Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Hendrix · Then
The Anthem – Good Charlotte
Seventeen Years Old
What the hell does a girl wear to her boyfriend’s first official gig?
The guys have been a proper band for a while now—rehearsing, finding their sound, playing the songs Cole and I have written for them—but they’ve never done a test run outside the garage.
I flick through the wardrobe and pull out a pair of half-tartan, half-black skinny jeans, then snag a Fall Out Boy top from the top shelf.
A studded belt comes next. My favourite high-top Converse, thick black winged liner, and poker-straight hair finish the look.
Footsteps sound in the hallway when I’m wrapping my straighteners.
I crane my neck just as my dad stomps past my open doorway.
“Hendrix. Downstairs. Now!”
“Coming,” I shout, hands trembling as I shove the straighteners into my drawer.
I was really hoping he wouldn’t be back from work before I slipped out of the house. No such fucking luck.
I toss my backpack over one shoulder, shove my phone into my back pocket, and wrap one of Cole’s hoodies around my waist before rushing down the stairs after him.
My dad sits in the large leather armchair, arms folded across his chest, a sneer twisting his face. “Have you been in the spare room?”
Yes. “No, why?”
“Hendrix.” He spears me with a glare. “The key isn’t in the drawer.”
My mouth drops open.
I clench it shut and shake my head.
“What did I tell you about touching my guitars?”
I kick my toes into the carpet. “Not to.”
“And yet, you keep doing it,” he blares, eyes the same shade of mine flaring when he jumps up.
I shrink back, grip tightening on my bag strap.
“You have no right to touch them, Hendrix. Everything in that room is mine, and I won’t let you tarnish it like you do everything else. Got it?”
“Got it, Dad.”
“I want the key back before you leave.”
I nod sharply before spinning away, stinging tears pricking my lids.
Most parents want to share their hobbies with their children—to teach them, encourage them, and learn with them. Not Frank Moore. He blames me for the fact his guitars are locked away.
He had plans. Big, huge plans. He was in a band, going to make it big, tour the world, and be a famous rock star. Then I came along, and everything fell apart.
It’s funny, really. I taught myself music to impress him. Spent hours as a kid sitting atop the basement stairs, listening, watching, hoping that one day he’d invite me in. It only made things worse.
The fact I had real talent was disappointing to him. As if he couldn’t fathom how I could have the same passion when I’m the reason his died.
I drop the spare room key onto the kitchen counter and slink out of the back door.
Rock Shots is rammed.
Sweat slicks my neck as I push through the crowd. An indie band bounces around the stage, covering a Fall Out Boy song.
I check the time and scan the packed bodies.
I was supposed to meet Theo out front, but after the run in with my dad, I missed the bus. It was either walk twenty-five minutes and be a little late, or miss the first half of their set while I waited for the next one to show.
I spy blonde space buns and weave my way towards them. Theo spins as I pull up beside her. I glance down at her, freezing as a disturbing number of Saint’s stare back at me on her T-shirt. Her lips twist into a grimace. “Don’t ask. I lost a bet.”
“Oh, I’m so asking. What was the bet?”
She pouts. “That I could learn Stairway to Heaven in a week.”
My shoulders shake as laughter spills from my lips.
Stairway to Heaven is a deceptively tricky song.
On the outside it seems like it should be easy to play. But when you get down to it, and start picking it apart, it requires dexterity, speed, and finesse that even people who have been playing for years struggle with at times.
I've been playing for years and it took me a solid day and a half to really nail it.
Theo, with zero guitar experience?
The girl had no chance.
I turn to her, pursing my lips. “You got played.”
“I got played so hard.” She doesn’t seem all that mad about the fact though, as she looks down at her boyfriend’s face with a glowing smile.
My arse vibrates as my phone buzzes in my back pocket.
I tug it out, a smile curving my face.
ROCK STAR
Have I told you how much I love you in my clothes?
I flick my eyes up and over the stage, spotting my boyfriend hanging in the wings. He winks.
HENDRIX
Only a thousand times already
And I’ll tell you a thousand more
Shouldn’t you be getting ready, not standing there texting me
Just wanted to check you made it. You were late.
I exhale a slow breath, tapping the side of my phone while I come up with an excuse for my tardiness. It’s not that I don’t think Cole would understand, it’s that he has no idea how tenuous my relationship with my father really is.
On the odd occasion he’s come to my house when my dad hasn’t been working—which is few and far between, I always find an excuse to go to his instead—I’ve locked us away in my bedroom so he won’t witness the reality of my home life.
Bus didn’t show. I had to walk.
You should have texted, I’d have picked you up
I smile in spite of myself. Since his parents gifted him a second-hand Ford Focus for his birthday, he’s found any excuse to be behind the wheel. Typical boy racer behaviour.
And have you late to your first gig? Never.
Now go be a rock star, Rock Star
I’ll come find you after
I’ll hold you to it
I look up, mouthing, I love you.
My phone buzzes again.
I love you more
Not possible.
Cole slinks backstage and I shove my phone back in my pocket.
The air is electric, the crowd pumped as Bohemian Rhapsody starts playing through the speakers and filling the room as the band on stage gathers their equipment.
I don’t know what it is about British gigs, but I’ve never been to one—small venue or stadium tour—where this song hasn’t played at least once in between acts.
Time ticks slowly, each second dragging as I watch the wings, waiting.
Then, lights flicker, one by one, before the room plunges into darkness.
The floor vibrates, the air charging with anticipation. A distorted lick cuts through the air. The speakers rattle as a bass pounds through them. Theo grips my hand.
A spotlight shines centre stage. A man in all black stands there. Ripped jeans, chain hanging from the waist, inked arm lax at his side while his hand curls around the stand.
My heart thunders.
Cole just stands there.
I bite my lip as his eyes scan the crowd before landing on me. The most gorgeous grin splits his lips. My stomach swoops. Saint trills his Fender, playing a song I know all too well.
Strobe lights hit the walls, bouncing over the audience as Carter kicks the bass drum and Axel swings his bass around his neck. Cole still doesn’t move. He’s like a statue—soaking it all in.
I trace his frame. His growth spurt came a little later than Saint’s, but boy did it come. Standing at six-four, he towers on that stage.
His black T-shirt clings to rippling muscles. I draw along his new sleeve; the artwork pristine, before landing on the black beaded bracelet on his wrist.
I glance down at my own, only to find mine missing, replaced by a white beaded bracelet instead.
That cheeky bastard.
I hadn’t even noticed he’d swapped them. His eyes heat when I look up at him again with a playful scowl.
“Hey, everyone,” he shouts into the microphone. The crowd hushes, every gaze in the room pinned on him. “You don’t know us yet. But you’re going to.”
Theo’s grip tightens around my hand.
“I’m Cole.” He hikes his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at each of the guys. “And this is Saint. Axel. And Carter. Remember those names, ’cause you’ll be screaming them one day.” My breath quickens as he turns his attention solely to me. “We’re Reckless Abandon. Let’s fucking go!”
I gape. “Did he…” Theo giggles at my side as I stutter. “They—my—name—songs.”
“He did,” Theo says as Saint leads them the first song of the night. “They did. They named themselves after your song, Rix.”
Holy shit.
A hand curls around my wrist, tugging me until I crash into a solid chest. Hot heavy lips claim mine.
I sink into Cole as his arm wraps around my back and he lifts me.
“Can you believe we just did that?” He laughs against my lips.
I beam. “You were incredible.”
“We played a gig, Rixie.” A joyous laugh spills from him. “And it went well.”
“And you told a bunch of now definitely fan girls that they’ll be screaming your name later.” I narrow my eyes in jest. “Should I be worried you’re gonna run off with one of them.”
He squeezes my hip. “Only one girl for me.”
“Charmer.” I kiss him again before he slides me down and threads our fingers together. “Seriously, though. The whole thing was amazing. From start to finish. You blew me away.”
“And the name…” He chews his lip, almost unsure as she watches for my reaction.
“I don’t even have words to describe what hearing that felt like. You had your pick of names, and you went with Reckless Abandon?” I hold my hand to my head and blow a heavy breath. “Mind. Blown. In the best of ways.”
“It just felt right. You’re as much a part of this as any of us. You know that, right?”
I nod as my stomach twists. It’s all I’ve ever wanted is to be a part of something like this—but there’s that lingering fear. What if I’m not good enough for the pedestal they’ve put me on?
Saint saunters over, clapping Cole on the back, before he turns to me. “Thoughts?”
I purse my lips, tilt my head and hum. “Bit sloppy on the riff at the end there, but not everyone can be perfect.”
He rocks my shoulder before throwing his arm over my shoulder. “Rude. You loved it.”
“I really did,” I tell him. “You were amazing. You all were amazing. The crowd fucking loved it. There’s no going back to the garage now.”
Cole pecks my cheek. “I’m just gonna go chat with Carter. Wait here, okay?”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He gives me a final glance, fire sparking in his eyes as he drags his gaze over me. “I love you.”
“I love you,” I echo as he strolls backwards.
Saint steers me away from the leaving crowd and toward his best up old green Mazda.
He hops up onto the bonnet, tapping the space beside him. I plant my palms on the cold metal and jump up next to him.
“Everything okay?” he asks, pulling a joint from his pocket, followed by his zippo. He hands it over to me, an unasked question in his eyes. “You were late.”
“Yeah. Just had a bad day.” I light the joint and pull in a slow drag. “You?”
“Just had a bad day.”
I nod. We won’t tell each other more than that. We never do.
“Better now though,” I say as I hand the joint off.
He flicks the burning ash. “Much better.”
The scent of skunk curls around us, smoke wafting through the air. I feel him watching, his all too knowing stare searing my cheeks.
“Promise me something, Rix.”
I hum, playfully. “Depends what it is.”
“Hold onto this." His voice rings out like a plea.
I swallow, watching as Cole saunters out way. His eyes collide with mine and I can feel the love shimmering in the depths.
“Whatever happens,” Saint continues. “Wherever, we go. Promise me you won’t let go of this.”
Theo catches up to Cole, eyes only for Saint and she spots us sitting here.
I clasp his warm hand, weaving our fingers together. “Only if you promise me the same.”