Chapter 5
Chapter Five
CALLUM/CASH
Now
Southbound Static & Sinful Setups
Certain conversations don’t go anywhere until you’re ready to finish them, and I’m starting to think I'll never be ready.
“Tell me you’re not still brooding over that song.” Bren drops onto the sectional in the corner of the writing room, one arm slung along the back, his gaze settled on me.
I push back from the table. “I’m not brooding.”
“You’ve been staring at the same four words for an hour.” He gestures toward the legal pad. “That’s brooding, bro.”
“That’s creativity taking its time.”
“Nah. It means you have something on your mind that you’re obsessing over.” He stretches out his legs and crosses them at the ankle.
He’s not wrong. There’s a question sitting in my gut that I left unanswered in La Jolla four days ago, and every hour I don’t deal with it, it gets heavier.
Livianna’s on the fence about not using condoms anymore, and I’m not sure why. She couldn’t pinpoint a reason. She just said she needed more time to consider it.
I place my pen down. “Cooper and Hawke coming in?”
“Hawke’s on his way. Cooper’s an hour out.” Bren tilts his head. “Wanna hang out tonight?”
“Where?”
“Long Beach.” He pulls his phone out and angles the screen toward me, showing me a flyer for a band playing at a small waterfront venue. “I got the tip from a guy in the scene. He says these kids are raw and hungry. Like us when we started out.”
“What kind of sound?”
“Heavy on the guitar. Gritty.” He pockets his phone and leans forward with both elbows on his knees. “The kind of set that makes you feel like you’re back in the early days when the desire to make music that moves people was our only driving force.”
“Nice.” I let my mind wander back in time.
Ur Boyz was everything we weren’t. Then came the beginning of Mayhem. As much shit as I’ve gone through after I decided to sign with Leon fuckwad Baker, it’s surprising I’m still around.
I shake off the thought. “What time does it start?”
“They go on at nine.” He gets to his feet and grabs his jacket off the arm of the sectional. “We need to leave soon, or we’ll be standing at the back all night. Plus, I need some grub.”
“Cooper and Hawke?—”
“I’ll text them. They can meet us there.” He points at me. “Stop overcomplicating life, Cash. You’re getting everything you’ve ever wanted. Act like it, bro. Or do I need to pound it into your head?”
“Fucking hell, Guns, I’m not overcomplicating anything. I know I’m lucky as shit to be with Livianna.”
“Ah ha. There it is.” He struts toward the hallway door. “I knew your attitude had something to do with her.”
I roll my eyes and follow. “You always think you know me better than I know myself.”
“I do.”
I smack the back of his head in a normal banter kind of way. “Fuck off, mate. You know nothing about what goes on in my brain.”
“Yeah? I bet if we went on a game show and the topic was to list all the facts you know about the other person, I’d win, hands down.”
“Whatever.” I pull my keys out of my jeans pocket.
We get into my sleek, new electric car and start our drive to Long Beach. I can’t believe I bought this ride, but these are damn fast, and I love the speed.
My Porsche sits in the garage at home. It may be on its last leg, but I’m not getting rid of it despite the cost.
We’re twenty minutes out of the studio when I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Livianna.
Three rings. Four. Then she picks up. “Hey, love.”
“Hey, love.” I merge onto the freeway and settle into the lane. “Just wanna let you know I’m gonna be late tonight.”
“Oh.” A beat passes. “Actually, that will work out great.”
I wait for follow-up questions, but they don’t come. And the tone of her voice is as if she wants to be alone…or without me.
Does she want to be with Jaxon? That thought makes my chest tighten.
I force it down. “Guns and I are heading to Long Beach to check out this new band.”
“That sounds fun.” Her voice is easy, bright. Too bright.
I don’t know why, but this conversation and the excitement in her tone aren’t sitting right with me.
“You good on your own tonight, Lily?”
“Completely.” She exhales a small laugh. “I’ll probably just work late.”
Work late. Those two words hit cold in my heart and sit there.
“Where?”
“Here at the studio. I have a few errands I need to run, so this works out best.”
“Anyone staying with you to help?” I try to keep my unease undetected by keeping my words level.
“No. Ella went home early to focus on organizing the production schedule.”
Livianna didn’t mention Jaxon. Cool.
Bren shifts in the passenger seat. In my periphery, his head turns slowly toward me.
“So, you’re working late, but what errands do you have? Maybe I could help.”
“Um…no. What needs to be done can only be completed by me.”
“Why?”
“Callum, you don’t need to worry about it. I just need to do something myself.”
“Why the pushback?” The tension crawls up through my jaw and settles in my neck. “I like being there for you.”
“I know, but this is something I need to do on my own.”
“Care to share why?”
“Callum…” She pauses and sighs. “Jaxon offered to stay and go over the cosmetics investment notes with me. I’m going to do that, and then get my other things taken care of.”
“Just you and Jaxon?” I grip the wheel tighter.
“Yes. Why? Does that bother you?”
I hold back for a second, and then the words fall from my lips before I can stop them. “It’s strange how much time you spend with him. You were in his office when I left there this morning. How much more do you need from him?”
“Callum, if it weren’t for him, I would’ve lost my business. He’s the only one who knows how I got from where I was to where I am.”
“Lily, I already know that.” I take a deep breath and release it slowly. “I know you need him.”
“Then why do you sound like that?”
“I don’t sound like anything.” I release my grip on the wheel before I do damage to it. “It’s just that I wanna make sure you’re not wearing yourself out.”
“I’m fine. Go enjoy the show.”
“Yeah.” My stomach hardens. “I’ll text you when we’re heading back.”
“Okay. Have fun.” And she’s gone.
I drop the phone onto the console between us. Bren sits with one arm propped against the passenger door, chin resting against his fist.
His eyebrows are riding high enough to have their own zip code. He stares at me in complete silence, which is somehow louder than anything he could put into words. The freeway stretches out ahead, the afternoon light bleeding amber across the asphalt.
“What was that about?” Bren finally breaks the quiet.
“Nothing.” I keep my eyes on the road.
“Nothing, my ass.”
“What? Nothing is bothering me.”
“You just interrogated your fiancée about her work schedule on the way to a show we’re supposed to enjoy.” He shifts in the seat to face me fully.
“I wasn’t interrogating her.”
“You grilled her. Where are you working? Who’s staying with you? What errands? And why can’t I help? That’s an interrogation, bro.”
My insides tighten. “I was just checking in.”
“You were spiraling.”
The word lands with the precision of someone who’s said it to me before. More than once. More than a handful of times across more years than either of us probably wants to count.
“I’m not spiraling, Guns.”
“Then what do you call it?”
“My therapist says I’m being present in my relationship.” I change lanes and push the speed up a fraction. “That’s what people do when they give a damn.”
“People who give a damn don’t turn a phone call into a cross-examination.” His voice stays level, no heat in it, just the steady weight of someone who’s witnessed me unravel before and isn’t interested in doing it again. “She told you she was working late. That’s it. That’s the whole story.”
“She was cagey about it.”
“Somehow, I don’t think it’s as bad as you say.”
“You don’t know that.”
“And you don’t know the alternative.” He rests his arm along the door again. “She said yes. She’s wearing your ring. And instead of riding that, you’re manufacturing problems in your head that don't exist.”
I don’t answer. The freeway opens up ahead of us, and I let the car eat up the distance.
“How long has it been?” Bren gazes out the window, pretending this question isn’t loaded.
I know exactly what he’s asking. “Eleven months.”
“Eleven months clean is eleven months you’ve worked your ass off for. The second you let your head run loose on nothing, that’s when it gets dangerous. You know that.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” He glances over. “Because the Cash I’ve seen the last few days looks like the one who used to disappear on me for three days at a stretch and come back unable to stand up straight.”
The memory of that version of myself coats the back of my throat like copper.
“I’m not going back there.” I mean it with everything I have.
“Then don’t give that energy a door to walk through. Livianna loves you. Stop handing your brain a reason to burn it down.”
Bren goes quiet after that, and so do I. But the silence carries something he doesn’t know about. A reason he can’t name because I haven’t given it to him.
Jaxon Crowne isn’t nothing. He’s the ultimate threat, and if I don’t get a handle on Livianna and him being around on another, I’m sure to self-sabotage. It’s fucking brutal to think of losing her again. I don’t know what I would do if I did.
I lean closer to Bren so he can hear me over the band. “They’re sick, Guns.”
“I knew they would be.”
The gig is everything Bren promised. Raw, loud, and hungry. The venue is small enough that the bass lives in your chest, and for two songs straight, I let it drown out everything else.
Cooper has a beer. Hawke’s nodding along, arms crossed, the way he does when he’s genuinely impressed but won’t admit it at first. Bren’s playing air guitar as if he’s the one playing up on stage. And me, I’m just taking it all in.
It’s good to be here, the four of us, no obligations, no cameras, and no one wanting anything from us. Then I clock the suits near the bar.