Guitar Face Series Box Set: Books 1-4

by Sasha Marshall

  He looks at his hands the entire time he talks, and in true Kip fashion, he uses his hands to speak. When he’s done, he looks up at me from where he sits, and sighs.

  “I’d already forgiven you,” I say.

  “Yeah?” he sounds unsure.

  “Yeah, I did. You’re my best friend.”

  He swallows. I guess he’s relieved the conversation is over and went well.

  “You call too many people your best friend. Since I’m your real best friend it should be brought to your attention,” he pouts.

  Kip pretends to pout, but I know him better than he does himself. He needs reassurance that we are okay.

  I place my hands on either side of his face. “Kip, they are all my best friends in different respects. Living the life we live… in this life there is only one type of friend to have, the ones who are always there and will take your secrets to the grave. Those are best friends and we’re both damn lucky to be surrounded by them. You and me, we’re different than them. Even when we’re surrounded by a thousand people, we can feel so lost and alone. We let our demons get the best of us, and we depend on each other far more than we do the others. We understand pain and the need to be loved, our needs going past basic human nature. I didn’t even have this with Caleb. He was my best friend, but somewhere in all the chaos and tragedy you became the one who stood by my side, and understood me. You understood my pain without me ever saying a damn word. You pick my every emotion by simply walking in the room. Since Caleb died, you’ve picked me up off the floor more times than anyone else.”

  “You get me too. You’re the only one who has ever known what I needed before I knew. You really are my best friend.”

  “We’re okay, Kip,” I say to reassure him once more.

  Kip can’t let shit stay serious. “I know we’re okay. I mean, I just needed to tell you that I know I’m your real best friend. The rest of them try, but they never had a chance when I am the competition.”

  I bark out laughter at this idiot, because he’s my idiot, and life just wouldn’t be the same without him.

  “So, are you leaving because you want to use?” he asks.

  “No. Quite the opposite actually. I’m leaving because I want to find peace. I came back here to find it and made progress, but then all this shit happened. I need space from it for just a little while.”

  ***

  Two Weeks Later

  Cory, Joe, and I head to Columbia to begin a six-week backpacking trip through South America. Cory has healed, and both men are fit, so we’re all looking forward to the vacation. When the plane touches down, I let out a sigh of relief. Members from both bands are beginning a promotional tour for the new albums and tour. Everyone seemed on board and understanding about me taking a little time before the chaos begins.

  I turn my phone on and it alerts me of a message. I open a message from Kip. He’s sent a picture of a cartoon mosquito with massive fangs.

  “Watch the mosquitoes, those fuckers are evil…. And don’t fucking get malaria. People like die and shit from it.”

  “We’re required to take medicine to prevent it, but if the mosquitoes look like that here I’m coming home,” I reply.

  We traveled with what could fit in our hiking bags, so we grab our carryon luggage and leave the plane.

  Kip’s next text alerts my phone, “Good, come home. South America sucks anyways. Plus you’re a North American and everyone hates U.S. citizens. I might secretly be a ninja but fighting drug cartels for kidnapping you is a bit much to ask, even from me.”

  I literally laugh out loud and glance around the airport at the stares I receive. They’re wondering what in the hell is so funny. Even Joe and Cory are giving me an inquisitive stares.

  “It’s Kip,” I explain.

  “That explains everything. Say no more,” Joe says.

  We spend the first week of our vacation in Columbia. It takes three days to march to The Lost City deep in the mountains. We spent the first day in a Jeep riding up a mountain until the road ended. We spent the night in a local village, and then the hard work began. On the second day, we crossed rivers and walked on soggy ground. It was far more difficult and taxing than you might imagine. Late in the day we reached a small set of shelters specifically built for people who brave this journey. Food’s offered to us, and once our bellies were full, we found sleep quickly. Our exhausted bodies caused us to question our sanity multiple times along our journey. The next day we completed the 27 mile trek to the ancient city of ruins. We climbed rocks, steep paths, and dared to live in the jungle amongst deadly predators. When we entered the staircase to the ancient city, I smiled so big it hurt. I hugged Cory and Joe, and with a burst of adrenaline I set off to photograph the city. Once we explored the wonder, I took a few moments to organize the pictures into an album on my phone. I sent a slide show to all my friends and family.

  Kip’s reply, “I don’t want you to be alarmed, but I’m pretty sure Joe has malaria.”

  “Why do you think he has malaria?”

  “Just look at him. I look at all these pictures and I think ‘hot blonde, scary Cory, oh shit, Joe has fucking malaria!’” he answers.

  “I don’t look and him and think, ‘oh shit, Joe has fucking malaria!’”

  “It’s because you’ve seen him every day. It’s like when someone gets really fat. They don’t just wake up with an extra 75 pounds. That shit creeps up on you, and next thing you know you’re looking at the person and thinking ‘When did you get fat?’ It’s very similar to malaria,” he argues.

  “I don’t think malaria is quite like gaining 75 pounds. Plus, I told you we took medications to prevent us from contracting it.”

  “You should take him somewhere private and break the news. I don’t want the peepers in the jungle to go crazy when Joe starts crying like a bitch.”

  “The peepers in the jungle? What the fuck is that? How do you come up with all this shit?”

  “Google.”

  “If it’s on the internet, it must be true,” I type.

  “Exactly.”

  “Do I need to Google jungle peepers?”

  “No, I’m way more sensitive than Google. I’ll walk you through this and let you down easy. Jungle peepers are those local tribe people that lurk in the jungle watching you. It’s fucking creepy. You never even suspect you’re being watched. At the first sign of weakness, those little mother fuckers jump out with machetes and automatic weapons and go ape shit. Their faces are painted like skeletons and it freaks me the fuck out. They hack all the humans they see into tiny little pieces and eat them. Cannibalism is not very appealing if you ask me, but tomato, tomatoe. I’d personally need to use an insane amount of barbeque sauce to get through it. Anyhow, if Joe starts crying like he has a vagina, they’ll spot his weakness and next thing you know, Joe’s head is on the barbeque for dinner tonight.”

  “That was sensitive?”

  “Well I forgot to end it with, ‘Are you okay?’ My bad,” he replies.

  “See what a difference that would’ve made?”

  “I said my bad! Geez! What more do you want?”

  “I don’t want Joe to have malaria for starters.”

  “Well it’s too late for that missy! You went off to fulfill your Indian Jones dreams! You should’ve thought of malaria before now. You’re so selfish.” Kip chastises.

  “How do you recommend I tell Joe he will die from either malaria or the peepers?”

  “Whatever you do, do not shout that shit out like a fucking banshee. The city is ancient and delicate like a flower. If you shout it will cause a landslide. Then he’ll have malaria, but die in a landslide or from the peepers. Peepers don’t like landslides. It makes them nervous and jumpy, and that means machetes and guns.”

  I regretfully and quietly inform Joe that Kip believes him to have malaria. When he chuckles, I inform him about the jungle peepers. Cory and Joe may have lost oxygen to the brain during that fit
of laughter.

  We spent three days making our way back to our starting point where we climbed onto a plane and spent the remaining five weeks in Peru, Chile, and Bolivia. Once the promotional tour begins, I hear less from my friends. It gives me time to enjoy traveling and pushing my body to the limits. I breathe in fresh air and eat indigenous foods. I meditate each morning and night and reach a new place inside of me.

  I take the morning and nights to evaluate all the messiness in my life. While Randall was something I couldn’t have prevented, I still need to find peace over his death. I’ve thought back to the dream I had with Caleb the night of the attack, and it gave me so much insight. I’ve replayed his words so many times. The thought that he wouldn’t have lived for very long had I died that fateful night gives me so much peace in why he went. I still have him whether it is in my own head or maybe I actually do see him during my dreams. It feels so real that maybe I’ll accept that I don’t need to explain everything, and the time I spend with Caleb is not something I need to explain. It brings me peace and I’ll hold on to it for as long as possible.

  As I trek across South America, I think often about Jagger and Ian. I believed for so long that I loved Jagger, and when I could finally say that out loud I didn’t want to lose the opportunity to do so. Jagger’s love burns so hot. It’s full of passion and is so overwhelming at times I feel like I’ll get lost. During those moments, it feels safe and warm, but I have such a difficult time finding my way back when I lose myself. I believe Jagger never intended to hurt me with the Claudia situation if anything he fought valiantly to protect me. He always has, and I’m aware. When our love is good, it feels so much like the rush you get on a rollercoaster. It makes your belly flip and flop, and the smile on your face feels permanent. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so big, and your ribs become sore from the laughter that breaks loose. It’s thrilling but safe. Taking the leap into love feels so right it could never be wrong, but when our love fails us, it feels like walking through a haunted house during Halloween. It’s dark and scary. Things are constantly jumping out at you and the fear of attack always feels so imminent. Your guard is up and anxiety sinks deep into your belly. It sinks so deep that a visit back to the house during the day time only reminds you of the panic that lingers, never at ease, always threatening to claw its way up. Did we let things go too far? Maybe our childhood crushes needed to be lived out, but our passion is so explosive when united it isn’t possible to keep the relationship lively. It so often moves from a healthy plane to a perilous and toxic ground.

  How I even got to the point in my life where I need to assess two men is still beyond me. Ian professes his love to me after he says he can’t be seen in public with me. Romance must not have been the theme for the evening. Ian has just a touch of bad boy and the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, but he cut me deep enough I’m not keen on jumping the gun with him. We always had this understanding between us. We had a good time whenever we were together, but that didn’t always mean we were having sex. I think nothing long term would ever be in the stars for us, but I’ll forever be linked to him because half the globe has seen us doing the dirty. Did I feel a false sense of comfort and security in our friendship and agreement? If things had turned out differently the day Jessica and I visited, I might have given him a chance. God knows I was vulnerable and hurting. I was standing in front of him with my heart bleeding onto the floor and all he did was tear the damn thing out of me. I love Ian, I really do. I just can’t keep making decisions with men who are capable of tearing me apart. If I can’t count on him to stand by my side when the world witnessed the most intimate moment of our relationship, then what can I count on him for?

  Six weeks come and go so quickly and part of me is sad to leave the anonymity of this continent, but the other part of me is ready to strap on my Jimmy Choo’s and show the world what the Guitar Goddess is made of.

  Chapter 16

  Memphis

  Rhys, Griffin, Jessica, and I are waiting for Hen to arrive from the airport. Her plane landed an hour ago and I’m anxiously awaiting her. We’ve been in city after city promoting our new album and the tour. Her absence is felt and noticed every damn second. She’s our leader and I’m new to this level of craziness. I’m ready for my little sister to be back and help me through this shit.

  My foot taps out a song I heard this morning while Rhys drums with his fingers on a nearby table in our hotel suite. Jessica’s phone interrupts my anxiety.

  “Got it,” she says and disconnects.

  “Hen here?” I ask.

  “Her limo is expected in about five minutes. Want to see her work a crowd?” Jessica asks.

  “Fuck yeah,” I answer.

  Jessica leads us to a balcony where we can see a large crowd gathered below. Where did all these fucking people come from?

  As if Jess read my thoughts, “They’re always crazy as hell in Italy.”

  She shrugs like it’s no big deal. Once I’m able to play on stage I hope I’ll handle this part of it better. Perhaps I’ll even appreciate it more. The guys from Broken Access join us on the balcony apparently having heard about her impending arrival. They seem a little off too, so I don’t think it’s just me who needs her to keep me together.

  Koi slaps me on the back and leans down to the railing beside me. “Man I’ve missed her. I’m glad she will be here.”

  “I missed her too.”

  The crowd erupts in cheers and the sheer volume is astonishing. A sleek black limo inches forward until it reaches the drop off point for her. Hotel security and police officers surround her limo. Cory and Joe emerge instructing the surrounding men on what appears to be their luggage. Joe remains at the door he exited with his hand firmly on the handle. He watches the crowd and seems to assess the energy. I see Cory give him a nod, and he opens the door. The crowd screams even louder. Cory is standing in their way though, blocking the open door. I see hints of blonde hair, and then all hell breaks loose.

  Cory steps aside, fledged on both sides by Cory and Joe and the moment she’s visible I breathe a sigh of relief and the crowd goes ape shit. She never falters. Her smile is in place from the time Cory stepped out of our vision. She waves at the crowd. She stops several times on the way in the door to take pictures with fans, sign memorabilia, and hug their necks. She smiles the whole damn time. She’s really good at this. She handles it with such poise and ease.

  I turn from the balcony when I can no longer see her and see every person on this tour smiling as big as I am. I guess I was right, we all missed her. Jessica gives me her room number and I make tracks to it. I’m not sure if she’s in it yet, but I hope like hell she is. Cory opens it moments later and gives me a small smile, something rare for him. He must sense how much we miss and need her.

  “Henley!” I yell.

  “Yeah?” she asks.

  She rounds the corner, taking two big strides to her I scoop her little body into my arms and squeeze her as tight as I can without hurting her.

  “I missed you so fucking much,” I admit.

  “I missed you too, Memph.”

  I release and look down at her pretty face. Her hair looks like it’s been lightened a touch, and her makeup is impeccable.

  “Tell me all about South America!” I say.

  Before she can get a word out, I’m literally shoved out of the way and Kip lifts her then spins her around. He doesn’t let go for quite a while. When he finally does, he turns immediately to Joe.

  “Bruh, I’m so glad you’re alive. You’re a lucky fucker.”

  The room is crowded now with both bands and some tour staff eager to see Henley.

  “What the fuck happened to you?” I ask Joe.

  “Nothing, but to hear Kip tell it I was going to die from malaria, cannibalistic jungle peepers, and/or a landslide,” Joe explains while trying not to laugh.

  “You got malaria?” I ask.

  “Fuck no he didn’t get malaria. Kip took on
e look at a picture of him and was determined by sight alone he was infected,” Henley says.

  “I was a little obsessed with malaria for a few days. It passed,” Kip explains.

  “Thank God,” Joe says.

  “Hey, the jungle peepers are real man! You’re lucky I told you about them. I couldn’t have you in an ancient lost city with my favorite person and not warn you. I mean it’s a lost city for fuck’s sake. Do you know what happens in places like that?” Kip asks.

  “Touristy shit happens there, Kip,” Cory informs.

  “Does the word lost indicate anything? Nothing? I thought it was obvious enough,” Kip brings the palm of his hand to his forehead as though he’s talking to an idiot.

  Ironic, I know.

  The rest of the group takes turns hugging Henley, and I notice Jagger even gets a hug in. She looks so relaxed. I’ve never really seen her this carefree.

  Hen kicks everyone except our band members out.

  “Tell me everything!” she says.

  We spend hours telling her about what we could remember from each city. I recounted the drunken antics of Rhys and Kip, and we had a good laugh. She was particularly interested in how I was handling things and what my perspective was. It was like she wanted to experience these things for the first time all over again and she could do that through me.

  She sits in a chair with her legs curled under her, snacking on room service.

  “So tell me how you’re holding up,” she smiles.

  I really take her in. Her hair is straightened, her makeup brings out her grey eyes, and she’s wearing holy blue jeans and a racer back black tank. She looks comfortable and happy. There’s something so different about her… well I can’t figure out what’s different.