Guitar Face Series Box Set: Books 1-4

by Sasha Marshall

  “That’s bullshit,” Kip says. “I was standing around the corner the entire time listening, and I could see the two of you through the windows in the garage. She asked you to leave her alone, and you got closer and closer and kept fucking with her. You threw your shoulder out when she attempted to get around you and got yourself pushed. Don’t you dare put that on her!” he seethes.

  “What are you trying to do here, Claudia?” I ask.

  “I just think the two of us should patch this up. I mean if she is going to be our boy’s stepmother, then we need to learn to get along,” she bullshits.

  She’s really trying to start something here.

  She turns to Henley, who is standing close to the front door of the house, waiting to bolt any minute. She wants no part of this. Fuck me!

  “Henley,” she says her name with revulsion dripping from each letter. “I just wanted to be the one to tell you we have named our son Caleb.”

  What the fuck? No we haven’t.

  I see realization pass over Henley’s face, and the temper quickly follows. She slaps the shit out of Claudia. Claudia screams as though she’s been decked. The woman has an amazing right hook, a slap couldn’t have possibly hurt that bad. It dawns on me she is pregnant and my protectiveness for a child that might be mine takes over, so I rush over to Claudia to check on her. When I look up from the bitch, Henley is watching me fuss over her. Tears spill over her lids, and I know I’ve just broken her heart again.

  “She’s pregnant!” I try to defend myself from the accusation in her eyes. I am trying to tell her I’m concerned about the child, not Claudia, but I realize it doesn’t come across like that. Fuck!

  Henley turns on her heel and slings the door open, slamming it behind her. I run after her before my brain even tells me to do so. She’s walking fast, but I run and catch up to her.

  “Henley!” I yell for her to wait, but she doesn’t.

  I jump in front of her and stop her in her tracks. I place my hand on her cheek, “Baby, let me explain.”

  “Get out of my way!” she screams through her tears.

  “No. Come on, let me take you home and we can talk,” I beg.

  She pushes me back a few steps, rage and hurt burning through her eyes, “How could you?!!” she screams.

  I close the short distance between us, and pull her to my chest to comfort her. She fights against my chest, but I don’t let go.

  “How could you? How could you do this? Why me? What did I do to you?” she continues to shout and cry.

  Her knees give way, and I pull her closely as I lower her to the ground. She fights against my chest again.

  “You can’t use his name with her! You just can’t! I can’t believe you would do that. She didn’t know him. She doesn’t get to use his name!” she cries.

  She stops fighting me, and I rock her back and forth as my own tears escape down my face. I don’t care if anyone sees me cry.

  I pull back after a few minutes and pull her face up so she is looking into my eyes.

  “Baby, that conversation never took place. She knows how to push your buttons. She’s not a nice person. I would never name a child with her Caleb. I wouldn’t do that,” I say as she gives a small nod of understanding.

  She stands abruptly, leaving me on my knees on gravel.

  “I love you, but I don’t want to. I hate I think about you. I hate that everything I ever dreamed about happening between us was bullshit. I love you so much I hate you. It doesn’t make any sense, but I do. I hate you. I hate you can cut me so deep. Stay the fuck away from me.”

  I reach out for her, but she steps out of my reach. I launch myself after her as she walks away.

  “No, baby, no. Please don’t leave me. We can get through this. I love you, you love me, and nothing else matters.”

  She doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge my words, but instead stares ahead as she reaches her car. Her face has turned to stone, giving away no emotion or an inkling of what is going on inside her head. She opens the door, and attempts to close it, but I get my body in between the frame and door before she can, grab her under her knees and force her to face me. She surprisingly doesn’t fight me this time. I lean down to her and grab her face with both hands.

  “Look at me, baby,” I beg.

  She refuses to make eye contact so, I continue, “I love you. I am so sorry I hurt you. I’ll regret nothing more in my life. I’m truly sorry. You and I can get through this. I don’t want her. I want no one but you. You know that, Hen. I love you so fucking much.”

  She squeezes her eyes shut pushing tears down her face. I kiss them away and, breath in the way she smells. Her breath hitches when my lips touch her tear-stained cheeks. I pull her into my chest and breathe in the smell of her gorgeous blonde hair. I’m desperate. I’ll do anything, including sell my soul to the devil to have this woman in my arms for the rest of my life. I’ll do anything to fix this. Desperation in a man is unattractive, and it often takes something of this caliber to push us to this level of despair. What most men won’t ever tell you is pride rules most of our lives. We’re taught to be tough and show no weakness. Weakness is not masculine. However, when a woman makes you feel the way Henley does, you’ll do anything to make sure it doesn’t end. Fuck weak, I’m there, and I did it to myself.

  After several moments, she speaks, “Just let me go. Please just let me go.”

  “I will do anything you want, except that.”

  “I need to go. I have to get away from here. Please let me go. I need to go, Jag.”

  Her pleas hurt. I can’t let her go, why doesn’t she understand that?

  She attempts to push against me, but I hold her tighter, afraid to let go. She pushes again, but they turn into blows to my chest.

  “Let her go, son,” my dad says from behind me.

  “I love you so much, Hen. Please don’t ever forget that,” I whisper as I plant a kiss to the top of her head, and let her go. I walk away and find myself in Red’s empty studio, where I hit my knees and scream for the heavens to give her back. Just give her back.

  Chapter 8

  Henley

  The 26th was a wash. Claudia cornered me when she thought no one was looking and advised Jagger would love her, and I would be left in the dust. Luckily, Kip heard her, and all members of our framily witnessed a blow out of epic proportions. I left the situation before I exploded, Claudia followed like the dog she is, and said she would name her child Caleb, so… yeah… I kinda slapped a pregnant girl, and Jagger defended her, which broke my heart even further. Red laughed like hell, and said he could spot a bad egg a mile away, and the rotten stench coming off that girl was stinking up the entire state of Georgia. I am pretty sure I will be reincarnated into a slug in the next life, and just maybe, Red will keep me company.

  I am on my way back to Los Angeles. The state of Georgia is not big enough for all my drama. As I gaze out the window of the private jet, I try to remember the last time I could see Jagger without so much pain in my heart. When shit hits the fan in relationships, whether it is intimate or not, at some point the metaphorical shit eventually reaches the point of no return. I wonder if I am there yet. It still hurts too damn much to feel that way. I find a notebook and work through the thoughts in my head until they become lyrics.

  You promised forever,

  And said I was home. .

  Your words are so clever,

  But I was nothing more than a prize.

  To the victor belong the spoils,

  You win the toil.

  Remember I was home,

  And how the sunshine felt.

  When you fall to your knees,

  Remember the hand you dealt.

  I hope she was worth it,

  And she gives you everything you want.

  Fuck it,

  That was a lie.

  I hope you are consumed with misery,

  Then you will know what you did to me.
<
br />   Remember I was home,

  And how the sunshine felt.

  When you fall to your knees,

  Remember the hand you dealt.

  She’ll destroy your soul,

  And feed off your black heart.

  When there is nothing left of you,

  You’ll be all alone in the dark.

  When you can’t pick yourself off the floor,

  Don’t call on me, I won’t hear you anymore.

  Remember I was home,

  And how the sunshine felt.

  When you fall to your knees,

  Remember the hand you dealt.

  ***

  Henley

  Once we reach L.A., I load up Cash and join Rhys and Griffin in a limo. We left Georgia earlier than initially intended, so our friends stayed behind. Recording the new album takes precedence to everything else in my life right now. I need to get inside my head and the fuck away from this world.

  Rhys contacted Kai Scott last night and requested a meeting this evening to talk about the possibility of him producing our album. If he is all that and a bag of chips, I want him on this album. I owe that to Caleb. His name will forever be attached to Abandoned Shadow, and I need to do his name justice.

  Once I’m home, I unpack my gifts and luggage, feed Cash, and grab my guitar and a small amp. I pad my way to my beautiful back deck, and plug into the amp. I don’t have a song in mind; I just pour all the bullshit inside of me into those six strings. Somehow music unravels all the feelings inside a person. Someone once said, music is the way feelings sound, if that’s true the music coming out of this guitar is sad and broken.

  I lay the guitar down and retrieve Cash from the house for a walk on the beach and play with the sweet little monster. He is curious, but also a bit scared of the waves that advance towards him and then retreat. I watch him as the little wrinkles take over his forehead, and then his head turns to the side as he attempts to make sense of it all. I envy my new baby. I wish ocean waves were at the top of my list of enigmas to decipher. Cash barks and pouncing towards the waves, so I pull out my phone and video him, then send it to Kip and Red, and post it on Facebook and Twitter.

  He seems so afraid of the water, so I take him inside while I retrieve my wetsuit, and then return to the ocean with him. I hold onto him as he doggy paddles through the ocean. It doesn’t take him long to paddle himself around and cling onto me for dear life. I think he has had enough of an introduction to the Pacific Ocean, so I lock him on the back deck with some toys, pull my surf board from a storage room nearby, and head back to the blue sea.

  I attach my leash to my foot and then to the board, line myself up belly down on the board, and paddle. I move my board towards the waves, and when I see a wave, I pop up and ride it until it ends. I repeat this over and over again. The rush when you pop up on a board is intoxicating and addictive. You can’t just catch one wave; there is some drive inside a human being that makes us want to seem bigger than Mother Nature herself. We want to control it because sometimes it seems we can’t control anything else in this world.

  When the sun kisses the ocean, and the light fades, I let the waves carry me towards the beach. I sit on the board and peer out at the ocean, and for a moment, I wish it would swallow me. Maybe somewhere in the depths of the waters, where no human has ever been, the answers to the universe lie and wait for us to discover them. Maybe, just maybe, the cure for my heartache lies in those depths.

  “Henley!”

  I turn to see Rhys standing on the beach waving his arms. I paddle to the shore, pull the board to the deck, and set it against the rail. Kai Scott and Griffin are already seated on the deck, but both stand in greeting.

  “Ms. Hendrix, it’s nice to meet you again,” Kai says.

  “Henley, please. Do you guys mind if I change out of my swimsuit?”

  Kai takes me in. He undresses me with his eyes, and there isn’t a hell of a lot of clothing to remove.

  “Take your time, Hen, we are throwing steaks on the grill,” Griffin says.

  I shower the salt water off and dress in a comfortable, long, flowing, yellow, maxi dress. I find Cash eating a roll of toilet paper and clean up his mess. I think you are supposed to hit a dog with a newspaper or something, but he is so damn cute and I can’t bring myself to do it. I grab beer from the refrigerator and join my guests.

  “What are you cooking with the steaks?” I ask.

  “Rhys will microwave baked potatoes, and yes we bought you a truckload of cheese and sour cream,” Griffin says.

  I laugh.

  “You put cheese in your baked potato too?” Kai asks with a smile.

  “I think I put baked potato in my cheese and sour cream. It’s the only way to eat it,” I answer.

  “I have no idea how you stay so fit when you eat like that,” Rhys says.

  “She doesn’t sit still very long,” Griffin adds.

  The evening is beautiful and when the sun sets, the air is just warm enough. We drink beer, tell stories of old, and eat steaks and baked potatoes.

  “So tell me, where do you want to go with this new album, Henley?” Kai asks.

  I think about the expansive nature of the question. “The album should represent our lives since we lost Caleb. It should tell the story of loss, tragedy, heartache, and all the other things we’ve gone through in the last four years. I know we all endured the lost, and we couldn’t figure how to move on for a long time. Those should be themes to touch on. We haven’t discussed specifics with each other, except that we all want to record and perform again. This album has to be better than all the albums we have ever recorded, for Caleb.”

  “I was thinking along the same lines. This is our story, past, present, and future,” Rhys adds.

  “Where are you on song writing, Henley?” Kai asks.

  “I have songs on paper. Honestly, most of it is in my head. The feelings, the hurt, the good, the laughter, and the crazy times we all had, the bullshit I am living through now; it’s all up here. I wasn’t sure I’d ever play again, much less record, so I don’t have a lot down as of now,” I answer.

  “You obviously have a lot to say. Do you mind me looking at what you have?”

  I give Kai an uneasy expression. It’s never easy to hand over your most private thoughts. Lyrics are in a way a journal, conveying its author’s pain, shame, and experiences.

  “I’m aware you bore your soul in those lyrics, but I just want to see what direction we want to go with. If you aren’t comfortable yet with me, I understand,” he adds.

  “It’s not an issue of whether I am comfortable or not with you, I would like to get more down before I hand them over to you guys,” I say.

  “I understand. I have to be honest, if you all will have me, I would be honored to work on your album. You are legends, and I think we could make beautiful music together.”

  We play corn hole on the beach for a while, but I’m drained, so I leave the men folks up to it. I crawl into bed with Cash, and just as my eyes shut out the world, my phone pings. I have fifty-six missed calls and forty-two texts. I must’ve left it on the nightstand all evening. When I have that many missed calls and texts, it usually means all hell has broken loose. I don’t want to deal with it tonight, so I power the phone off, and find sweet sleep.

  ***

  Henley

  “I like your hair better red,” I tell Shaun.

  “The bright red?”

  “Yeah, it was hot,” I say.

  He rolls me over in the bed, and tucks my hair behind my ear. His smile is perfect, straight teeth, and infectious. I think I may have melted into the sheets.

  “You are so gorgeous,” he says.

  “I wouldn’t kick you out of bed for eating crackers either,” I respond.

  He kisses me softly and runs a hand up my side, and then up the inside of my arm until his fingers intertwine with my own. His kisses trail down my jaw, down my neck, across my sh
oulder, and then to the middle of my chest. He takes his sweet time exploring my body, kissing his way down to my… Oh sweet Jesus, he is kissing my hip bones. Almost there buddy, almost there. Just keep going. He is an inch away from The Notorious V.A.G., and just when I think the anticipation will kill me over, the phone rings. Shaun stops what he’s doing. No, no, no, no, no, please go back!

  “Don’t answer that,” he orders.

  “No problem, just keep doing what you were doing. I am begging you,” I plead.

  He lets out a little chuckle, I clearly stroked his ego, and if he will keep going, I will stroke something else for him. “You are an impatient little thing.”

  I swear his South African accent almost makes me come. Ever noticed the double standard in premature ejaculation? It’s the one area where women win. A man does it, and well he will be ridiculed, but it is a huge turn on for a woman to be so responsive.

  The phone stops ringing only to start right back up. I reach for the phone and throw it against the wall.

  “Continue,” I demand.

  “I love a woman who knows what she wants,” he smiles that gorgeous smile at me.

  “What I want is for that fucking phone to stop ringing so we can continue playing under the covers. I also want to come on your tongue and then on your cock. Please, please, ignore the damn phone,” I plead.

  “So you are saying you want two orgasms?” he asks.

  “At least! I don’t plan on letting you out of my bed anytime soon.”

  He chuckles again, “Where have you been my entire life?”

  He kisses me on my mouth, and I can’t help thinking he should’ve just picked up where he left off. I mean the man can kiss like a god, so I can only imagine what his kisses downtown would be like. I’m sure it will be earth shattering. As he sucks my nipple into his mouth, the fucking phone rings again. Shit!

  Shaun fades away and the sunlight peeks through my lids. No, no, no, no. I want to go back. Take me back to him. I was almost there!