Guitar Face Series Box Set: Books 1-4

by Sasha Marshall

  Won’t you move the sun closer to the rainbow?

  Show me how warm it can be.

  Let me bask in your love,

  So it can wash over me.

  You heal with your love,

  Forever lighting my world from darkness.

  Please don’t move the sun from above.

  Keep it close no matter what?

  I don’t want you to live in the gray anymore,

  Come on, step out here, and I’ll show you how to get to shore.

  Won’t you move the sun closer to the rainbow?

  Show me how warm it can be.

  Let me bask in your love,

  So it can wash over me.

  Chapter 22

  Koi

  The promotional tour ends with no further drama, and we had less than two weeks at home before the tour starts. The tour starts in Atlanta because Georgia is home and we love to both start and end a tour here. I sit in a dressing room in the back with Kip and Cam, waiting to go on stage. We’re ready to play live again, but if I’m honest that isn’t the most exciting thing happening in this venue tonight. After Broken Access plays, I finally get to watch my sister play again with Abandoned Shadow. I’m nervous for her and excited for myself.

  I send both my sister and brother a text wishing them luck. I’ve sent her texts all day long, but she hasn’t responded. I keep check on her through Memphis though. I want to go to her and wrap her in my arms. She must be shaking like a leaf the closer stage time gets. Memphis has asked me to stay away saying Henley is quiet and pensive, but she’s been that way for weeks. I can’t figure out what’s up with her but she’ll come to me when she’s ready.

  ***

  Kip

  After our set, the technicians work like crazy to break down our set and assemble Abandoned Shadow’s in its place. I left the stage to dry off, change shirts, and get a beer. There are probably a hundred people that want to be waiting in the hall that leads to the stage when they emerge from the depths of their dressing room. They’ve been there all fucking evening. No one has seen or heard much from them.

  I’m not sure what’s up with them. Shit is quiet between Henley and me. I don’t want to force her into this with me, so I’m waiting like I always have been. I’m waiting for her to work it out in her head and heart and come to me when she’s ready. In the elevator, I told her I was still waiting, so she knows the ball is in her court.

  It hasn’t been easy by any means. I check my phone a thousand times a day to see if she’s text, but nothing. I won’t force myself on her like Jagger did. I’m not some childhood crush. While I’ve loved her for a long time, she has to be willing to go down this road with me. She has to reconcile herself to the fact that she can either do this with me, or she can’t. I must accept whatever she decides.

  As I make my way towards the stage, the energy feels thicker, the air electric. The crowd is chanting for Abandoned Shadow, but technicians are still working to get the stage set up. As I walk down the long hallway to the stage, it’s already filled with people excited to see her play for the first time is six plus years. Musicians, actors, roadies, family, and friends line the hallway. I finally make it to the hall that is closest to the stage, and hug Derek and Grace who are just as anxious as the rest of us to see her play.

  I hear the cheers before I see her, people leaning from the wall to touch the band members and offer them luck and words of encouragement. I don’t see her until she’s almost to us. Her head is held high as she walks in fuck me heels and a mini black dress. She smiles at us but says nothing as she turns off the hall onto the side of the stage. The entire hallway follows to one side or another of the stage to watch them play. It’s dark on the sides, so roadies have flashlights going while they get them ready to walk on stage. A steady flashlight remains on Henley as she slips on headphones and checks the tuning one last time on her guitar. She’s already lost in the sounds the strings generated when her fingers pluck them.

  The crowd continues to scream as Henley takes her guitar and stands in the place she’ll stay until the house lights go down. They can’t see her but I think they can sense she’s there, that the band is waiting inches away from them. Her eyes stay averted to the floor and her guitar remains slung across her back. Her hands rest in one another as she waits. She waits for go time. I can feel anxiety rolling off her and she battles to quell them. She’s forever at battle.

  The house lights go down and the crowd goes ape shit. Then the venue is pitch black. What seems like an eternity later, I hear the first chord vibrate through the speakers, and then again, and again, and the vibration turns into two guitars with rhythm and melody pouring out. Griffin’s bass line evens the sound out, and then Rhys punches the bass drum. Out of the darkness comes an explosion of sound and light. The lights above them move in every direction and in every color partially drowning them out as the song explodes along with it. The crowd screams and you can see them visibly move forward with force.

  They lengthen the intro to the song, and then she steps up to the mic and sings her fucking heart out. I feel the same energy the crowd does. A hundred people stand on the side of the stage hanging on their every note and word. We watch them move around rocking the fuck out. Goosebumps crawl up and down my body as I watch her move around the stage and play her guitar.

  Koi throws an arm around my shoulders, “The Guitar Goddess is back, my man!”

  I smile because I feel stupid happy about it too. “She was never gone,” I correct.

  Their first show passes entirely too quickly. Two hours wasn’t long enough to watch them on stage.

  It felt like a mere twenty minutes passes when she screams through the mic, “Thank you Atlanta! You’ve been fucking amazing tonight!”

  The band throws out guitar pics and Rhys throws out several sets of sticks. When they walk off stage the crowd amps up the volume, screaming out for one more song, and those of us waiting in the wings are screaming out for one more too.

  She smiles at no one particular as she exits the stage. Jessica and her mom hold up a curtain I assume she’s changing behind. She reemerges from behind it dressed in a racerback black tank, and holy blue jeans with boots on.

  Tears prick my eyes when I see Caleb’s dad hand her Caleb’s acoustic guitar. I don’t think anyone knew he was here. He wraps her in a big hug and squeezes tight. They wipe each other’s tears, and he says something that makes her smile and nod. I don’t see Caleb’s mom, but I do see tears in everyone’s eyes at the bittersweet scene before us. Even big, scary Cory has tears in his eyes. Samantha grabs my hand and when I turn to her, I see the tears that streak her face as she watches on. I let my own tears go because Caleb isn’t here but his dad showed up to keep him alive. I cry because she’s come full circle. A piece of her died that night with him, and I never thought I’d see her on stage again, but here she is. While pieces of her died with Caleb, other parts of her were created and brought to life in the last six years.

  Memphis’ tech hands him an acoustic too and just the two of them walk back to the stage where a stool sits for both. Once she’s seated, she strums the guitar a few times before she raises her mouth to the mic.

  “This crazy life started right here in Georgia,” she says and the crowd screams.

  “For one of us, it ended in Georgia. It took us a long time to make peace with it if you can ever really find peace. This venue was the last place Caleb King played for all of you, and this is the last guitar…,” her voice cracks through the emotion and the entire side of the stage steps forward. I don’t know why they move towards her, but I’m waiting to see if she needs me. Should I run out to stage and sit with her? Comfort her? Should I tell them to kill the lights?

  The crowd goes silent. She takes a moment to collect herself before she speaks again. She doesn’t make eye contact with the crowd when she does.

  “This is the last guitar his fingers ever touched,” she pushes on.

 
; I let out the breath I was holding.

  “He’d tell me to play this song because it says what silence can’t. It was written for a woman, but fuck it I’m singing it anyways. This is for my Apollo.”

  She and Memphis begin playing Patience by Guns N’ Roses. Memphis whistles the introduction spectacularly and eventually joins his guitar with hers. The crowd and both sides of the stage are lit up with lighters and cell phones, but I can’t do anything but listen to her words. Where have I heard Apollo? As if the fucker could read my mind, Cory stands next to me.

  “Her code name for security is Iris and you’re Apollo you dumb bastard,” he smiles.

  She’s singing this song for me, so I listen to her words. She wants to take this slow and wants us to use patience as we explore this crazy shit between us. She’s also telling me we’ve got what it takes to make it and she’s scared of fucking it up. What sticks with me too is that she’s saying she misses me. She’s right, the song says what we can’t say. God, I love her.

  When the song is over the need to go to her overwhelms me, but only Memphis exits the stage. Caleb’s father steps onto the stage with an electric guitar, Caleb’s favorite guitar. She exchanges guitars with him, hugs his neck once again and plugs in.

  “This is for Caleb,” she says and backs away from the mic easing into what will be a long guitar solo.

  We watch as she eases in out of genres of blues and rock, pulling on her guitar as she locks herself inside it. It took her six years to get here, and six years of happiness, grief, pain, and loss filter through her fingers and into the strings of the guitar. Her guitar face changes as the music moves her universe. I watch her, this woman I love, with so much pride. I don’t think I’ve ever been so emotionally moved in my life. Tears continue to pour down our faces as we watch her guitar face, the thing a four year old girl was insistent on perfecting. Isn’t amazing how such a silly child’s notion led to all of this?

  She pours her heart and soul into the guitar because this is her dedication to Caleb, her send off to a guitar god. Half an hour later, she fades into a peaceful melody before she just stops. She unplugs the guitar and walks off the stage, no one prepared for it, no one expecting it. She told her story with her fingers for thirty minutes and when she found her peace with it, wanted to show the peace she’s come to know, the story ended and so did the guitar.

  Koi launches himself out onto the stage first and meets her before she can make it to the side. He picks her up and swings her and Caleb’s guitar around, and seconds later both sides of the stage follow his lead as we pay our last respects to Caleb King, friend, son, and guitar god. There has to be an afterlife because I’m telling you Caleb is here. I feel him around me as if he encompasses the air surrounding us.

  When Koi pulls away from her I see tears stain her own cheeks, and it just about shreds me in half. Caleb’s father embraces her once again, and she hands him the guitar, speaking shortly and he nods. I watch as the people who love her crowd her on the stage, all full of pride. She looks around after she hugs Red’s neck and I wonder if she’s looking for me, so I take a step forward through a few people. Her eyes find me, and I swear the smile on her face lights up the entire venue. She runs towards me, and jumps as she wraps her legs around my waist. I hold onto her for dear life and silently cry into her shoulder. I feel her tears on my neck and know we’re both mourning for the past and what we lost that night six years ago. But we’re also crying for what she could do tonight. She made it, she survived to tell the tale. It wasn’t easy, but nothing worth having ever is.

  She continues to hold onto me tightly, her arms circled around my neck. I rub my hands up and down her back. No one here will think anything suspicious about her being wrapped around me. Henley would’ve done it before what happened at the club and in the elevator. That’s the beautiful thing about it though, what happened in those two instances could never change what we have. If we explore it and it goes nowhere, she’ll still be my best friend. If it works, she’ll still be my best friend.

  “Hey,” I say to her.

  She pulls her face from my neck and looks deeply into my eyes. I wipe her tears and smile, the pride I have in her bursting right through me.

  “You did good, kid,” I say.

  “I smell him,” she whispers knowing only I could ever understand what she means.

  “Me too.”

  “Yeah?” she tilts her head to the side and smiles.

  “Feel him here too, like he’s in the air,” I say.

  She stares at me for a few moments before she replies, “Yeah. Exactly like that. He’s in the air.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m going to get really drunk tonight. You should definitely be involved in the debauchery that will ensue. I mean what fun is trouble without Kip Paxton?”

  “I’m always down. People are waiting to see you, Henley,” I say realizing she’s been stuck to me like glue for a while now.

  “Let them wait.” She buries her face into my neck again and says, “You waited a lot longer.”

  My heart lurches forward in my chest.

  “I wouldn’t mind you sticking to me forever, Hen,” I whisper in her ear. “But you gotta go play rock star for a little longer so we can get to the debauchery portion of the evening.”

  She pulls back from my neck again, smiles, kisses me on the cheek, unwraps her legs from me, and scrambles off to play her role as the Guitar Goddess.

  ***

  The tour hops from city to city. We move from bus, to hotel, to bus, to venue, and back to the bus. We’re scheduled for promotional spots on local radio shows for every city we play, so we’ve been busy and exhausted. I see Henley, I just don’t get to spend any time alone with her. Our friendship continues just as it always has. I watch her on stage each night as mesmerized as the first time I ever saw her play.

  I like to see the chemistry her and Memphis have with each other. She thought she’d never find that again, but she did. They play together as if they’ve been playing with each other for decades. There’s a spiritual connection between them that anyone can see just by watching them play against each other.

  I make sure I spend time curled up with her on the couch before the busses depart from the venue each night and I’m forced to go back to my own bus. Most of the time we’re listening to the guys around us, and unfortunately I can’t stay on the bus because every bus on this tour is packed with people. There’s no room for an extra person on any bus. Cash is on tour so he’s already an extra addition to the roster, but I spend every moment I can with her. I haven’t touched her intimately since the elevator, but I’m still with her and that’s all that matters.

  I’m walking back to my own bus when Samantha approaches me.

  “The director has asked to speak with you about the video next week. Camden said you’ve spoken with him about which direction you’d like to take with it and he thought it was genius. He’ll be calling in a bit, so make sure you answer,” she says.

  “Got it.”

  “MTV wants to do some type of documentary on the video. I asked Henley, and she said it was your song and video, she wouldn’t agree to anything you wouldn’t,” Sam advises.

  “What’s the point?” I ask.

  “Positive publicity for her,” she answers.

  “Then let’s do it.”

  She smiles when she gets the answer she wanted.

  I take the steps up the bus and ask the guys to give me some privacy for a phone call before I head to the back room. I close and lock the door so these idiots won’t fuck with my genius. Pulling out my sketch pad I draw a blonde haired beauty with killer curves and a petite body. I draw her in a sleeveless, long, white dress that plunges to expose a hint of cleavage. A high slit shows a toned leg, and she stands barefoot. Her long eyelashes frame her light eyes, and… shit something is missing.

  Wings. I sketch floor length wings onto her back. The wings are full and… they can’t
be white. She wouldn’t have white wings, but they can’t be black either. I shade them in with a pencil instead of charcoal so it gives them a gray affect, wings with soot. Next I work on another scene. I sketch out each band member behind his respective instrument, or the instruments we play in this song. Many large candelabras drip wax and surround us, lighting up a large loft like area with floor length windows behind us. The angel with soot on her wings dances around us as we play her song with a cigarette in her hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. Her wings touch us as she dances through the room, weaving between us all.

  Scenes continue to play through my head, and I draw the next one with the angel straddling my lap as we sit on the bottom of the window. She puts the whiskey bottle to my lips in this scene while she smiles at me. I finish the drawing the scene when Chauncey Knox calls.

  “Hello,” I mind my manners for once.

  Yes, I have manners. I just would prefer not to use them. It’s much easier to be bad.

  “Kip Paxton?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Chauncey Knox. I wanted to touch base with you on your ideas for the video. Ms. Davenport has stated you have a vision, and I wanted to collaborate,” he says.

  “Great. I spent sometime this evening sketching out scenes. I can email them over in a few if you’d like to see them.”

  “That sounds great. Why don’t I look at them and call you back in the morning?” he asks.

  “Sounds great,” I answer and we disconnect.

  Chapter 23

  Kip

  Chauncey and I speak all week as we collaborate on the video. He’s been cool at incorporating my vision into the video. He has an amazing vision on his own and I honestly can’t wait to see the fruit of our collaboration. He’s a famous director, so I’m excited to meet him in person today. I can’t believe it’s him when he introduces himself. He looks to be in his thirties, but confirms he’s actually in his late forties. He rocks a Deftones shirt, holy jeans, and a ball cap. I hope I look that good in my late forties. He’s cool as shit, too.