Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
CALLUM/CASH
Then
Burn The Map & Follow the Fire
I was never looking for direction, just a reason to detonate.
Uncle John peers at me through the glass of the control room where he’s standing. “Cash, what’s the problem now?”
Bren and I are in the live room at the recording studio with the rest of Ur Boyz members laying tracks for our new album. I hate every song they have us doing. The three other guys in the band, the sheep as I like to call them, are irritated with me.
“These songs are shit.” I point to Bren. “Guns can attest. This album will be a flop because we sound like we’re singing to a bunch of fourth graders.”
Bren glares at me. “Dude, don’t fucking pull me into your bad mood.”
“Do you think these songs are worthwhile?” I deadpan.
“No, but we have a contract—”
“Fuck the contract.” I fume inside.
The truth is, I could get through this session if it weren’t for the fact I can’t stop thinking about my Lily kissing another guy.
And it won’t be a one-time thing. They’ll have to rehearse, shoot it, and then do it again and again.
I know it’s her job, but it still stings. The thought has my stomach wound in a tight ball. One wrong word and I will blow up like a bomb.
My uncle starts in again. “Cash, what would you like to add to the songs to make them something you can work with?”
I hold the song sheet out and smack it with the back of my hand. “How about some edge, maybe a little bit of soul. Let’s make it raw and real. Fucking hell, anything with some emotion.”
My uncle stands and speaks to the producer behind the glass. The intercom is off, so I can’t hear them. They look over some papers, take turns shaking their heads, and throw their hands around. They’re not getting anywhere.
“Fuck this. We’re wasting our time here.” I rip off my headphones and stomp out of the room.
I’m halfway down the hall when Bren runs up to join me. “Cash, you can’t keep leaving our sessions. They’ll drop us if you do.”
“Why is that a bad thing?” I continue out of the studio.
Bren follows. “Because people will lose money they’ve invested.”
I roll my eyes. “Then so be it.”
“Jesus, Cash. What’s with you today?”
“You know how I feel about this stupid band, so my attitude shouldn’t surprise you.”
“But now you’re talking about throwing it all away. Our plan is to get enough money so we can negotiate ourselves out of the contract and go out on our own.”
I push open the door that leads to the parking lot and march to my silver 1955 Porsche Spyder. It’s the one thing my pops left me. I fucking love this car, even if my uncle bitches about the cost of the insurance and upkeep.
He’d make me get rid of it if it weren’t for my ma. She always tells him to back off because it’s the only thing I have left of my pops.
I gesture to the passenger seat. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“To that back-door service dive bar where they let us drink. You know, the corrupt one who caters to us minors.”
“It’s eleven o’clock in the morning.”
“So?” I get in, jam my keys into the ignition, and rev the engine.
Bren opens the door and slides into the car. We tear out of the parking lot and are in the bar in less than ten minutes. I already feel better just being out of the studio.
A blonde wannabe actress-type waitress is serving us. “What shall it be today, fellas?”
“Guinness for me.” I slouch back, letting my leather jacket hang open.
My white T-shirt is tucked into my jeans. I glance at it and rip it loose. I don’t wanna be restricted.
Bren orders the same. Once the server is gone, he leans forward and stares at me.
I shrug my shoulders. “What?”
“I’m waiting for you to tell me what’s really bothering you.”
“You already know. I’ve been pissed about it for months.”
“This is more than that.”
“No. Actually, it’s not.” I scowl. “If we record that album, we’ll be out on tour all summer. Maybe even longer.”
“That’s the point.”
“Do you wanna be out there singing those shit songs?”
“No, but—”
“If we make that album, we’re gonna get put in a box. We’ll build the wrong fanbase and never be able to do what we want.”
“Cash, there are steps we have to take.”
“Fuck the steps. Let’s be men and carve our own way.”
Bren sits back and gives me a pointed glare. “Are you gonna be the one to tell my dad we fucked off?”
The waitress returns with our beers. “Want to keep it open?”
“Yeah.” I tip my chin at her. “And keep ’em coming. We’re having a business meeting and will be here for a while.”
“You got it, Cash.” She flashes me a seductive smile and sways off.
She’s wearing tight black jeans and a bar-issued shirt that’s knotted in the front to show off her skinny waist. Her tits are huge. I doubt they’re real, but who cares?
I follow her with my gaze. She’s smoking hot.
Bren’s irritated voice cuts into my thoughts. “What the fuck, Cash. You just started dating my sister. Don’t screw it up by doing something shitty like that.”
My cheeks burn. I adjust my dick and shift. “I wasn’t gonna act on it, but I’m still a guy with eyes.”
Bren glances at the retreating waitress. “She is fuckable.”
I laugh and fiddle with a white paper napkin on the table. “Back to the band.”
“What about it?”
“I have something I wanna run by you.” I gesture across the table. “You happen to have a pen?”
Bren hangs his arm over the back of his chair.
His eyebrows rise and one side of his mouth arches up. “Do I look like I’m carrying one?”
“Nah, guess not.” I peek back at the cute little waitress.
She’s sitting on a stool at the bar, twisting a piece of gum around her index finger while chatting with a nice-looking bartender as she watches us.
Bren and I are the only two in here, so there’s not much more they should be doing. I turn to Bren.
I hike my thumb over my shoulder. “Why don’t you go ask her for one?”
“Why me?”
“Set it up right and you’ll be getting more than a pen.”
Bren shows off his goofy, lopsided smile. “Always thinking, Cash. That’s why I like having you around.”
“Anything for my mate.” I sit back. “Go. I’ll wait here.”
He struts away as I think about Lily. I asked her not to use her tongue when she kisses this douchebag, but what if he uses his?
She’s not experienced enough to know how to get him to stop. At least not without her entire crew figuring it out.
My stomach rolls. I reach for my beer and down a third of it. I’ve gotta do something to get my mind off of what’s happening with her.
Bren returns wearing a grin on his face like he just got a blow job. “Here’s your pen.”
“Thanks.” I take it from him. “Sit and let’s brainstorm.”
He gets comfortable and watches me scratch our last names on the napkin. I start rearranging the letters to spell different words.
A combination appears that stops me in my tracks. Mayze plus Hemings together equals Mayhem. Chills crawl over my skin from my legs to the crown of my head.
I pull back and stare at the name of our fucking rock band. He doesn’t have to agree. This is it. I feel it in my bones.
I tap the napkin with the tip of the pen. “Mayhem has a nice sound to it, wouldn’t you say?”
“Fuck yeah. I love it.” Bren smacks his hands, rubbing them together when he does. “That took you less than a minute to come up with.”
“I’m a magician with words. They’re kinda my thing.” I look up and pin him with resolve. “If we start Mayhem, I’ll write the lyrics. They’ll be nothing like that shit we’ve been singing.”
He leans forward with a shine in his eyes I’ve never seen. “You’ll be the lead singer and backup guitarist. I’ll be lead guitarist and backup vocals. Hell, throw the piano in if you can. Women love when you play.”
“Hawke can be on drums and Cooper on bass.”
Bren sits back. “Fuck, Cash, we just created our band.”
“So you’re in?”
“You know it.”
“That means I’m not wasting my time with Ur Boyz.”
“But what about the people we’ll screw over by leaving?”
“It’s a shit group that isn’t going anywhere. They’re gonna lose sooner or later. The way I see it is the earlier it happens, the better for them.” I pick up my beer and drink.
“How do you figure?”
I place my glass down. “They won’t be using their time and resources on something that’s already buried in a grave. They’ll have a chance to do something that will give them life.”
“Always the philosopher.” He raises his beer. “To creating Mayhem.”
“Now that’s something I can stand behind.” My chest expands and a knowingness sets in. I lift my glass and tap his. “To creating a lot of fucking Mayhem. Let’s burn down the whole fucking world while we do.”
Five hours later, we stumble into his house. The attractive waitress drove us back after her shift ended. She drapes herself over Bren’s shoulder as he lets us in the front door.
“Make yourself at home, Cash.” Bren gestures to the upstairs. “We’ll be in my room.”
“Where are your parents?” I take off my jacket and toss it onto a fancy green velvet bench in the entryway. The floor is white marble with gold veins.
The Hemingses didn’t spare any detail when they built this place. They bought a mansion on the property and promptly tore it down. Mr. Hemings had his company build their dream house, and here I am, standing in the welcoming point of said home.
Bren leads the girl up the circular staircase. “My mom left for a photoshoot in New York this morning. My dad is in San Fran on business until tomorrow.”
“So you and Lily are alone for the night?”
“If not longer,” he hollers when he gets to the upper level. “Like I said, make yourself at home. Nobody is here to stop you from doing whatever you want.”
“Thanks, mate. And take your time. I’m sure I can find plenty to do.” I stride toward the kitchen.
My stomach growls. I rummage through the fridge for a drink and something to eat.
It’s not unusual for Mr. and Mrs. Hemings to leave their kids alone for a night or two, so I’m not surprised they’re out of town. I’m astonished that they left right as Lily and I started dating.
A house manager stops by to check on Bren and Livianna, but he never comes by after dinner. Maybe their parents don’t know that part. That, or they must trust us alone together.
I wouldn’t if I were them, but I’m not gonna call them and tell them to come back because there’s a possibility I might try something with their daughter once she gets home. That’s just idiotic.
I blare rock music through the stereo speakers in the kitchen as I make myself a sandwich and sip on a beer. I’m pumped Bren and I settled on our band’s name.
Having a name makes it real. And when Bren can actually visualize something, he works his ass off to hit the goal.
Mayhem.
Fuck, it’s perfect. I nod as a smile grows. This is the beginning of something great.
I sit at the counter and listen to the riffs and melodies in the different songs pouring out. I don’t like to pay attention to the lyrics, though.
No, those come from my soul. I don’t need to hear something someone else put together.
My songs are a piece of me. They have meaning. Every single one of them, and I have thousands written in a notebook. Nobody has ever heard them, but that’s about to change.
Once I’m finished eating, I grab my drink and retreat to the basement. I have some ideas swirling in my mind that I wanna test out on the instruments.
I mess around on the piano, then go to the guitar, trying to create a new sound. Nothing hits me hard like it has to be done, but I scribble down any arrangements that have potential.
I get lost in the art and lose track of time. I stare at a bunch of random words and notes I have before me on a stray song sheet I found.
A hand runs over my shoulders. “What are you working on?”
Lily’s seductive voice takes me out of the moment of deep focus. I twist on the stool to face her, pulling her between my thighs when she’s standing before me.
I gaze into her eyes. “We did it, Lily.”
Her grin lights up. “What did you do?”
“We created Mayhem today.”
“Mayhem?” Her expression drops. “If you pulled Bren into some kind of trouble, my dad will have your head. That won’t go over well for—”
“Mayhem is the name of our rock band.”
She pulls her head back. “What are you talking about?”
“Bren and I skipped out on our recording session and did some brainstorming.” I run my fingertips up her naked thighs.
She’s wearing a bright pink, white, and black plaid schoolgirl-type skirt with white knee-high socks. Her white button-down shirt is tied at the waist and open, exposing her pink bra.
Other than her jet-black hair, she looks like she walked out of Britney Spears’ “Baby One More Time” video.
In a flash, I forget everything as my dick hardens. “Lily, you’re doing it again.”
She narrows her eyes. “What?”
“Killing me with your…sexiness.”
Her cheeks blush. “I thought you only liked rocker chicks.”
“Wrong. I only like you.” And I’m starting to do a lot more than like you.
How I feel about her is more than finding her irresistible. She is, but this is more.
She’s feisty, determined, interesting, and she’s begging to be free to express herself any way she sees fit. It’s hot as fuck. My chest expands and my breathing kicks up.
Her gaze lands on my lips. “After that proclamation, why aren’t you doing something to show me you mean it?”
“I plan on doing just that.” My mouth is on hers in seconds.
I work my hand through her long hair as she climbs onto my lap. I stand to lead us toward the gray sectional couch as she wraps her legs around my waist. For someone with no experience, she’s not coming across that way.
Did she lie to me about that?
She pushes her hips into me and grinds on my hard shaft. The question leaves my mind.
She’s tiny, so I can hold her up with one hand. I carry her to a better place, while still making out with her like my life depends on it. It kind of feels like it does.
Kissing her is the most natural thing in the world. We just fit together. My heart flips at the thought.
She’s already got me wanting her more than anyone I ever have. And now she’s making herself a permanent fixture in my soul. I knew she would the second I saw her, but I didn’t expect it to hit this fast or hard.
I guide us to the couch as she paws at my back. We’re both breathless and we haven’t done a thing.
I place her down on her back and hover over her. “Lily, this thing between us—”
“Shh… Just have sex with me and we’ll talk about that after.”