6. Ky
Chapter Six
Ky
Jamie and Sparks had been doing nothing but arguing all day. It was giving me a headache, and I didn’t handle any sort of pain with finesse. I wasn’t a grin-and-bear-it kind of person, more of a leave-me-the-fuck-alone-or-I-will-stab-you-with-the-first-sharp-thing-I-can-find-if-you-annoy-me-while-I-feel-like-shit type. The only person who could ever deal with me while I was sick or in pain was my mom.
Fuck, I missed her.
After the first round of the auditions, they had shut up as the ten candidates walked out to stand in front of us and the other three judges, Harris, Aubree, and Kale. It blew my mind that we were in the presence of rock legends like Aubree and Kale, but I needed to get used to that since Autumn’s Slumber was going to be on that list of royalty one day.
Most of the guys were dressed the same, roughly the same height, between five eleven and six one. I had no idea which of them had been one of the ones we’d liked or thought needed to seek another hobby since the first round had been a blind audition. I was kind of glad for that now. I wanted to be surprised by the group that was left over.
Of the ten of them, only one was dressed in a way that would fit in effortlessly with our band. I liked that they had put that kind of effort into impressing us. From the way Sparks and Jamie kept looking at the guy, they did too. The masked drummer was bulkier than we were, but I wasn’t sure if it was muscle or because they were overweight. Either way, I kept my eye on them as they stood lightly flicking their drumsticks against their thighs while Harris told the four we’d all vetoed it was a no-go.
Nate, the manager and VIP’s bartender, called the first two names for a battle, and I sat up a little straighter when he called Emil and Hellion. Emil had ink on his throat and across most of his exposed chest, wearing jeans and a tank top with a pair of Vans.
Hellion, though taller than the majority of the other candidates, moved with agility up onto the stage and began making adjustments. Kale and Aubree had picked which ones to pair up for the battles, along with the songs. Having the two drummers there to assist was helpful because none of us would have known how to test them, other than trying to find the perfect person to mesh with us.
I should have been focused on both drummers, but my gaze was continually drawn to Hellion. Sparks and Jamie sat on either side of me, both of them occasionally nudging me. Hellion showed so much passion, their movements effortless but sure. I thought about the battle, but I honestly couldn’t tell you one thing about Emil, simply because all I’d heard was Hellion.
“He’s the one,” Sparks growled beside my ear. “Hellion is who I want.”
“Same,” Jamie agreed, the two of them finally not snarling at each other. Since our original audition a few weeks back, my two remaining bandmates had been at each other’s throats night and day. All because of Hayat Cutter. “We need Hellion, Ky.”
I was in complete agreement with them, but this audition had to remain fair. “We have to see how they all do with the other rounds. I have a strong feeling Hellion will make the top two. We need to make sure we sound good together before we make anyone an offer.”
Begrudgingly, Sparks and Jamie both nodded, knowing I was right. It didn’t matter how talented Hellion was if we didn’t sound great as a band.
Not surprisingly, Hellion moved on to the next round. As did Atticus and some smug-looking creep named Wes. Emil and the other two who lost the battles trudged off, looking defeated. I felt a twinge of empathy, knowing it would have hurt me to have lost out on this opportunity as well.
Harris stood, while the three finalists sat off to the side. Atticus and Wes looked like they were equal parts exuberant and in awe as Devlin Cutter walked in and went to stand beside his son.
Same height. Same color eyes. Same dimples. The only difference between father and son was their hair styles—Devlin’s was a glossy black that fell down his back, while Harris kept his almost military short. And the obvious hand of time. Age lines around Devlin’s eyes and mouth told me he’d spent a lot of his life smiling, laughing. Enjoying his life with those he loved.
This wasn’t the first time I’d met Devlin Cutter, although it had been years since I’d lived next door to him with my dad and his other family. Hadley, Hannah, and Holden always looked down their sneering noses at the rocker, his wife, and their family. Devlin and Natalie had been nice but distant with me back then.
When I turned eighteen, however, I’d changed my name from Kyrie Renchford to Ky Carver and said goodbye to Dad and my stepfamily. I hadn’t seen the Cutters again until after my niece was born. Even then, Devlin had been kind but distant. Not that I could blame him after what my half brother had done to Maddie Dawson. Something inside me had needed to reach out to them when Avalyn was born, though. To make sure my niece was okay, ensure she didn’t need anything. And to assure them, if nothing else, Avalyn had a family member who would be there if she ever needed anything.
That little baby needed to know that someone cared.
But there had been no need for that, because Avalyn had an entire army of people around her who adored her. Who showed her how deeply she was loved and always would be. Her biological mother. Her adoptive parents. Grandparents. Aunts. Uncles. They would destroy the world for her—and most importantly, they would eviscerate whoever dared harm her.
I didn’t walk away that day with a clear conscience, but I didn’t have to look back to double-check that my beautiful little niece was safe and cared for.
After greeting Harris, Devlin came over to shake our hands. I swallowed a huge lump in my throat, knowing that if he was aware of who I was, this entire thing might end differently. Devlin had assured me back then that there were no hard feelings. At least, not between them and me. The Renchfords, on the other hand…well, that was another story. A war that would never come to an end. I was no longer a Renchford, however, so Devlin assured me the battle wouldn’t touch me.
But I didn’t want to take the chance that his hatred for my brother and stepmother might unconsciously or unintentionally shut down this opportunity for my band.
I was thankful when he moved on, hugging Aubree, then slapping Kale on the back. Stretching out his long arms, he then went to our three drummer auditionees. Wes and Atticus practically tripped over their feet introducing themselves, but when it came time for Hellion to greet him, the guy just grunted and shook his hand. There was no sign of awe emitting from him like it did from the other two, but he wasn’t disrespectful either.
Devlin gave Hellion an assessing look for several long, tense moments before pointing at Wes. “You. You’ll be my first victim.”
OtherWorld’s drummer was a legend because of the passion he put into each song. He could turn a missed beat into something fun and mystical rather than stressing over it and fucking up the entire song. He and Jesse Thornton were gods in their own rights as drummers, both of them in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. But while Jesse was meticulous, able to perfect and remember any song he ever played, never once missing a beat, he did lack the purehearted passion Devlin put into his work.
In the end, imperfections could be overlooked—to an extent. But if there was no passion, no emotion, then it spoiled the entire song. Hamel had no talent, and his passion levels had needed to be jump-started most of the time. But he’d been with us since we were all in prep school together. Then college. He wasn’t as close to me as Jamie and Sparks were, but a friend, nonetheless.
I still wanted him to be a friend, but he didn’t want anything to do with us since we’d made the decision to kick him out of Autumn’s Slumber. It hadn’t been anything personal. It was a career choice, not an emotional one.
Aubree and Kale watching with us was a good thing, especially when Devlin Cutter sat on his throne behind the drum set on the left. He was done making adjustments before Wes even took his seat.
“I don’t give a fuck if you’re better than me or not. For all I know, you’re the best drummer in the world. I don’t give two shits.” Devlin twirled one of his drumsticks in his hand. “I’m going to play a song, then you’re going to play one that you think is better. Don’t try to kiss my ass, boy. I want you to kick it. Ass-kissers don’t go far in this business. All it gets you is the smell of shit stuck in your nose.”
I could practically hear Wes gulp, his cockiness suddenly gone.
“Hope he tanks fast. I want to see Hellion up there,” Sparks muttered close to my ear.
“Atticus was good too,” I argued reasonably. But Sparks was right. These final three had been good, but Hellion had already shown us he could put on a show. He had passion and precision. It had been a thing of beauty to watch him with Emil earlier.
But if Emil had been paired with someone else, I was sure he would have made the top three over Wes.
My guitarist got his wish, because Wes tanked before he could get halfway through his own song to one-up Devlin. From the sour look on the older drummer’s face, he was more than disappointed. Wes not only picked a song that hadn’t been a better choice, but he’d also completely messed up the first drum solo.
Devlin let him finish the song, though, and then pointed a stick at Atticus. “Impress me.”
Atticus and Devlin seemed to have fun challenging each other. They each played three songs, leaving them both pouring sweat but grinning at each other.
Grabbing the towel Harris tossed him, Devlin wiped his face while Atticus retook his seat. After taking a moment to drink from his bottle of water, Devlin finally looked at the third and final candidate.
“I’m tired, kid. You start us off. Let me see what you can do first.”
Hellion twisted his neck left and right, rolling his shoulders to loosen up. Then he went straight into “Bleed” by Meshuggah. It was a song that many metal drummers challenged each other to, but it was extremely rough on the drummer’s feet.
Devlin’s jaw clenched while he listened and waited, then went straight into his own song, “Burn” by Deep Purple. Hellion seemed to snort at the choice and began playing Dream Theater’s “The Dance of Eternity.”
But when it should have been Devlin’s turn, Hellion kept playing, going straight for the throat with Nile’s “Lashed to the Slave Stick.” It was another metal song, with a blasting beat. Just watching the masked drummer play the song was an intense experience. Hellion had already shown us his range earlier. Now, he was playing to win against rock royalty.
From the grin on Devlin’s face, Hellion had done just that. The last song took coordination as well as creativity. I couldn’t look away from Hellion. Metal wasn’t part of our sound, but this wasn’t about that. It was to see the drummer’s passion. And fuck, but I’d never seen anyone so caught up in music before. Not like this. Not like our Hellion.
When the song was over, Devlin stood and bowed to the other drummer. Jamie, Sparks, and I wanted to bow at Hellion’s feet. Holy shit.
“You win, Hayat,” Devlin laughed. “Damn, sweetheart, that was magical. I didn’t even know you’d been playing around with that song. Beautiful.”
Sparks turned to stone beside me, while Jamie gave a cackle from the other side.
With a heavy sigh, Hellion pushed their hood back and then lifted the balaclava mask. Face drenched in sweat. Skin glowing red from exertion and the heat from wearing the mask. Chest heaving.
And my dick had never been so hard in my life.
Jesus fucking Christ. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Her thick, wild hair had been tamed into French braids down her back. She had smeared black makeup around her eyes that were red, but with an irritated grumble, she swiped the contacts out, giving me a glance at those aquamarine eyes. When she grinned at Devlin, I ached to lick her deep dimples.
Mine.
I pointedly ignored the possessive growl deep in the back of my mind. That shit needed to shut the fuck up. Jamie had been right. Hayat was made for us— made for me .
But that didn’t mean Sparks had been wrong. She would attract the wrong kind of attention.
Unless she was willing to keep her identity anonymous like the rest of us.
I hoped she could accept that, because I wasn’t sure I was willing to offer the position to anyone else. And I wasn’t completely sure if that was because of her exceptional talent.
Or because I was unwilling to let her get away for my own personal reasons.
Mine.
Like how I wanted to taste her plump pink lips. Or squeeze that ripe ass in both hands. Or lick the sweat off her skin from her tits all the way up her neck.
Hayat Cutter was utter perfection. All the pictures I’d seen of her over the years didn’t do this goddess justice. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman in the world. But she wasn’t delicate. Fragile women were my biggest turn-off. Along with whiny little bitches who were never told no in their lives. Followed just as quickly by the kind of chick who spent too much time and money on her appearance.
Hayat wasn’t any of those things.
She was gorgeous without having to try. Had skills that would pay her own way through life. And that gives-no-fucks attitude was sexy as hell.
Hayat Cutter was going to be Autumn’s Slumber’s new drummer.
And she sure as fuck was going to be mine, goddamn it.
She. Was. Ours.