Chapter 23
As I step onto the cramped stage, the memories of colossal arenas and screaming crowds flood my mind, a stark contrast to the intimate, dimly lit dive bar we find ourselves in now. But the air is thick with the scent of nostalgia, and a faint anticipation hangs over the modest gathering of people who haven’t even turned my way.
To my left are my two boyfriends. Well, at least Haze has affirmed his position in our relationship. While sharing feelings similar to Haze, Jagger is scared to let go, and I understand his dilemma because I’m teetering on the edge, and I”m not sure if I can jump in as Haze has.
I glance at them, their familiar faces bathed in the dim glow of the stage lights, and grasp their guitars. They share a nod that silently conveys the shared journey we”re about to embark upon.
On the opposite side is Callum, and he shares a meaningful glance with me. While it’s obvious his feelings for me go beyond the friendship of bandmates, but he”s grappling with internal struggles. It’s not that he doesn’t trust me; he doesn’t trust himself.
He needs to realize that love isn’t an addiction, and it’s definitely not anything similar to something physical we put in our bodies. It”s not a craving but a potion that transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary. It”s neither the feverish search for the next high, but rather, love is a sanctuary, a haven where souls find solace and understanding.
I’ve had ten years in the desert to work out the pain inside me and what it all meant. Writing stuff down helps, and I find that I can articulate myself more effectively through music than through typical conversational words that rely on logical explanations, which most people would comprehend best.
I turn behind me and exchange a glance with Asher, acknowledging our challenge ahead. Then the thought of what Callum told me about Asher’s position as drummer on stage enters my mind. So, I do a little wiggle of my ass that I know he’ll appreciate and turn my head over my shoulder in his direction. He falls into an amused laugh.
He knows I know, and he doesn’t seem to care. He is more than happy to be free about his feelings for me. Back at the house, when we gathered the equipment for tonight, I wanted to apologize to them for running off like I did, but he jumped in and said we shouldn’t regret anything.
Asher said some of us never had a proper childhood, let alone a life as a typical teenager, and instead went straight to work, whereas most kids went to school and hung out with their parents and friends. We were too young and immature to recognize the kind of love we had; it consumed us, and when things went south, we turned on each other.
He thinks now, things will be different.
He”s always the optimist. I’m surprised by how much passion he has within himself, especially when I know that, given the chance, he’ll prefer animals over people.
My focus turns to the current task at hand. The stage may be small, the venue modest compared to what we’re used to, but it”s a new beginning, a fresh start after a decade-long hiatus.
As we kick off the performance, the initial response from the audience is lukewarm at best. The crowd seems indifferent, perhaps unfamiliar with the rebranded version of our once-famous selves. Jagger introduced us as Velocity Vortex and didn’t bring up the Sonics. We’re all glad he didn’t.
As we continue playing, the atmosphere in front of me is filled with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.
We navigate through our setlist, playing familiar tunes from the past that we never released but with an altered rhythm, one that’s been updated with harder rock. It’s just something we recently played around with for fun. But it”s not until we unleash our latest creation, Phoenix Rising, a song born from the raw passion and determination that fueled our resurgence. The unfamiliar notes resonate through the small space, and I can feel a shift in the atmosphere.
Suddenly, the crowd begins to stir. Heads nod in rhythm, and a subtle ripple of appreciation courses through the room. It”s as if the energy of the new song has breathed life into the stagnant air, rekindling the spark that once made us shine.
Once shrouded in indifference, the small bar now pulses with newfound enthusiasm. The connection between the band and the audience deepens, bridging the gap between the past and this fresh chapter.
As the final notes reverberate through the venue, the owner of the bar, a friend of Callum, approaches us.
“Hey man, that was truly awesome,” he beams and looks at all of us. “I was skeptical at first, thinking non of that pop bullshit would fly here. But you promised me a new sound, and you delivered. When can you play again?”
We exchange appreciative laughter, graciously declining. There”s a shared understanding among us that our sights are set on more prominent stages, brighter lights, and a future that holds the promise of a triumphant return to the limelight.
The man turns to me and grins. “So you’re the elusive Eden Rivers. Never quite pictured you so goddamn gorgeous. You throw every Grammy award female out of the water with those vocals. Wanna share a drink with me?”
There’s a glint in his eye, and I know he’s just teasing.
“She has her own Grammys and claimed her throne years ago,” Haze asserts, casually placing his arm around my shoulders in a possessive manner. “And for the record, the lady is taken, and right now, the only drink she’ll be sharing is with me at my home while I show her how to worship those vocals like a real geezer.”
I huff a loud laugh and slip away from his obvious claim over me.
“In your dreams, cowboy,” I mock him, taking Storm”s leash. “Thanks for the offer,” I smile appreciatively at the bar owner. “Maybe another time. I do have a penchant for silver foxes.” I say and playfully wink at the owner. One of the guys growls at my lighthearted flirting.
And on that note, I take everyone’s shocked silence as my cue to take Storm out for a well-deserved walk and toilet relief. I push open the emergency exit metal door, which leads to the back alley where the van Haze rented out for the evening is parked, and I continue to walk down the back alley towards the main street.
The narrow lane is stretched like a dark, menacing corridor between looming buildings, and dim, flickering streetlights cast faint pools of light. The distant hum of city life seems muffled, drowned out by the unsettling quietude of this secluded driveway.
It’s a warm, clear night and perfect for a short walk with Storm. Catalina had a scheduled appointment this evening, and she couldn’t take him, so the poor boy was locked up in Haze’s place all afternoon. Sure, the place is massive, enough for Storm to run around, but the marble doesn’t make it easy on his paws. So he stays mostly on his massive pillow by the tall glass doors, entertained by whatever goes on in the garden area.
“You deserve to stretch your legs, old boy,” I say. Storm looks up at me and huffs as if in agreement.
The guys hired a bodyguard to trail me whenever I needed to be somewhere without them. Rick Madden definitely has a commanding presence, his years etched into the lines of his weathered face, each crease a testament to a lifetime of experience doing this kind of job. Of course, they had to make sure he’s also a white-haired older man and not some young hottie guarding my body.
But Rick’s already made himself useful by letting Haze know how unsecure his property is, and they’re cooperating on updating everything. I can’t help but think they wouldn’t need any of this if it weren’t because of me and the baggage I carry because of some asshole stalker.
I shiver at the thought of him still being around, watching me, waiting for the opportune moment to snatch me again.
The truth is the boys don’t the half of it, and I don’t think I could ever let anyone know what really happened to me. I’ve been keeping a lot of shit to myself because now that most of them have made a claim on me, they’ll go apeshit if they find out just how close this stalker is and what he’s capable of.
Those strange phone messages have escalated to phone calls in the middle of the night. The first time I made the mistake of answering it, and all I heard was heavy breathing and skin slapping like the dickhead was masturbating or something. So now I make sure to shut my phone off at night, and during the day, I send all calls I don’t recognize straight to voicemail.
But there’s more unusual things happening. I wish I could say it’s just my mind playing tricks, but I’m not crazy.
Not yet, anyway.
I went back to that backyard fence with the spraypainted symbol that looks similar to the one on my ribs to photograph it with the intention to use it as evidence if I need to get the police involved, but the entire fence was whitewashed. I should have taken a photo at the time, but I was scared and shocked, and collecting evidence wasn’t exactly on my list of first things that came to mind.
Hiswords were clear as day; he’d kill me if I ever contacted the police.
Then Catalina said a stranger approached her one morning as she was leaving the animal physio center and offered her cash to buy Storm. She said he was persistent, pushy, and was forced to get someone from the center to walk her and Storm to the car. Perhaps the incident was unrelated, as there are a lot of freaks living in LA, but I can’t help but think if I’m putting her in danger.
The obvious choice would be to file a police report, but with what evidence?
A feeling?
Dodgy phone calls and some random guy offering to buy my dog don’t constitute that I have a stalker. The spray-painted symbol that matches the one on my body has been long eliminated.
And now, there’s no way I’m telling the guys. They already suspect something and got me a bodyguard. I hate being trailed. I know the man is only doing his job, but it feels like an invasion of privacy.
Sure, some intelligent dumbass might say, this shit comes with the territory of the life I chose to live in. But I’m not famous. Not anymore. I’m just a girl with a dog who prefers solitude to city life but loves music and performing to an audience who would appreciate the love I have for my work.
No one deserves to be terrorized, not even celebrities.
I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy the horrific shit I was forced to do.
Since the guys are with me tonight, they gave Rick the night off, they don’t see the reason for additional muscle when the four of them surround me. None of us are used to the level of security we’re forcing on ourselves now, and we aren’t even close to the notoriety of what we once were.
The guys probably think I’ve just stepped out into the alley, so none have raised any voice of concern upon seeing me lead Storm outside. Truth is, I’d like to get a breather away from them. Not because I’m fed up with them. On the contrary, I love spending time with them. But if it’s not Jagger in my bed every night, then it’s Haze. Sometimes, even the three of us. So I haven’t yet stopped to think what this is.
Now, Asher has made it apparent he wants a piece of the pie.
Fuck.
I’m the pie.
I breathe heavily out into the night air. It’s dry but a little cooler than usual. Typical for desert weather but not so much for this city.
“Eden Rivers, well, I’ll be damned,” I’m abruptly thrown out of my thoughts as two men approach me.
Storm’s ears perk up. I don’t pay them any attention and continue to walk briskly, an air of unease lingering as my footsteps echo against the cold concrete walls.
As I advanced further away from the alley, the distant footsteps of two ominous figures become audible, shattering the silence like approaching storm clouds. My heart quickens, and I instinctively pull my dog closer. Storm mirrors my apprehension with a low growl.
“So what? Too good for your old fans?” One of them says, grabbing my arm and yanking me backward.
Before I can say anything, I pull back away from him as Storm is one second from going nuclear on them. I’m more worried about his safety than my own.
”Fancy meeting you here, all alone in the dark, sweetheart. You shouldn’t be in this part of the neighborhood.”
One of the sinister figures, his face partially obscured by a greasy leather collar, speaks with a voice that oozes malevolence.
With a cruel glint in his eyes, the other man advances, blocking my path back to the bar with an unsettling grin. ”You”re a long way from safety, darling. You still fucking your bandmates? Care for having two groupies join in this love fest?”
A chilling silence envelops the alley. My eyes are drawn to the white T-shirt he’s wearing. It’s not the garment but the print that’s on it. It’s exactly the same symbol that was on that white fence. The same one inked on my skin.
What the fuck is going on?
My shock sends them the wrong message, and they step forward, causing me to step back.
”I suggest you step back. My dog and I don”t want any trouble.” I warn, fueled by a mix of fear and determination, there’s a tinge of steely resolve in my tone.
The men chuckle darkly, seemingly unfazed by my defiance.
“You think you’re some big shit, don’t you? You’re nothing but the band’s slut.”
“Yeah, and you look more like the part now. Gone is that innocent, sweet, fake look.”
Storm growls a warning, and I can feel his agitation.
“Good for you. You got me. I’m the band’s slut,” I grin sarcastically at them. “Now get the fuck out of my way because my dog is one second away from tearing your balls out.”
As much as I need to know who they are and how they came to wearing a T-shirt with a print of a tattoo that only a handful of people have seen, it’s best I get myself out of this particular situation and worry about the garment later.
The uglier one licks his lips, but they remain where they are.
“So move to the fucking side and let us pass,” I repeat, knowing I can’t move forward or back. They have me locked in, and Storm’s getting more agitated and warns them with a vicious bark.
“Go,” the one facing me moves his body sideways, letting me pass.
I’m not an idiot, and instead. I step aside so that Storm is between us, blocking any attempt the guy might make to grab me.
Abruptly, I feel the tug in my hair. With a lightning-quick motion, Storm springs into action, a blur of fur and fangs. His powerful jaws clamp down on the arm of the man who dared put his hand on me. He recoils with a howl of pain. The other man, taken aback by the unexpected ferocity, hesitates for a moment.
Storm, now fully engaged, moves with calculated precision. He circles the men, his eyes gleaming with an unwavering determination to protect me. The injured man, nursing his wounded arm, attempts to regain control of the situation, but Storm’s menacing posture and bared teeth leave little room for intimidation.
Suddenly, the back door swings open, Callum and Asher are first to exit, and they dive straight for us. Jagger and Haze follow, and both step on either side of me, protectively tugging me between them.
“What the fuck?” With a swift and decisive action, Callum immediately steps in front to shield me, putting himself between me and the threat while Asher moves to Storm’s side.
“They tried to attack me, but Storm handled it well,” I explain.
“I saw you two in the audience, by the bar, earlier,” Jagger’s voice is more than just a tone deeper and severe. His eyes are burning with rage and gleaming with a predatory sharpness that slices through the surrounding atmosphere. “Looked like two mingers looking for trouble.”
“Did any of them touch you?” Haze isn’t asking, he’s demanding a reply. The look on his face is a chilling paradox of calm and intensity.
The four men now stand protectively between me and danger, and I feel safe in the heart of a nest of monsters.
“Yes. One of them did. Not sure which one. It was so quick because Storm was on them. I’m guessing it’s the one holding his arm.”
“Good boy,” Asher praises Storm, and I grab hold of the leash and pull my dog back because whatever is about to erupt here, I don’t want him to be part of it. Some authorities are quick to put the canine down if it attacks a person, regardless of whether it is protecting its owner. I don’t want to fall into that pitfall regardless.
“You dared lay a hand on what’s ours,” Haze’s voice is as dark as this alley. The icy calm in his tone is like a controlled weapon, resonating with a quiet power that cuts through the air.
Callum flicks his lit fag at one of the men’s chests. He remains quiet, but his eyes, usually expressive, transform into a cold, calculating gaze that is devoid of emotion or empathy. His stare doesn’t leave the two men they’ve now surrounded.
There”s an aura of lethal confidence in my men’s demeanor, although strange to refer to all four as mine. They sure are claiming me right now as theirs. A self-assuredness emanates from the core of their being.
Right now, I’m theirs, and these two dickheads tried to harm me.
“It’s not how you think, man,” one of the men nervously says, realizing they’re completely outnumbered. “She left us a message to meet us back here.”
“Bullocks!” Asher yells angrily. Usually warm and expressive, his eyes now bear a steely glint, reflecting an unwavering focus of predatory sharpness.
“It’s true!” One of them insists, his eyes open wide as if he believes his pal’s bullshit.
A chuckle escapes me as I stand slightly away, knowing even if I had an ounce of remorse for what I know will happen to these two men, I wouldn’t give it to them.
What if I didn’t have Storm with me or have these four men to come out and help me?
I don’t even want to go there with that thought.
“Luv, go inside and order me a pint,” Jagger suggests. His voice, a notch softer, but unwavering in his stance facing the men.
“Look at the white T-shirt on the ugly prick. The design,” I clarify. “Before you destroy them, I need to know how and where he got it. There are only six people in this world who have seen it on me, and the four of you are part of that mini-group.”
“Fuck,” I hear one of the Brits sigh heavily, and I think it came from Jagger.
Callum grabs the man by the scruff of his neck, “He’ll be screaming like a canary, siren. Go inside; we’ll take care of it, love.”
“That’s singing. Singing like a canary, you dumb fuck,” the greasy collared one says with an evil smile on his face.
Suddenly, a swift, unanticipated fist lands on the man’s jaw, causing him to stagger backward.
“Screaming, you minging twat. I’ll have you fucking screaming when I’m done with you.”
“Eden,” the expression on Jagger”s face is a clear signal for me to enter.
I’ve never seen these four in a fight, but I know they’re not afraid of getting dirty and using their knuckles. I’ve seen the calluses on Callum’s and Asher’s knuckles. I don’t know what they’ve been up to in the last decade, but I know you don’t get such a thing from picking flowers in a field. Obviously, they partake in activities they’ve never cared to discuss with me.
I should be worried, but I’m not.
Asher seems the introvert of the group, but I’ve always known he’s possibly the most lethal because everyone expects obvious bad boy Callum to be the one they should watch out for.
Pulling on Storm’s leash, I reluctantly head towards the door and shut it once inside. All our equipment lay unattended in the hallway, so I assume Storm’s heavy barking led them outside.
I gather everything together and pile them up as they’re blocking the only fire escape.
“Where are the boys?”
I turn to find the silver fox bar owner. He’s nice-looking in a rough older man kind of way, but despite what I said earlier, I definitely am not attracted to older men. The guys know it, and that’s why I have someone like Rick trailing my ass.
“Taking care of business out back,” I won’t divulge details. The glint in his eyes suggests he knows what that entails.
“Come on then,” he tilts his head, beckoning me to follow him into the main bar area. “There’s a drink at the bar with your name on it.”
Except my mind is on what’s currently going on outside and that man’s T-shirt.
“And if I can’t entice you with the drink,” sensing my hesitation. “I’ll tell you all about how Callum Evans used to come in here and play for the crowd back in the day.”
My brow perks up. “Callum used to play here?”
He nods but stays silent, and I know I have to follow him back into the bar to learn more. Dammit, he has me now on the hook and is reeling me in.
“Come on, boy,” I say to Storm, intrigued to learn more, and we follow the older man into the bar area.