrity, nor is it intended to promote or defame their character or name.
All Our Lady of Righteous Rage song lyrics are written by and are the property of Nicole Woolaston and Woolaston Entertainment. All other lyrics are the property of their owners and are used for entertainment purposes only.
This book was printed in the United States of America.
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Dedicated to my number one fan, my mother, June Parris
To Green Day, Gerard Way, and all my favorite rockers: thanks for the inspiration!
To my fellow self-published authors: indie authors rule. Period.
“Act your rage and not your gender.”-----Amy Edwards
The story so far….
Amy Edwards and her friends grew up together between Queens and Brooklyn, in New York. Varying in ages and ethnicities, they have one very important thing in common: music. It is the element that binds them together. While struggling to start a band, Amy and her friends also worked on running a business together, which later became known as the Urban Collective: a store which sells CD’s, t-shirts, artwork, and other creative items. The band, Our Lady of Righteous Rage, began to gain some notoriety. Playing gigs at Webster Hall and opening for famous bands, Our Lady seemed to be on its way up.
Then, the band members’ fame came into play. One by one, they found themselves dealing with a level of exposure they had never encountered before. Rob’s brother Will needed psychiatric treatment, and Aidan learned a devastating secret about his parentage. Nick suffered a personal loss of his own: the death of his father hit him much harder than he expected it to. And Amy found herself questioning her role in the band, while some candid photos had others questioning her sexuality. While the band worked to sort out their personal issues, they had no idea who was behind their sudden negative image. Erin, a friend/employee at Urban Collective, did some digging, and learned the culprit was closer than anyone could have imagined: David Sarconi, Amy’s ex and Nick’s cousin. During a performance at Webster Hall, Amy and David made eye contact, where Amy declared she and her band weren’t about to let anyone stop them from doing what they loved. Speaking directly to David, she said if he believed a few nasty articles and pictures were going to destroy her band, then David was welcomed to “bring it.”
And so, the story continues…
I was sitting on the couch inside the recording studio at Urban Collective, scanning an article in Alternative Press magazine. If anyone had asked me what the article was about, I couldn’t have told them. I wasn’t reading it; not really. There were words and pictures on the page, but all I could see was red. I’d never been so pissed off in all my life. My friends and I had been busting our asses to make a name for our band, and my idiot ex-husband was working to destroy it all! Who the hell does that?
“Did you know Kurt Cobain died on my sixteenth birthday?”
I looked up from the magazine to see Aidan, sitting across from me on a stool, scrolling through his phone. He looked up from the screen and smiled at me. “That’s pretty trippy, right?”
I shook my head and sighed. “I’m sorry, Aidan,” I said. “I completely forgot you were here. I’m still so angry about this whole thing with David.”
“I know,” Aidan said. He slid his phone into his back pocket, and clasped his hands in his lap. “So, what are we gonna do about him?”
“I don’t know yet,” I replied. “Nick said he wanted to talk to David, one on one. And Rob…well, Rob just wants to kick his ass.” I set the magazine down on the cushion next to me. “So does Jon.”
“Well, you can add my name to that list, too,” Aidan said. “Piece of shit. What was he thinking?”
I shook my head at the idea. “To think we used to be friends,” I said. “I mean, I always believed we would still have that, you know? I believed, even if we didn’t work out as a couple, we could at least hold on to our friendship. I guess I thought wrong.”
Aidan smiled at me. “David never knew what he had when he was with you,” he said. “That’s why he’s so pissed off. He lost the greatest thing that ever happened to him.”
“Aidan?” I said, feeling my eyes becoming watery. “Dude, don’t say stuff like that! You’re gonna make me cry.”
“It’s the truth!” Aidan insisted. “Losing you fucked him up.”
At that moment, Nick walked in, and plopped down beside me. “Hey,” he said, with a sigh. “What’s up?”
“The ceiling,” Aidan replied. “What’s up with you?”
Nick smirked at him. “Trying to figure out what to do about this David situation,” he said. “I could just have him killed, you know. The Lianetti name carries a lot of weight in Sicily, and all I have to do is make a phone call and pay for a plane ticket—”
“Stop,” I said. “We’re not having anyone killed. We’re going to be rational adults about this.”
“I don’t want to be a rational adult,” Aidan said, flicking his tail. “I wanna put my foot up David’s ass.”
“So do I,” I said. “But that’s not the way to handle this.”
Nick reached up and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “What we need to do, is keep doing what we’ve been doing. We need to keep making music.”
“We need to release another album,” Aidan said.
Nick nodded in agreement. “I’m going to start working on some songs. If you guys come up with anything, let me know, and we’ll work on it.” He paused for a moment, then added. “I did try to call David, but he wouldn’t answer his cell or return any of my calls. I know he got my voice mails.”
“Don’t worry about him,” I said. “Like you said, we need to focus on making music.”
It’s always the ones you least suspect, who screw you over. If a total stranger had been behind all of our problems, I could live with that. But my cousin? My own family? How am I supposed to feel about that?
When I left the studio, I went home. Nyda wasn’t in yet, so I had the place to myself. With so much idle time on my hands, I figured I could get some writing done. We needed a new album; one that would blow all of our haters out of the water. I had a lot of work ahead of me.