Chapter 2
TWO
KASH
The motel room shut behind me as the hot summer sun warmed my back.
I was lost in thought, still reeling over the idea that someone might know my truth.
That some fucking random person just might be stalking me and the rest of the band.
And I can’t fucking have that. To most people, this band may seem like a collection of misfits thrown together to perform, but we were so much more than that.
We were a family. And I would do anything to protect my family.
My mind continued to spin and tangle over endless questions and anxious concerns as I walked down the outdoor balcony of the shitty highway motel. My hands grazed through my long black hair, and I watched my feet, as if being in some pointless trance would help me solve this insane puzzle.
Even if this person did know…how? How would they have known? Motley and I had never been together in a public place. Well, such an obvious and public place. We’ve always been so careful so ? —
“I said, leave me the fuck alone!” My head shot up at the sound of Motley's disgruntled voice.
It was unusual to hear such a tone coming from him.
Motley was standing at the end of the outdoor hallway with a bucket of ice tucked firmly within his toned arm.
He looked pissed, and as I looked past him, I could see why.
“Back the fuck off, man!” Motley politely shoved the gangly man back, nearly knocking him over.
Fucking Guy.
Guy was this obsessive, lone paparazzo wannabe that borderline stalked our band.
He spent months shadowing Carmen, snapping photos of her and her son out in the world.
Over time, he started photographing Carmen as she changed and in other compromising positions.
He blackmailed her into paying him to keep the photos to himself and not release them to the public, threatening to expose her and have her kid taken away if she didn’t pay.
What a fucking prick. He nearly drained her dry too, and would’ve kept doing so if Ducky hadn’t been with her once when he showed up.
I gotta say, for an old man, Ducky can throw a punch.
He knocked Guy on his ass that day and threatened to do a lot worse if he didn’t return all the footage of Carmen and her son and pay back every cent he took.
Though who knows how many copies he kept of everything.
Guy eventually paid Carmen back, but Ducky’s threats sadly only kept him at bay for so long. Eventually, he always came back, trying to find something he could use to blackmail the band. I never knew what his deal was, but now it seemed Guy had a new target in mind: Motley.
Guy steadied his footing and tried to follow Motley, who had now noticed me.
The curly head, pale dude adjusted his clunky glasses with his camera in hand, and snapped a photo of Motley from behind.
Motley growled and gripped the bucket of ice as his arm bulged.
“I said—” He turned to face Guy. “Back off!” Before he could even blink, Guy had snapped a second photo, nearly blinding Motley.
He groaned and dropped the bucket of ice, grabbing at his eyes. “Fuck!” It was enough to set me off.
I immediately picked up my pace and ran to Motley.
I gripped his arm, making sure he was okay as Guy continued to snap photos, that fucking flash blinding us both.
“Knock it off!” I swung my arm, grabbing the camera from his hands.
It was strapped around his tiny neck, nearly choking him as I pulled it close.
“What the fuck is your problem, Guy?” I yanked him closer.
“Is your life so fucking pointless that you gotta keep harassing us? Huh?” I shook the camera.
Guy was obviously frightened, considering I had the physical upper hand between us, but he was also oddly…
entertained? That unsettling look in his dead eyes made me nervous.
Guy grinned, snickering to himself as Motley and I exchanged the most confounded look. “What the fuck is so funny?” Motley asked.
Guy peeled my fingers from his camera and inspected it closely as he spoke.
“You act like none of you have something to hide, but truthfully, there are skeletons in everyone’s closet.
” His glasses reflected the sunlight, and he looked up at me.
It was eerie as hell. “My obsession with The Broken Muse is the irony of the name of the band itself. Think about it. A muse can be many things…a statue, a delicate piece of art, or even a normal person. But something a muse is, regardless of what it consists of, is divine inspiration. Now, to be a broken muse, you must be…well…troubled. Haunted by your own shadows within.” Guy looked at Motley, then me.
“Your band creates music that people all across the country adore. Music in itself is an art, is it not? But what inspires such a creation? What drives the members of your band with such raw passion to create this art? Well.” He adjusted his glasses once more. “For Carmen, it’s her son.”
Motley brushed past me, and I grabbed his arm. “Don’t you fucking talk about her son.”
Guy raised his hands in a defensive way and smiled so smugly. “Apologies, but am I wrong?” Motley looked over at me.
What the fuck is wrong with this guy?
“Anywho.” Guy adjusted his camera strap.
“We know who sweet Carmen’s little muse is.
But what about you, Motley?” He stepped closer to Motley.
“What—or rather, who—is your muse, little drummer boy?” A shadow cast over his pale, scrawny face.
“Are they broken too?” Motley’s face revealed his emotions like a painting.
I knew Guy’s words hit their mark, and I had enough of his psychotic rambling.
My hand gripped Guy’s collar, and I yanked him away from Motley.
“Listen here,” I growled. Guy remained unfazed, merely laughing at my temper.
It only angered me more. “You need to leave us the fuck alone! I don’t know what sick little games you think you can play with us, but knock it off!
” Motley tried to get me to stop, but I brushed him off me.
“Do you hear me?” I shook the man. “Leave us all alone!”
Guy snickered. “Or what? You gonna make me, Kash? Assault is a crime, you know. How would the little drummer boy over here feel if you or him were caught beating up a defenseless man half your size?” His head rolled, and he looked at Motley.
“Would hate to see him back in an orange jumpsuit. Wouldn’t you? ”
Why you little ? —
Everything blurred red, and I lost myself.
I grabbed his camera and ripped the strap as I forcefully tore it from Guy’s neck.
He gagged and coughed, watching while I held the camera high, taunting him.
“No, please! Not the camera!” His begging was a fresh change of emotion as I saw the fear flicker in those dead eyes behind his glasses. “Not my camera! Not my camera!”
Finally .
My own mouth curled into a devious smile. Motley tried to stop me, but I simply ignored him. “It’s all fun and games until someone finally bites back. Isn’t that right, Guy?”
Guy tried to wriggle free from my grasp, but it was useless. “I’ll leave you alone… I swear! Please, just give it back! I need that camera!”
“Oh?” I flicked a brow. “What’s so special about this old thing, anyways?
Got more photos you plan to use to blackmail us?
Or maybe there’s someone else you’re stalking too?
I mean, let’s be real, a guy can’t make a living off a handful of band members.
” I pulled him closer, nearly slamming my face into his. “Who else are you stalking?”
Guy swallowed hard. “N-no one. I swear! Just give it back!” He tried to lunge towards the camera, but I pulled it back just in time.
“No one else, huh?” I leaned back, eyeing the camera.
“So you really are just sickly obsessed with us.” Interesting.
“You asked who our muse was…who inspired us to sing and perform?” I glared at Guy.
“The Broken Muse is my muse, Guy. They’re my closest friends, my inspiration, and my family.
And no one fucks with my family.” I threw the camera down against the concrete floor with all my strength.
Guy shouted, his eyes burning with tears as he watched me crush the remnants with my boot, stomping them against the concrete.
I then raised him onto the tips of his toes and whispered into his ear while he sobbed.
“If I ever see your ugly face creeping around me or any of my band members or team, I’ll do something far more damaging to your weak ass.
” I leaned back and licked his cheek as he groaned and tried to break free.
“Now, crawl back to whatever dark hole you slithered from.” I dropped Guy from my grasp, and he fell to the concrete floor.
Motley tried to lean down to help pick up the broken camera pieces, but I stopped him. “Kash,” he grumbled.
“No.” We looked at one another, then glanced down at Guy.
He scrambled to gather the broken pieces, attempting to piece them together like a puzzle.
His glasses were now fogged from his tears, little drops hitting the concrete as he sobbed quietly to himself.
“This is his mess.” Guy glanced up through his glasses and glared at me.
I moved my hand and mimicked taking a photo, making the sound as I pretended to capture the moment.
It might have been a bit sadistic but I smiled. “Let’s go.”
Motley readjusted his grip on the nearly empty ice bucket and led the way.
I followed him back to his motel room, ensuring Guy didn’t stalk either of us.
Motley’s room was on the whole other side of the same floor, as far away from my room as humanly possible.
I wasn’t sure if that was intentional or not.
I remained close, breaking the awkward silence. “Ugh, I am just so tired of that little prick trying to pocket off us! I just don’t?—”