Mason (Rockers’ Legacy #10)

Chapter 1

Sutton

Cello in hand, I stood in the curtained wings, waiting for my turn to take the stage. One more performer was still ahead of me, and they were taking their place while the lights remained low.

A spotlight illuminated the beautiful dancer dramatically at the same time the music began.

For a multitude of reasons, my stomach dropped.

Maya looked ethereal in her shimmering, long-sleeved white leotard with a pale pink skirt.

Her body moved seamlessly to the music, her facial expression angelic as she enthralled the audience with her graceful talent.

To the song that I was supposed to play the moment she stepped off the stage.

She was fucking dancing to my song. The one I’d been practicing for weeks on end until my fingers bled in order to fine-tune my rocker-edge spin to Bach.

When I’d registered to participate in the school talent show, an event that promised a ten-thousand-dollar grand prize, I had to get approval from the headmaster, as did every other participant.

It was a rule designed to keep each performer more authentic, avoiding controversy.

On the event’s program that had been handed out to each guest in attendance, as well as the judges, Maya was supposed to be dancing to Tchaikovsky.

My hands began to sweat while I continued to watch, my heart in my throat as I fought to keep my growing panic and rage from swirling into a tornado of emotions.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Maya hated me, and the feelings were entirely mutual.

We’d been butting heads since the very first day of freshman year.

She was queen bee, with her perfect family and their limitless fortune, while I was nothing more than a scholarship kid.

A “scholarship” that Maya’s father paid for, from his own personal account.

Because he was also my dad.

Not that many people knew that. Except for Maya and maybe the headmaster. Lord knew my darling half sister wouldn’t want that little secret to get out.

Frustrated tears stung my eyes, and I tried my hardest to hold them back. But as she moved so fluidly across the stage, for a flicker of a moment, her gaze landed on me, and her serene expression morphed into something ugly and mean.

She didn’t even need the grand prize money. Wade Myers provided his beloved legitimate daughter a black AmEx card and anything else she even blinked twice at. Ten grand was pocket change to Maya and her family.

I was desperate for that money, though. Other than funding my education—and begrudgingly providing health insurance—Wade didn’t have an active role in my life. There had been no child support, no gifts for birthdays or Christmases, no showing up for any major events.

No condolences when my mom was diagnosed with cancer three months ago or when she moved to a hospice house two months later. He wasn’t there beside me when I said my last goodbye to her.

The only bright side was that I was already eighteen, with mere weeks to go before graduation.

Which meant not having to go into state care, like a foster home.

Living with my father for that short period wasn’t an option.

At least, not one I was willing to entertain, and I had serious doubts Wade would have ever allowed me over the front step if it had come down to it.

If it had come down to it, I suspected Mom would have held on with both hands until I was of age so I wasn’t subjected to the Myers’s toxicity.

Mom and Wade hadn’t parted amicably. It wasn’t some wild love affair, but Mom had thought they were at least exclusive during their relationship.

Then she’d found out she was pregnant with me.

When she told him, he told her to get rid of it—me.

And she told him to fuck off. Three months later, he married Maya’s mom, his alleged childhood sweetheart.

The truth was that his mother had planned his entire future, down to the girl he would marry.

Seven months after the wedding, Maya was born.

Meaning I was older by a mere six weeks, give or take.

Mom didn’t fight him on the child support—she could take care of both of us all on her own.

But she did want me to have a fair chance, which meant a good education.

As long as he paid my tuition, and threw in healthcare, she would keep him out of court.

In my opinion, we were better off without having that asshole in our lives. All I’d ever needed was Mom.

And now, she was gone.

Pain sliced through me, the loss hitting me like a sucker punch once more.

Every time I thought I was getting better, that I was starting to heal from the overwhelming grief, it crashed into me all over again.

Once Mom’s life insurance covered the cost of her burial and then a few of her medical bills, I was left with enough money to pay rent for a single month and stock my pantry with the bare necessities.

Winning ten thousand dollars would give me some room to breathe without having to worry about suddenly being homeless. Once I graduated in a week, I could begin working more hours at the restaurant I’d been waitressing at since I was sixteen. Maybe find a second job to pay for college.

But that was all dependent on my winning this talent competition. Otherwise, I was going to lose the apartment where I’d lived since I was seven.

And Maya had just made it harder for me to win.

The rules were clear. No matter what the talent, no one could use the same music in their performance as anyone else competing.

I’d been scheduled last since I’d been the last person to sign up.

Maya had sabotaged me perfectly, knowing it would result in my immediate disqualification.

Swallowing the lump in my throat with a hard gulp, I had to think quickly.

No one was fussing about the change-up to Maya’s music, despite what was printed on the programs. I knew it said she was dancing to Tchaikovsky, and the crowd did as well.

Yet everyone was too engrossed in her performance to care.

But if I stepped onto that stage and started playing the same exact song, whether I’d imbued it with my own edgier rocker spin, there would be anarchy. Tearing my gaze away from my callous sister, I peeked out at the crowd.

With the lights lowered, it was difficult to make out more than a few people in the front row. My school’s auditorium was big enough to seat a thousand people. It also had two private boxes where the judges would be sitting with members of the school board, the headmaster, and several sponsors.

Wade Myers would be up there with his wife, Janise.

When I first arrived, I’d caught sight of the couple speaking to the headmaster.

Wade was in a tux, while my stepmother was in a designer evening gown with enough diamonds around her neck to give her permanent back pain.

Like her, those diamonds were loud, pretentious.

Movement in the first row caught my attention. A woman with blond hair pulled back in a chic ponytail was taking the only empty seat in the middle of the row. I’d seen that same empty seat on and off all evening, and I’d felt a sharp stab to my heart each time.

Mom would have been in that seat. She would have stood outside the auditorium’s double doors until they opened for the event, just so she could claim the best seat. Dead center in the front row, so I could see her.

I missed her so damn much.

The newcomer was dressed up for the night as well.

My private school focused on fine arts, and each event was treated like an evening at the freaking Met.

She had on a dark evening gown that hugged her slender frame.

Her jewelry was minimal yet exquisite. A thin platinum watch on her left wrist. A huge rock on her left ring finger, and a simple teardrop-style necklace around her neck.

Simple and beautiful in a way that didn’t demand attention, yet anyone around her was helpless not to notice. Elegant.

As the music ended and the spotlight faded, casting the stage into darkness once again, I kept my focus on the beautiful woman in the front row.

The lights were too dim for me to make out much of her features.

For the strangest reason, focusing on her calmed me.

It brought me the kind of solace I’d only ever known when my mom smiled at me.

Rose Russell had been an incredible woman, a freaking angel. She worked three jobs to provide for me, and she still made it to every school event and recital. Every happy memory I possessed was centered around my mom, and now, she was gone. I would never get another happy moment with her.

Maya made her exit from the opposite side of the stage to deafening applause, while one of the crew rushed to set up my chair.

Sucking in a few deep breaths, I blew the last one out fully and lifted my head. Maya had stolen my song, but that didn’t mean she’d ruined my performance. If she wanted Bach so much, she could have him. I would give the audience and the judges a performance they would never forget.