The Jaded Notes (The Kings Of Mayhem #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

LIVIANNA/LILY

Then

Ashes & Echoes

Grief drags, regret suffocates…and some ghosts claw their way into the seat beside you.

The pews bite into my knees before I even kneel as if the church itself wants me punished. I clutch my dad’s arm, not for balance but because if I let go, I’ll splinter.

My mom is on his other arm. We huddle together, knowing this must be a terrible day for Bren and his bandmates. Most notably, Callum.

My dad ushers us to a bench halfway up the aisle. “Let’s take these.”

“That’s fine.” I peek around, wiping tears from my eyes for Callum. “There’s a bigger crowd than I would’ve expected.”

“Why?” My mom waits for me to go in first. “John was known and loved by many in the music industry.”

I nod and keep my thoughts to myself. This isn’t about what John has done to me over the years.

This is about showing my respect to Callum and his mom. No matter what happened in the past, they love him. I want to honor that.

I didn’t go to the wake because there were no words I could trust in my mouth. But being here is important.

Once we’re seated and comfortable, I glance around to see if I can spot any of Mayhem’s crew. I don’t see anyone I recognize.

I take in everything else. The air is thick with reverence for the solemn occasion. The faint scent of incense mingles with the floral aroma. The church is decorated with white lilies throughout, and I gasp.

The altar is adorned with clusters of elegant flowers. They’re arranged delicately in vases. They gleam too insistently, like they know they’re here to pierce my heart.

And they’re everywhere. They line the aisles at the end of each pew. They form a field that circles me and reminds me of the past.

What’s the significance?

I sit back and run through the possibilities. They are Callum’s favorite, so that must be the reason. It has nothing to do with me, I decide.

A gentle hush envelops the space as bells blend seamlessly with whispered prayers. Traditional Irish music filters in, the bagpipes being of particular distinction. It comes in louder, signaling the funeral procession has begun.

I turn, and a casket is being carried in by the pallbearers—Callum, Bren, Hawke, Cooper, and two men I don’t know. They’re all in black suits and white shirts with the top buttons undone. None of them are wearing a tie.

Mayhem dressed as saints without the halos. The miracle is that they left the leather at home.

The guys place the casket in front of the altar, keeping their heads down in a show of respect. They file into a row and sit.

Callum doesn’t. He strides down the aisle to the back of the church and ushers his mom in. They hang their heads as they make their way to the front pew.

Victoria cries and holds onto Callum. She folds into her son and comes apart in quiet pieces. My soul shatters for the man holding her up like he isn’t breaking. As eulogies and prayers are delivered, she shatters more.

My heart squeezes for her. She’s suffered so much loss. Tears sting my eyes, and my throat burns just acknowledging that her life has been hard.

It’s not just her I’m hurting for. I can’t deny the pain I feel for Callum.

It only gets worse when he stands before the crowd of mourners. How is he able to speak in front of people when he’s got to be a mess?

He’s a rockstar, Livianna. He’s used to performing.

He stands behind a podium, clears his throat, and peers out. He scans the pews and stops when our gazes connect.

“My uncle John helped my ma raise me since I lost my pops. I never made it easy, but he stepped up every time I needed him to. Some men carry wounded soldiers, and my uncle carried me until I could stand.”

His eyes stay hooked on mine as if he’s speaking to me. “I’m not saying he was perfect. What I’m saying is he was there for me during my darkest days. For that, I’m honored and grateful he was part of my family.”

I nod, the cry getting stuck halfway up my throat.

Callum continues. “As much as I love my uncle, there have been times I butted heads with him. Looking back, I realize I’m not much different from what he was.

We’re haunted by the same demon, one that can’t be shaken off.

It’s the kind that doesn’t let go when you tell it to.

Because of that, most people misunderstand the truth about his life. ”

What does that mean?

Callum’s gaze cuts from his mother to me and doesn’t waver. “The rock-and-roll life eats men alive. It breaks even the best ones, and my uncle was no exception. But he was still there when I needed someone who wouldn’t walk away.”

Callum takes a long, deep breath. “Uncle John always tried to help make my dreams come true. He may not have known how to right his wrongs, but I promise he never stopped trying to make amends. He hurt people, and he knew he did, but he kept trying to be better. I believe he meant it.”

Why do I feel like what Callum is saying is meant for me specifically?

He pauses to center himself. “I hope my uncle did more good. I hope you can remember these things about him. He deserves forgiveness and acknowledgment for all he’s given to those who were in his life so his soul can rest in peace. That’s all I can ask of you.”

Callum gives me a subtle dip of his chin. These words are for me. He’s asking me to forgive John. I don’t know if I can. We lost our baby because of… I lower my head, swallowing the rising scream.

I’m no better than John. Tears fall without restraint, and I scratch at my wrists.

I took Lehlani Rose from the world. If I want mercy for her, I have to pay it forward to him.

My throat locks as I force my head up. When my gaze meets Callum’s, the smile I give him feels sewn on with wire.

He continues his eulogy, focusing on John’s contribution to the music industry as I let go of my anger and disdain for him. Callum’s right. Everyone deserves to rest in peace.

I’m thinking about that when Callum finishes. What he says takes me by surprise because it doesn’t make sense.

He stares at his mom. “They say Uncle John overdosed. I’m not sure what I believe. I know it wasn’t by his own hand, though. He never would’ve done that to us. Have you ever thought about that?”

There’s a long pause. Callum and his mom hold a weighted stare while the crowd looks on. John’s passing was ruled an overdose. Bren told me it looked like a suicide, but they couldn’t prove it, so it was listed as an accidental death.

What is Callum talking about?

He thumps his chest with his fist. “I’d like to end with an Irish blessing.

‘May the road rise to meet you, may the wind always be at your back, may the sun shine warm upon your face, and may the rains fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, may God hold you in the hollow of His hand.’ I love ya, Uncle John. ”

Callum stares up at the sky and honors his uncle with a moment of silence. He leaves the podium with glossy red eyes. It’s clear he’s holding back tears.

My heart shatters for him. First his dad, now his uncle. I pray he can handle this without going off the deep end.

From what I’ve heard, it’s not likely. Callum’s been hanging by a thread since this happened.

Once the funeral is over, we head to an Irish pub to pay our respects. It goes from church hush to bar roar in under an hour. Bagpipes traded for bass lines and grief poured over ice. John’s reception wants laughter to drown what the hymns couldn’t.

My parents grab a table and tell me to find Bren. I squeeze between people and scan the crowd. Another room opens up off to the side.

I slip through shoulders until I reach the opening, which is about the size of a sliding glass door. The area has four large tables that frame a fireplace.

Some of the stage crew, including all the members of Mayhem and Victoria, are here. I take one look at them and my insides twist. I should turn around and not interrupt.

Bren spots me first and gets to his feet. “Livianna. Come in.”

“Of course.” In preparation, I give myself an encouraging mental pat on the back and stroll to their table.

Bren takes me in his arms. “I’m glad you were able to come back.”

“I figured you could use a hug.”

“Thanks. John meant a lot to all of us.” Bren leans closer to my ear so only I can hear. “Try to see past his mistakes for one day. If not for Cash, do it for me. I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, Bren.” I release him. “Mom and Dad have a table in the other room. Should I get them?”

Anything to give me an excuse to leave. The somber mood isn’t very welcoming and I don’t expect it to be.

Bren glances at the table. “There’s not enough space for them to join us in here. I’ll go out and talk to them for a while. You can take my seat.”

Fantastic. Just what I want to do. Sit with Callum, the guy I’ve been refusing to speak to since I saw him the day I left for Paris.

I show Bren a tight smile. It’s all muscle memory.

Inside, I’m falling apart. “That’s very kind of you.”

I gaze over at Callum. His eyes are glued to me as he drinks a beer and listens to his bandmates talk.

I peek over at Victoria. She’s being consoled by one of the male sound engineers Mayhem works with.

My guess is he’s trying to be there for her in more than one way. She won’t fall for it. She’s too aware of that type of behavior.

Bren leaves the room, and I take tiny steps toward Callum with my stomach spinning. I don’t know how to approach him.

This isn’t like any typical day where we just happen to be in the same place. This is where he’s mourning another loss he’s had to face.

As I approach, Hawke and Cooper acknowledge me with a chin dip and a one-finger wave. At least they don’t seem to hate me. They don’t even tense, which is a good sign. They know I’d never start a fight with Callum today.

I reach his side. “The funeral was beautifully done. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Do you mean that?” He rises to his feet until we’re face to face. “You didn’t like him when he was alive.”