Facing the Music (Rock Gods #11)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Bronx’s cell phone was ringing when he stepped out of the shower.

He grabbed a clean towel from where it was draped over a warming rack and dried off while he reached for his phone.

He’d left it waiting for him on a countertop made of a solid slab of black granite with gold flecks.

Knowing the owners’ so-called style, it no doubt came from an old quarry in Italy and then specially shipped to Los Angeles for installation.

Every single design detail in this leased house was garish and overdone, right down to the dual sinks in the primary bathroom with gaudy gold faucets that looked right out of the Baroque period.

It almost seemed as though their designer couldn’t decide on which time period to go with and the owner ended up with a mish-mash of styles and historical periods that didn’t tie into any particular kind of uniformity.

Suffice to say, this wasn’t Bronx’s taste in decor at all.

The selling—or leasing point with this place was the enormous space above the garage he quickly turned into a recording studio.

But walking through the house only served to remind him he was leasing someone else’s home which meant any major remodeling was out of the question and he wasn’t remotely interested in pulling the trigger on owning the house.

His real estate agent at the time of leasing confirmed the owners would be willing to sell the house to him but Bronx didn’t like the place nearly enough to get serious about it.

Besides, he wasn’t sure where he’d end up and buying a house meant laying down roots in one particular area.

He was clueless to where he wanted to live long-term, whether it be on the ocean or in the hills above Los Angeles.

In the end he chose to live close to his band members’ estates which made a quick commute when he wanted to spend time or work with them.

Over the few years he’d been playing with Black Ice, he’d managed to make this his home.

He’d done his best to surround himself with the things he loved the most, items like an old, faded L-shaped leather couch and accessory pieces such as the leather chaise and a wide recliner big enough for two.

This living room set was his first major purchase back when he was signed to work with his first headlining band.

Since then he’d dragged it around to every house and condominium he’s ever called home.

Bronx ran the towel quickly over his wet skin and then tied it around his waist as he glanced at the front screen of his cell. The incoming call was from Dante and that had Bronx answering it before the call went to voicemail.

“What’s up?” Bronx asked as he did his best to avoid getting water all over his phone.

“Dagger and Ryan’s baby is coming,” Dante announced. “He wants us all at the hospital.”

“No shit? Well, I’ll be damned,” Bronx chuckled. “I knew the due date was coming up, but I thought it was at the end of the month.”

“Yep, their surrogate went into labor a couple of hours ago,” Dante said. “Ashton and I are headed over to the hospital now.”

“I’ll get dressed and meet you there in an hour or so,” Bronx confirmed.

“An hour or so?” Dante scoffed. “Did I wake up the princess?”

“I was in the shower when you called,” Bronx argued. “And believe me, I’ve been up for a while. Already pounded out an hour of cardio in my gym and had breakfast. I’m willing to bet the only thing you’ve pounded this morning is Ashton’s ass.” Bronx chuckled.

“You’d be right about Ashton,” Dante said and Bronx could almost hear the smile in the man’s voice. “It’s my favorite way to begin a new day. You should try it sometime—not on Ashton! He’s all mine. I’m speaking in general terms.”

“Don’t worry about me getting laid,” Bronx said. “I’ve adjusted to being celibate.”

“That’s sad, man, but whatever,” Dante said, “I think you’ve forgotten how to have fun. Maybe after the buzz from the prince of rock’s birth fades a bit we can go out and I’ll introduce you to fun again.”

“Wonderful. I can’t wait,” Bronx replied in a flat tone. “It’s always a delight to add another arrest to my already too long rap sheet.”

“I knew you’d like that idea,” Dante said. “Oh, and make sure you bring a guard with you to the hospital. Someone tipped off the press about the baby and the place is already crawling with paps.”

“Rex is here standing in for the other loser who’s been away,” Bronx said. “I tell you, it’s been bliss around my house without his smothering presence.”

“Bullshit,” Dante coughed through the phone and then laughed. “However you need to justify it, dude.”

“Fuck off. You know the deal,” Bronx argued.

“No, I don’t,” Dante tossed back at Bronx. “None of us knows the deal because you’ve never explained this illogical hate you harbor for Cavalari. Either spill the details or shut the fuck up about him. It amazes me how much talking you do about a man you supposedly can’t stand.”

“I don’t remember you explaining to me why you and Ashton are always trashing random bathrooms,” Bronx argued, “and I am not constantly talking about Fish Bait.”

“Our bathroom antics aren’t a big secret,” Dante said, “I’d describe the sex we have in there as our special .

. . kink. It’s the thrill of possibly getting caught, or being seen fucking, and also doing something we know we shouldn’t be doing in someone else’s space.

I get hard just thinking about bending Ashton over a sink in one of my band brother’s bathrooms—and we don’t always do damage.

Sometimes things get out of hand but have you ever known us not to pay for the shit that gets broken? Never. We take care of what we wreck.”

“You are seriously fucked up,” Bronx said and then chuckled.

“Takes one to know one,” Dante fired back. “Hmm, I just realized something. I don’t believe we’ve screwed at your house yet. I’ll have to put that on our list of future fuck locations.”

“Hearing that makes me grateful my house is leased,” Bronx scoffed. “Even still, I’ll beat both your asses if I so much as hear either or your zippers drop at my house.”

“You just worry about the BS coiling up between you and your boyfriend ,” Dante humored.

“My dick shrivels at the thought of being anywhere near that bastard,” Bronx scoffed.

“You keep trying to convince yourself of that,” Dante said, “and I’ll see you at the hospital.”

Their call ended and Bronx was beyond infuriated by what Dante was implying.

Frankly, he was tired of everyone assuming there was anything but sheer distaste vibrating between him and his bodyguard.

He needed to fix that situation but not now.

Dagger and Ryan had a baby coming and Bronx didn’t want to miss it.

He hung his damp towel on the heating rack in the one corner of the tiled room and hurried to get dressed.

A fast finger-comb of his hair and he was running down the stairs barefoot to let Rex, his stand-in bodyguard, know he needed a shadow to take him to the hospital.

He was excited about this baby finally arriving, only because he knew how hard Dagger and Ryan had worked to make it happen.

They were overjoyed to be adding to their family and knowing that lightened Bronx’s mood.

He made it as far as the kitchen and came to an abrupt halt, his good mood immediately sinking into the toilet bowl of life at the sight of him .

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Bronx asked Cavalari as he walked through his massive, restaurant-grade kitchen.

Anthony Cavalari had been a thorn in Bronx’s side for a long damn time—long before anyone in his band was even aware.

Far as they were concerned Bronx had only recently met Cavalari.

He’d kept their complicated history locked away because, well, some things were meant just for him.

There were a lot of emotions attached to Cavalari but out of all the things he felt for the man, the anger was the easiest piece to carry around with him.

The other option was removing the lid from the metaphorical box he kept the things connected to Cavalari in and taking a closer look at the contents, but there was no way he was ever doing that.

It was far too dangerous to see anything but the rage.

Bronx gave his guard the stink-eye as he walked by him and then a side-eye so harsh that it damn near strained his vision all together.

If looks could kill Cavalari would be skewered and roasting on a spit over an open flame with an apple jammed into his mouth—or stuffed in his rectum for decoration.

“My vacation is over and I’m back on duty,” Cavalari answered.

He pushed his long, thick fingers through shiny black hair to swipe the loose strands from his eyes.

Bronx was disgusted with himself for not being able to pull his gaze away from the action but the movement of those digits was mesmerizing.

“And here I was thinking you’d either quit or finally managed to get yourself reassigned to someone else who might actually appreciate your company,” Bronx stated with sarcasm.

Seeing Cavalari standing in his kitchen threw his focus a bit and he momentarily forgot why he’d come barreling downstairs.

He pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator to collect his thoughts and began to guzzle the beverage.

“Rex was doing a fine job here, so I don’t see a reason for you to return to my house today—or ever. ”

“Tell that to Fizzbo and then repeat your suggestion to Dagger and let me know how you make out,” Cavalari said.

He sauntered across the kitchen floor to the wide French doors leading out to the back deck and pushed one of the doors open.

“I can assure you, I want to be here even less than you want me here, so stop the crybaby act. It’s fucking old, Bronx. ”