Chapter 20
Mal
The worst day of my life was finally here.
And that was saying a lot, given my history.
I’d been arrested six times. Overdosed in Thailand. Fell off the stage in Minneapolis and broke my leg in two places.
All that paled in comparison to the shitshow today was going to be.
We opted for a graveside service early in the morning for Gio, hoping to put off the media by scheduling it quickly and quietly.
I still hadn’t been able to get ahold of Gio’s girl, Amaya. Ryker and Beau were trying too. I hadn’t heard from Leif since that first night at my place. Ryker was in charge getting the service details to the asshole. I didn’t want to talk to him.
It felt like my entire life was fracturing, and I didn’t know what or who to hold onto.
I was pulling away from Saylor. This wasn’t the life I’d promised her.
But then maybe I’d sold myself on the same fairytale—that my band breaking up wouldn’t also break my heart.
I sighed, staring sightlessly out the window of our hired car.
Given the many ways this could all fall to pieces, I didn’t want to trust the lives of my loved ones to my driving skills.
I’d no doubt be arrested for manslaughter because I wouldn’t even slow down if one of those asshole paps jumped in front of the car to get a good picture.
Fuck ‘em all.
The strained silence in the cab of the car was broken only by the lilting tones of whatever elevator music the driver had put on. It was starting to feel like a special kind of torture. Seriously, who played easy listening when they were driving a fucking rock god around town?
“Hey!” I called as I leaned forward. “Could you at least put some decent music on?”
“Uh, sure thing. I mean, yes sir.” A few seconds later the Tin Gods anthem ‘Nowhere to Hide’ blared over the speakers mid-song.
I sat back with a dry chuckle. If that wasn’t an apt theme song to the day, I didn’t know a better one.
“Mal, have you noticed the dress Saylor is wearing? She put it together herself in just three days.”
I jolted at my mom’s pointed question. “Uh, yeah. You look nice, Saylor.”
Saylor sighed, no doubt annoyed I hadn’t even bothered to look her way.
Naomi’s snort underlined the point.
I glared at Naomi. I hadn’t needed to look at Saylor again.
The visual of her in that black A-line dress with long sleeves and a collar like a man’s button-up shirt but open to perfectly frame her lickable cleavage was imprinted on my brain.
She looked gorgeous, which was fucked considering the occasion—not that I was blaming her.
I just didn’t want to rock up to the graveyard with a huge boner tenting the front of my pants.
And Naomi had promised if I let her come to the service, she’d behave.
This definitely wasn’t her behaving.
I said as much with the look I gave her.
She blinked innocently back at me.
Sighing, I turned to my wife. “You look gorgeous, Saylor. I think it’s fucking amazing that you made your dress so quickly. Do you need anything else in your workroom? Equipment or something you don’t have right now?”
The words sounded stilted coming out of my mouth, but I blamed that on our audience and not that I hadn’t spent any time with her lately.
She shook her head mutely and stared straight ahead like she was wishing she was anywhere else than here.
Same, baby girl. Same.
The car slowed to pull into a parking lot, and my stomach churned.
We were here.
In less than a heartbeat, we were surrounded. Shouted questions, camera flashes, and clicks rocked the stillness of our car, and I went from sad to pissed off in a heartbeat.
“What the fuck! Who tipped those assholes off?” I bit out.
We’d made everyone sign NDAs, from the groundskeeper to our drivers.
Fuck.
“Um, where do you want me to let you out, Mister Holt?” Our driver asked.
I groaned. “Pull around, so I’ll be the first one out. They can’t come on the property, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be assholes.” Turning to the others in the car, I said, “If any of you would rather stay in the car, I totally understand.”
“I need to say goodbye to Gio,” Mom said tremulously.
Naomi shook her head. “I’m used to it. And I want to say goodbye too.”
I nodded and turned to Saylor.
She gave me a wobbly smile. “My place is next to you. I’m going wherever you’re going.”
I grinned back at her and for a second, I felt lighter.
Then I flinched as someone’s hand slapped our window as the driver tried to pull through the crowd.
Naomi sighed and fussed with her bag.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spied the encouraging smile Saylor sent my way, and I reached over to hold her hand. For the first time that day, I felt slightly grounded. Like maybe I could actually get through this shitshow in one piece as long as I had Saylor by my side.
She squeezed my hand, and I grinned as I squeezed it back.
Then the driver opened the door, and the worst day of my life truly began.
The buzzing of several drones overhead hummed annoyingly and competed with the constant click of the paps’ cameras audible across the street.
I sighed and dropped Saylor’s hand before stepping out into the mayhem.
I pulled my mom out of the limo and blocked the paps with my body as best as I could before helping Naomi out and then passing their hands to the driver to escort inside.
Then I reached into the car and helped Saylor out, and a few shouted questions competed with the clicking cameras.
“Saylor, over here!”
“Saylor, how’s life as a newlywed?”
“Saylor, is it true that your ex beat you?”
It was that last question that made Saylor trip. She would’ve gone down but for my hand holding her up.
I moved from holding her hand to wrapping my arm around her shoulder before leading her away from the bedlam across the street and overhead as we walked to the front gate.
I nodded at our driver on his way back to the car and stood with most of our band on the other side of the gate, safe from the cameras across the street, but not from the ones overhead.
“Next guy who dies gets buried in a private plot. Fuck LA County,” our manager, Danny, muttered as he scowled at the drone hovering above us.
“Fuck that,” Leif snarked. “Next guy gets cremated and spread over the Pacific Ocean or some poetic shit.”
“Pretty sure that’s not up to you assholes, unless you haven’t filed a will?” I asked with raised brows.
Both of them nodded their heads.
“Where’s Beau?” I asked with a frown.
“Probably waiting for Phoebe to put on her face.” Leif sighed.
“I had to spell out to Beau that no, she couldn’t livestream the service.” Ryker rocked back on his heels with his hands stuffed in his front pockets. “Private means no cameras.”
“Fat lot of good that did,” Leif muttered, glaring at the persistent drone. “These fuckers just don’t quit.”
“Should be a crime,” my mom murmured with a frown. “Everyone deserves a peaceful, final resting place.”
“Sorry, Judy, didn’t see you there.” Ryker stepped up to give my mom a huge hug, and despite his skinnier frame he picked her up and twirled her around.
“Ryker, you lunatic! Put me down. This shit isn’t dignified.” My mom squealed.
Ryker chuckled as he set her down. “We don’t do dignified here.”
“Maybe given the circumstances, you should try it,” Leif said before cutting in and giving my mom a tamer hug. “Judy. Good to see you again. Thanks for coming.”
“Always,” my mom murmured back. “You all are my boys, you know that.”
Danny stepped up and hugged my mom as they murmured something to each other I couldn’t hear over the drone’s buzzing.
Both guys nodded at Naomi but didn’t approach her.
Ryker stepped forward and gave Saylor a more reserved and respectful side hug. “Hey Saylor.”
She smiled awkwardly back at him.
Leif didn’t even bother with that much of a greeting. He tipped his head at Saylor then stepped back to complete our half circle.
I tried not to let his aloofness bother me. But I could tell it made Saylor feel even more awkward. She shifted next to me and clutched my arm in a tighter grip than before.
Danny stepped up and offered his hand to Saylor with a grin. “Is this the infamous wife?”
“Saylor, this is our manager, Danny Conlan,” I said with a barely concealed eyeroll. “Danny, this is the infamous wife, Saylor Holt.”
Saylor shook his hand with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“Christ, did you rob a high school, Mal?” Danny laughed. “She looks the same age as my daughter, Bette.”
“Not funny, fucker. Only way Saylor has been in a school recently was to teach. Try to treat my woman with some respect.”
Since Bette just finished eighth grade, it was a disgusting comparison.
“Oh, you teach?” Danny asked innocently like he hadn’t just insulted me and her.
Saylor lifted a shoulder. “Not anymore.”
“Ah, right.” Danny nodded sagely. “You married this lug so…”
His implication hung in the air between us.
Fucker.
I put a hand on Danny’s chest and shoved him away from my wife. “Back the fuck off. Saylor is going to go into fashion. She made the fucking amazing dress she’s wearing. She’s got talent and she wants to do something with it. Sound familiar?”
“Hey, hey, I’m sorry okay?” Danny lifted his palms in placation.
“I heard about your quickie wedding and made a few assumptions. Clearly the wrong assumptions. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to get talked into marriage without a prenup and vetting your bride-to-be.
I just heard all those reports about her runaway bride thing and assumed… I’m sorry, Saylor.”
She bit her lip and shrugged. But the fact that she didn’t immediately accept his half-assed apology made me so fucking proud of her.
Danny nodded back and took a spot in our little circle far away from us.
We stood there and talked for another ten minutes.
Twenty minutes.
At half an hour, I begged Ryker to text them again.
“Where the fuck are they?” I grumbled.
“Maybe we should start the service without them?” Ryker offered.
“It’s gonna be like ten minutes tops,” I replied. “If we start without them, there’s a good chance we’ll finish without them too.”
Almost like I spoke it into existence, the gate opened and a disgruntled Beau stomped into the cemetery, followed by his prancing wife who was wearing the hugest hat I’d ever seen.
“Beau! Finally!” Ryker crowed. “We were getting ready to start without you.”
“Sorry, guys.” Beau pushed a hand through his long brown hair. “You know how it is with women—can’t show up until you’re fashionably late.”
“No, can’t relate.” I gave him a blank stare. “We’ve been here for thirty minutes. My mom, my wife, and my assistant had no problem getting ready on time.”
Beau winced. “Sorry guys.”
“Let’s get this show on the road,” I muttered.
Holding Saylor’s hand, we made our way down the path and toward the tent set up on the vibrantly green grass.
As we dodged the headstones, I remembered that horrible appointment when Ryker and I had to pick out his headstone and his epitaph.
After Ryker brought up our first international tour and how desperate Gio had been to see Jim Morrison’s grave in Paris despite our tight timeline, I knew there was only one thing we could put on it—only we tweaked for Gio’s Italian heritage.
It’ll read: Fedele al suo demone interiore.
True to his own demon. A fitting epitaph for the way Gio lived and died.
Only that kind of thing took time apparently. Carving stone wasn’t exactly quick.
But it wasn’t the basic placard provided by the cemetery that held my attention.
It was the gleaming casket sitting on metal rails and surrounded by fake turf to conceal the huge hole he’d be interred inside today.
Fuck.
I thought I’d confronted the reality of this moment when I had to claim his body at the coroner’s. But even though his casket was closed, I knew it was him inside there. I felt the loss more keenly now than ever before.
I would’ve gone down on my knees but for Saylor next to me.
I staggered for a second and she swooped under my arm to hold me up, bracing a hand against my chest.
And I let her.
She didn’t say a word. She just held me.
And later when we stood around Gio’s closed casket, and I wept, she continued to hold me.