Chapter 15
15
KATRINA
I sit down at my piano, the old bench creaking slightly beneath me as I settle in the center. Setting my morning coffee down on top, I touch my fingers to the keys, letting their coldness blend with the warmth in my fingertips.
“Good morning, Freddie,” I whisper. “You miss me?”
I listen for his reply, then I play with a smile. No real songs. Just scales. Years upon years of lessons and practice flow through my stiff fingers, waking them up, the early morning Las Vegas sun bleeding in through the east-facing windows surrounding my music room.
That’s another reason I bought this place. I set one foot in this room, and I knew what it was meant for.
A hand brushes against the edge of my left hand, making me flinch. I pull my fingers from the keys, my eyes snapping open. But there’s no one there.
Just a memory from last night at The Sin and Sand. The hot spotlights above my head. The screaming crowd in front of me.
And Logan Shock by my side, playing the keyboard with me.
Without thinking, my fingers touch the keys again, and I play. Not my usual scales this time, but Soldier On. The lyrics dance on my tongue, but I don’t sing, still not quite awake enough for that yet. But my fingers move, the warm muscle memory taking hold, new memories carving deep enough to hit bone.
Logan’s hand brushes mine again, but this time we’re standing on my doorstep. The moon sits high in the sky. A desert wind blows past as I part my lips, his tongue a welcome invasion. His arm curls around me, his other hand possessively cupping my face, drawing my lips toward his.
I shift on the piano bench, the hard surface suddenly uncomfortable against the nagging heartbeat between my thighs.
Do you want to come in?
Yes, I do.
But I won’t.
I pull my fingers from the keys again, and the room falls into silence.
“God, what was I thinking?” I say. “I wasn’t. That’s the answer.”
Freddie hums slightly, a note echoing softly within.
“Logan was right, wasn’t he?” I ask, exhaling hard. “I’m not thinking straight.”
I haven’t for quite a while now. I’ve been very much sticking myself in the moment, not wanting to think about what’s coming next, not wanting to consider the consequences of what I’m doing.
I tilt my head. “It was fun, though.”
Freddie stares.
I gulp down some of my morning coffee, hoping to suppress the smile on my lips, but it curls right back up when I’m done swallowing.
I’m lovesick , he said.
“Maybe he’s right about that, too,” I murmur. “Maybe my heart is broken, and that’s why I’ve been the anti-Katrina lately. Maybe I am losing control, Freddie, but dammit... I kinda like it.” I look down at the row of keys in front of me. “Is that bad? Am I a… bad kitty?”
I tap middle C.
Freddie hums back.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “I think so, too.”
I touch the keys again, stroking from top to bottom, hearing a note between my ears. I play it, then another. And another. Until a melody I’ve never heard before forms.
I flinch toward my music journal, nearly knocking over my mug. I slide it to the other side and grab my pen, flipping open the journal and jotting the notes down before I forget them.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket. I ignore for another minute as I get down every little vivid detail of the song-in-progress in my head before looking at it.
Jordan
EMERGENCY BAND MEETING. ASAP. GUEST HOUSE.
“Jeez, who died?” I mutter before closing my journal. I give the piano a quick pat as I rise and say, “Gotta go, Freddie.”
I reach Botsford Manor about thirty minutes later, parking my car in the circle drive behind Knox’s car. It looks like everyone else is already here, too, and I’m the last to arrive.
Carve another notch in the anti-Katrina belt with that one.
I hit the garden path around the main house, angling toward the guest house across the lawn. The double doors are wide open, letting in the light and fresh air. As I walk inside, I spot the band seated in chairs around the sitting room where we usually practice.
The band... and only the band.
No Harmony. Not even Harvey.
Just Knox, Addison, Bronson, and Jordan.
And they’re all staring at me.
“Good morning,” I say, swallowing hard. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?” Knox repeats, scoffing. “You’re asking what’s up?”
“Uh... yeah?”
Jordan clears her throat, balancing her clipboard on her lap as she gestures to the last empty chair in the circle. “Kat, how about you take a seat?”
I scan their eyes, my spine growing taut as I realize what this is.
An intervention.
I slowly step forward and sink into the chair. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“You haven’t seen Gossipa this morning?” Addison asks.
“No,” I say. “But I usually go full media blackout after a tour...” I go quiet, their stares sharp enough to draw blood. “Why?”
Knox holds up his phone, the screen pointed at me. Music blares from the speakers, expanding in the crushing silence of the room.
A video of last night’s performance at the Sin and Sand.
The Electrics.
And me.
“Oh,” I say.
“Oh?” Knox spits. He silences the video as if hearing mine and Logan’s voices together makes him physically ill. “Oh?”
“Oh?!” I try again.
“Pick another vowel, Kat, and explain yourself.”
“Knox,” Jordan warns. “Remember what we talked about? Lowered, even voices. I-statements only.”
“Okay,” Knox says. “I feel like Katrina has some ‘splaining to do.”
I glance around the circle at Bronson and Addison and Jordan. All of them look at me with the same quiet intensity as Knox. Curious. Concerned.
“I was just... playing,” I say.
“Playing?” Jordan asks.
“Uh-huh.”
“With... The Electrics?”
I nod. “Mm-hmm.”
Knox exhales impatiently. “Gonna need a bit more than that, Kat. Why were you playing at the Sin and Sand with The Electrics?”
“I didn’t mean to,” I say. “It was an accident.”
“An accident?” he asks. “So, you tripped and fell on stage?”
“No. I didn’t...” I exhale, frustrated. “I was there. Logan saw me. He invited me on stage to play with them during the show. It was an ambush! I’m totally innocent here.”
“Why were you there?” Addison asks.
Their stares deepen, demanding an answer.
“I… decided to take a walk, and I ended up at the Sin and Sand. I was thirsty, so I figured I’d drop in to say hi to Pam and grab a quick drink before heading home. I didn’t know The Electrics had a gig! And if I’d known Logan was going to call me up on stage, I wouldn’t have stayed to... watch.”
“Why did you stay at all?” Knox asks, his cheeks red. “Why didn’t you turn around and walk out the second you realized it was their show?”
“I just wanted a drink, Knox,” I say weakly.
“And when Logan called you up on stage?” he asks. “Did you just want a drink then, too?”
“Knox,” Jordan warns again.
My brother ignores her, his eyes fixed on me. “Why did you get up on that stage?”
I look at my hands in my lap. “I didn’t want to be rude.”
He scoffs. “And you thought causing a media frenzy was the better option?”
I look at Jordan with sympathy. “Is it that bad?” I ask.
“My phone’s been ringing all morning,” she says, reaching for it on the end table. “Three missed calls since you sat down here and... “ She drops it face down again. “There’s number four.”
“Jordan, I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t think?—”
“No, you fucking didn’t, Kat,” Knox says.
“I didn’t know it’d be such a big deal!” I say over his interruption. “It was one song!”
“Right,” Addison says stiffly. “One of my dad’s songs.”
My chest sinks. Dade Connery. Addison’s legendary absent father who broke her mother’s heart and led to Addison getting kicked out at sixteen.
“It’s a famous song, Addy,” I say, trying to explain. “It’s like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Everyone knows it.”
“Not everyone knows the guy who wrote it is your best friend’s dad,” Knox says. “But Logan does.”
I frown. “You think Logan chose that song on purpose?”
“I think the guy who spent the last three months of his life making ours hell knew exactly what he was doing, yes.”
“Paul Monroe forced him to do those things. We know that now.”
“Did he force Logan to dance with you at the wedding, too?” Bronson asks, speaking up for the first time.
All heads snap toward him.
“That...” Knox says, sitting back, “is an excellent question, Bronson.”
“No,” I answer.
“How can you be sure?” Addison asks.
“I just am.”
“Well, I’m not,” Knox says. “I think now’s the time we call Jonah.”
“No!” Jordan says. “No one is calling Jonah. He’s on his honeymoon.”
“So?”
“So... the last thing we’re going to do is disturb the man on his honeymoon, Knox. We’ll talk to him on the 29th when he gets home. Until then, no one is calling Jonah.”
Knox sneers at her before looking at me again. “What happened after the show?” he asks.
I don’t move a muscle. “Nothing.”
His glare hardens.
“Nothing!” I say. “I met them backstage. We had a friendly chat, and I walked home.”
“Alone?” Addison asks.
I keep my expression blank, hoping the blush climbing up my neck isn’t as noticeable as it feels. “Yes,” I say, forcing myself not to blink.
“Friendly?” Knox asks. “You had a friendly chat with them?”
“Yeah.”
“So, you’re friends now?” he asks, clearly hating that idea.
I stutter, my lips trembling with memory, with the subtle bruises of Logan’s kiss. “I... I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? You don’t know if you’re friends with the guy who spied on my girlfriend? Who bugged our dressing room?”
“The yellow roses weren’t bugged, Knox. That’s silly.”
“Oh, did he tell you that?”
“Yes.”
“And you believe him?” Jordan asks.
“Yes, I do.”
Knox throws up his hands before rising out of his chair, too pissed off to sit still. “Jesus, Kat...”
“He’s not a liar,” I say. “At least, I don’t think he is. He and Goldie and Tesla... they aren’t bad people.”
“No one’s saying they are,” Jordan says.
“I am,” Knox says, standing tall. “The Electrics are the bad guys, little sister. I don’t care what you think or feel about it. They’re the enemy and this friendship ends here.”
I narrow my eyes. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“Knox,” Jordan warns.
“You can’t tell me what to do, Knox,” I say.
“Pretty sure I just did,” he says.
“And I’m pretty sure you sound just like Dad right now,” I say, knowing it’ll land.
His face sinks. His shoulders, too.
“Okay!” Jordan shouts as she pushes out of her chair. “Let’s all calm down.”
“We are calm,” Knox and I say in unison,
“Well, let’s hit reverse on the trauma train, then,” she says. “And take a break.”
“No,” Knox says, his hands planted on the back of his chair. “It’s fine. You’re right, Kat. Go do whatever the hell you want.”
I look down and say nothing.
Knox taps his fingers repeatedly against the chair back before pushing off. “I’m calling Jonah,” he says.
“No, you’re not!” Jordan and Addison shout together, halting him mid-stride.
Knox pouts. “But I miss him!”
They glare at him until he relents.
“Fine,” he says, sighing.
“I think we’ve all said what we wanted to say here,” Jordan says, giving a look around the circle to be sure, but no one speaks up. “Katrina is aware of our concerns and we can move past it. Right?”
She looks pointedly at me and waits for a response.
“Yeah,” I say.
The rest of them nod, murmuring their own agreements.
“Now...” Jordan takes a breath. “I’ll handle the media. As long as there are no further incidents, I see no reason this shouldn’t blow over. The rest of you go home, get some rest over the weekend, and we’ll meet back here on Monday morning for practice. We’re prepared for the Battle of the Bands, but we aren’t ready. And I want to be ready. Got it?”
When no one replies, she repeats, “Got it?!”
“Yeah,” we all say in various ways, avoiding each other’s eyes.
“Good.” Jordan nods. “Now, scoot.”
“Scoot?” Knox asks, confused.
“Engage? Activate?” Jordan glares at us all. “Get out! Grandpa Garland is still staying here and he and Fiona will only be out to lunch until noon.”
We all jolt out of our chairs. Jordan shoos us outside, but Bronson sticks around to help her fold up the chairs and put the furniture back where it belongs.
I rush past Knox and Addison and hit the garden path, feeling a little too much under the spotlight here. Especially after last night’s performance—which is in the process of going completely viral, apparently.
Too curious not to, I pause outside my car and reach into my pocket for my phone. As I swipe it on, the sound of feet pounding across pavement beelines in my direction.
“Kat, Wait ? —! ”
I startle back as Knox plows into the driver side door.
“What the hell, Knox?” I ask. “You almost made me drop my phone.”
“Sorry, I thought you were leaving,” he says.
“I am, so... please move.”
I pull the door handle, but Knox shoves the door closed.
“Hey!” I say, snapping my hand back.
“Are we cool?” he asks.
“What?”
“Are we cool?” he repeats. “You and me?”
“I don’t know.” I stand back, my arms crossing over my chest. “You tell me.”
“It’s just, uh...” He straightens his leather jacket on his shoulders, it having ruffled up on impact. “You kinda made me feel like an asshole in there. With the dad comment.”
My chest tightens. “Yeah, I didn’t... I didn’t mean...”
“And you snapped at me at the wedding, too.”
“Yeah. That was?—”
“Let me finish first. Please.”
I press my lips together and nod.
Knox takes a moment to catch his breath. “I’m sorry,” he says, his eye contact warm and genuine. “I didn’t mean to be a dick.”
“You’re right to worry, I guess,” I say slowly. “But last night really was an innocent mistake.”
He looks at me, thinking hard. “It was?”
“Of course.”
“Then there’s nothing going on between you and Logan?” he asks. “I mean, he crashed the wedding. He danced with you. Now he’s pulling you up on stage at his show. It’s a lot, and I don’t like it.”
“No,” I answer, my chest pinching. “There’s nothing going on between me and Logan.”
It hurts to lie, but is it a lie?
Can a kiss really be just a kiss?
“Good.” Knox’s stance relaxes a bit, and he smirks. “Doesn’t feel good on the top of Gossipa, does it?” he jokes.
I chuckle. “Nope.”
“Been there a few times lately myself.” He looks me over with his own unique brand of brotherly pride. “Anything else going on with you lately? Feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”
“Actually, I’ve been working on some new songs,” I say.
“Oh, yeah?”
“I’d love to show them to you. If you want to follow me back, we can have some lunch and?—”
“No can do today,” he says. “Harmony’s got us down for a couple’s massage.”
“Oh.” A familiar lonely rock settles in my stomach. “Okay, well. I guess I’ll just go home and rest, like Jordan said. Practice my parts and keep ignoring the internet for a while longer.”
Knox chuckles. “Solid plan.” His smile dips, his eyes turning serious. “And if Logan tries anything again, you let me know. I’ll kick his ass. Again.”
I roll my eyes as I yank my car door open. “Okay, Knox.”
“I’m serious,” he says, shifting out of the way of the door. “You’re off-limits! Anyone even thinks of putting their grubby hands on my little sister, they’ll have to answer to me.”
I start the car and pause, giving him a wave and blowing a kiss before driving home.
As Botsford Manor fades in my rearview mirror, the rock in my stomach feels more like a boulder.
I hate lying. Especially to Knox.
I really am a bad kitty, aren’t I?
Needing a reprieve from my own thoughts, I turn on the radio as I weave slowly through Las Vegas traffic.
“It’s drama in the rock section this morning after Logan Shock of The Electrics pulled little Katrina Benton on stage last night at their show in Las Vegas!” Jonny Red says, his token weasel-like voice making everything sound so... weasel-like. “Can’t imagine big brother Knox is too happy about that right now since the two frontmen nearly came to blows in this very studio earlier this summer! Stay tuned for more, because this drama is just heating up ? —”
I flick it off and groan, embracing the silence all the way home.
When I reach my house, I park my car in the driveway and rush to get inside before someone sees me.
Before I open the front door, a car comes to a sudden stop in front of the house, the tires squealing on the pavement as the horn blares.
“Hey!” a voice shouts at me. “There she is!”
Panic grips me, and I move faster through the door.
“Katrina! Wait up!”
I glance back over my shoulder, recognizing the voice.
Tesla?
A bright red convertible idles on the street. Top down. Goldie’s in the driver’s seat, her mess of golden curls barely tamed with a blue bandana.
Beside her, Tesla waves me over from the passenger side.
“Come on!” Tesla howls across the lawn loud enough to draw the neighbor’s attention, and she surely will if I don’t go over there. “Let’s go!”
I dart down the path towards the car. “Hey,” I say once I’m in speaking range. “What are you guys doing here?”
“What’s it look like?” Goldie asks. “We’re picking you up.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. Get in, loser!” Tesla grins. “We’re going thrifting.”
“Thrifting?”
Tesla pushes her door open and steps outside. “Las Vegas has some of the best thrift shops in the world and I’ve got cash burning holes in my purse. So, let’s go!” She gestures me into the backseat.
I don’t move. “You… want me to go shopping with you?”
“Uh... yeah.” Tesla slaps the open door. “Hurry your pretty ass up!”
Goldie howls into the air, her hand slapping the car horn impatiently, the sound echoing through the neighborhood. “Thrift shop! Thrift shop! Thrift shop!”
Tesla smiles. “You coming or not?”
I look them over; their sincere eyes and welcoming smiles. There’s a long list of reasons I shouldn’t go, and only one for why I should.
It sounds like fun.
I climb into the back seat amid another wave of welcome shouts and laughter.
Tesla slides her sunglasses back over her nose. “Goldie...” She raises her hand, filling the moment with anticipation before pointing forward. “Drive.”
Goldie slams on the gas and the car jerks forward.
As we race down the street and around the corner, I can’t help but laugh with them. I even miss the reality of what just happened.
The Electrics kidnapped me.