Guitar Face Series Box Set: Books 1-4

by Sasha Marshall

  Koi remains in the house for twenty minutes longer after he brings the last of the bags out. When he exits the house, he pulls the door closed behind him and sighs.

  “Tell me she’s okay,” Jagger says.

  “She’s sitting on the edge of her bed staring in space,” Koi answers. “Come on, Kip. You can’t be here, bruh.”

  I follow my friends in my rental car to Jagger’s home. I sit on the front porch and drink the beer Jag hands me while they unload my bags.

  Chapter 27

  Henley

  Six weeks and fifteen shows. There are no weekday shows. To make up for the rescheduling of each show, we only hold weekend concerts. There’s too much down time. There’s too much time to wonder what the fuck is going on with my band. Memphis is acting erratic and…. Well, he’s using meth again. Or at least I suspect he is. When did this happen?

  Griffin is somber and asking me questions about death and the purpose of life. Hell, I’m the last person he should ask questions about the purpose of life. My current view is that you get dealt a shit hand of cards and try your best to bluff the world with the bullshit you’re holding. Still, Griff is withdrawn.

  Rhys was the only one on stage for the first seven shows that seemed like he knew how to play his instrument. Then, he started drinking like an Irishman on holiday. Perhaps it has to do with the knock down drag out fight I broke up with him and Jessica. The night before the eighth show, I heard the moans and grunts of passion coming through the thin hotel wall. I honestly didn’t remember who was rooming next to me, and who am I to break up great sex in the name of sleep? I’d be a hypocrite if I did.

  The headboard hitting the wall finally quieted at around four in the morning and I drifted off to sleep. The profanity and yelling woke me five hours later.

  Mistake. What the fuck? I can’t believe we did this. Mistake. No, it wasn’t. This can’t happen again. Calm the fuck down!

  The words filtered through my wall and the last statement with Rhys’s growl of a voice concerned me, so I went next door to intervene with him and the groupie only to discover Jessica picking up her clothes from around his room and redressing… in yesterday’s clothing.

  “Y’all okay?” I ask as Rhys opens his door.

  “No. She’s flipping the fuck out!” he yells.

  “You didn’t see this shit,” Jessica glares at me as she slips through the door, head down, and feet wobbly, eyes downcast.

  Oh, the walk of shame.

  Rhys has been on bender ever since. My band is falling apart and I’m doing my best to keep them together while I have to strategize every time I leave the bus or my hotel room to avoid Kip. I can’t see him or I’ll break.

  I missed his tattoos. That’s ridiculous I know. Those tattoos encompass so much for me. The way the tattoos on his forearms flex and ripple when he’s fucking me, or the way they look like a canvas when they’re wrapped around me at night. Hell his arms are always wrapped around me and I realize I took his tattoos for granted. I took for granted the body they are attached to. For nine months I pined for him. Even through the white hot anger I took by the horns, I ached for him. Now he’s in the same hotel, the same venue, a bus over, and I can’t have him. He left me for nine months. He left me to fall apart, and he wasn’t there to pick up the pieces and they were his fucking pieces to put back together.

  A music critic visited the ninth, tenth, and eleventh show and let’s just say the review was not favorable for Abandoned Shadow. He picked up on every amateur mistake the men made. He picked up on me trying to hold it all together. He said and I quote, “Perhaps Abandoned Shadow is past their prime.” My first thought was, over my dead body, so I continue to be the glue and it’s still falling apart around me. The empire we built is crumbling with fear of death, anger, drugs, alcohol, one-night stands, and broken hearts.

  I’ve made many attempts to talk to my band mates to no avail. They are so wrapped up in their own fucking misery that my words fall on deaf ears. When the critic published his reviews I presented them as proof, and it was as if I was trying to convert a Muslim to Christianity. Nothing I said mattered, so I took the problems into my own hands.

  I play on my guitar for hours until Tabithia brings in my wardrobe changes for the night. Part of me wants to cry on her shoulder, but I don’t. I won’t drag her into this mess.

  I don’t see my band mates until we meet an hour before the show to go over the set list. I’d already written up a very simple set list with songs that will be extremely difficult for them to fuck up. I don’t know if they’ll pick up on it and quite frankly I don’t give a shit.

  “There are no guitar solos,” Memphis says.

  “No, there isn’t,” I say.

  “You didn’t include a drum solo for the break or a bass solo during the introductions, and you’ve added five acoustic solo songs!” Rhys yells.

  “I made the set list fool proof,” I snarl.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Griffin asks.

  “It means you should take a long look in the mirror at yourselves. When you stop fucking up the songs I wrote because you can’t pull your heads out of your asses for two fucking hours twice a week, then we’ll plan the set lists again as a band,” I say and leave the room.

  “Fuck you, Henley!” Memphis calls out after me.

  “Fucking bitch!” Rhys calls out.

  So be it.

  I met them on the side of the stage ten minutes before it was time to play and none of us exchanged so much as a glance in each other’s direction much less a word. That’s how we played the next three shows.

  One more show to go, and we can regroup both professionally and personally. This tour is a nightmare, and no one wants to be here except the fans. It’s sad. The fans deserve a better show than we’re giving them. We’ve rescheduled the shows almost a year later, and they paid to hear the bands rock the stage. They’re not getting that. Our disdain for one another is becoming noticeable on stage.

  ***

  Henley

  On a Saturday night in Austin, Texas I take a deep breath and wait for the bright lights of the stage to go down, the encore to be played, and the tour to be over. I had nothing else to do today and I don’t care to be around many of the people on this tour. I’m not sure how we all got here. We turned a well-oiled machine into a cluster fuck of epic proportions.

  A knock comes at my dressing room and I roll my eyes not wanting to talk to whoever is on the other side of it.

  “Henley?” Jessie calls out.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hey. We have a radio contestant winner from the contest we sponsored for the local children’s hospital

  “They were guaranteed a song request. They’ve requested you and Kip to sing I’m Still Waiting,” she slightly winces as she delivers the news.

  “The song he wrote for me,” I say.

  “Yes.”

  “Fine. I’ll go talk to him and see if he can do it. Did you get any other songs they’d like to hear if I can’t make this work?” I ask.

  “No. The winner was insistent on this song. I’m sorry,” she frowns.

  “It’s okay. I’ll do it. I just need to rework the set list and talk to Kip to make sure he’ll be on stage when it’s time.”

  I leave my dressing room with Cory and Tabithia in tow.

  ***

  Tabithia

  "Kip!" a woman shouts loudly and full of joy.

  Something odd strikes me about the way she addresses him. He wasn't addressed as Kip Paxton, just Kip. Fans rarely use only their first names. The media never refers to them by only the first name.

  First names imply a level of familiarity. Some fans are cool enough to treat them like people and call them by their first names, but it's rarer than you might think. Even I have to remind myself to only use their first names.

  I turn to see the woman and remember Henley is beside me. But she's already turned, watching t
he blonde bounce to Kip and then jump into his arms where she wraps her legs around his waist.

  Some fans are crazy enough to do this, but she smiles down at him with an expression that says she misses him.

  "Ma'am you need to get off Mr. Paxton," Marques orders.

  "What?" The blonde says and looks confused.

  "Ma'am I need you to get down. Do you have a pass to be back here?" Marques asks her, moving in fully prepared to remove her from Kip.

  "I'm his girlfriend," she says.

  The entire hallway falls silent, but she seems unaware. I grab Henley's hand in mine right before the blonde presses her lips to Kip's. Henley gasps at the same time I do and Cory hand brushes my arm as he wraps his own arm around Hen’s waist.

  Kip breaks the kiss and removes her body from his. She looks up at him with hurt in her eyes. Then she looks at all of us and smiles.

  She grabs Kip by the hand like she's done it a million times before. When Kip spins around in our direction, his expression holds shame and panic.

  The blonde drags Kip to where Joe, Rhys, Koi, and Cam stand.

  "It's so great to finally meet you. Kip has told me so many wonderful things about you all," she greets the men and offers her hand.

  Cam stares at her with confusion and finally sticks his hand out because I don't think he knows what else to do. She's finally able to wrangle the other men into a handshake. She inches down the hallway as we all watch on in terror, panic, and shock.

  She finally comes to our trio with Kip being dragged behind and smiles a radiant smile full of genuine happiness.

  She sticks her hand out to Henley, "Hi. I'm Jasmine. It's nice to meet you."

  Henley doesn't take her hand. Henley stands as still as a statue with her eyes boring into the girl’s head. All eyes are on Kip and the two women, wondering how it will play out. Jasmine leaves her hand out as she looks down at it. She clears her throat and then pastes a smile back on. My eyes only leave Henley’s mask of a face long enough to look at Kip who looks like he might be in actual pain.

  Jasmine drops her hand, rubs it on her pants, looks down at her shoes, and then behind her to realize the group has closed in to get a better view. There's nowhere for her to escape.

  Jasmine looks at me with concern, "Is she okay?"

  She whispers as though Henley isn't standing right in front of her. Hell I don't know what's going through my friend’s brain, but I'm going to assume it isn't good.

  "No," I answer.

  She looks at Kip behind her and then tries again.

  "Hey. I've heard amazing things about you all. I'm Jasmine," the poor girl sticks out her hand again.

  Henley finally moves and if I was a betting woman, it wouldn't have been the first move I would've bet on. Hen’s head slowly moves down the girl’s body with disdain and then slowly moves back up to her face. I'm thinking Jasmine finally catches on that something is not quite right when she drops her hand and swallows.

  Henley calmly removes Cory’s arm from her waist and releases my hand.

  She closes the two steps that remain between her and the girl and gets nose to nose with her.

  When she finally speaks my jaw drops, "Do you know who the fuck I am?"

  Her voice drips with pretentiousness, something I've never heard from her.

  I've worked in this industry a long time, and I've seen the bitch fits divas throw over the wrong coffee order, and men puff their chests out as if you should pay to breathe the same air. I've never heard or seen anything but humbleness from Henley.

  "Yes," the girl squeaks.

  Henley steps closer forcing Jasmine to take a step back.

  "And you think you can just waltz your happy ass onto my tour and stick your hand out like I give a fuck what that sack of shit behind you said about me?"

  "Umm," the girl responds and looks to Kip for help, but he's too busy looking at his shoes.

  "Tell me something, when you Googled his Wikipedia page, who did it tell you he was fucking in the personal life section?"

  The girl swallows hard and breaks eye contact. The first sign I've seen that something isn't right.

  "Henley Hendrix."

  Henley takes another step forcing the girl and our group back.

  "And who the fuck am I?"

  "Henley Hendrix."

  The rock star takes yet another step and then another until she's forced her to release her hold on Kip and has her back against a wall. I look to Cory to keep her from killing the girl, but he simply watches, his body coiled tight, ready to spring into action.

  "When you were with my man, did you kiss him?"

  Jasmines bottom lip quivers, "yes."

  "Did he eat your pussy?"

  "No," she says as Henley gets as close as humanly possible and forces the girl to turn her head.

  "Did you suck my man's big cock?" She asks next.

  "Henley, we need to take this somewhere else," Kip finally speaks up and Jasmine looks somewhat relieved.

  Henley’s voice becomes a roar, "I asked you did you suck my man's cock?!!"

  "You're scaring me," the girl begins to shake.

  "Come on, Hen. This isn't the place for this," Kip pleads but he goes unheard.

  "Do I need to ask again or is it that you don't understand the question? Let me rephrase, Jasmine. Did you put his dick in your mouth and make him come?"

  The girl falls silent, the answer yet to be heard.

  Henley slaps the side of the wall beside her head so loud it echoes in the hallway.

  "Yes!" The girl cries out and the tears begin to streak her pretty face.

  "Whose name did he scream when he nutted in your mouth?"

  The girl doesn't answer so Hen wraps her hand around her throat. She doesn't appear to be choking her, but simply putting her in her place.

  "Yours," she finally answers.

  "Say the name."

  "He called out for you."

  "Did you fuck my man?” Henley asks and her question causes Koi, Jagger, and Cam to step around her.

  I'm sure it's for both women's protection.

  The girl lets out a loud sob, full of fear and pain, but doesn't answer until Hen applies more pressure to her neck.

  "Henley, please stop. Just let her go baby," Kip begs. "I'll tell you everything. This is between me and you."

  Henley roars again, "Did you fuck him?!!"

  "Yes!" She screams back at the scorned woman in front of her.

  "Was he sober?" She asks Jasmine.

  "No," she sobs.

  "Did he use protection?"

  "Yes," she whispers.

  "Did you make him come when he fucked you?"

  "Yes."

  "Whose name did he call out when he came?"

  "Yours."

  "Did you take advantage of him while he was drunk, because I can't imagine what kind of woman comes back for more when he screams out another woman's name while he fucks her mouth. I can't believe he told you shit about me when he left me and said he was coming back home to me! I can't understand how you didn't know exactly what your conniving ass was doing when he came in your mouth and screamed out my name. You knew he was in love with me and yet you still came back with those claws in your pussy and took something that belonged to another fucking woman! A real fucking woman! So answer me, was he intoxicated both times?" Henley growls.

  The girls face finally fills with shame, "Yes. But he was a willing participant."

  Her last sentence comes out as the only defense she has.

  "And he'll be dealt with. You won't leave here today until you sign a nondisclosure statement. Do you understand?"

  Jasmine nods.

  Henley releases her neck and leans back enough to give the girl some breathing room.

  "Jamie. Please call Samantha and have an iron clad non-disclosure sent over. Make sure this slut has the opportunity to call a lawyer, and that it is well documented. Hillary please
sit in on this matter to ensure legalities are covered."

  "On it," Jamie answers.

  "Make sure you sit with Kip to get the specifics of what needs to be covered," she says.

  "I love him," jasmine says and my eyes bulge out of my head.

  Henley laughs in the girls face.

  "Make sure Jasmine has money available for counseling. She's going to need it," she says to Hillary.

  "Got it," Hillary says and sneers at Jasmine.

  "Cory can you ensure the woman makes it back to her home safely?" Henley asks.

  "We'll get it done," he assures her.

  She takes one last long look at the girl, "I'm not sure where in your delusional mind you thought your surprise visit would get you what you wanted, but you made a very bad decision by coming here. See, I know Kip better than he knows himself, and I knew you were full of shit from the moment you referred to yourself as his girlfriend. I don't play games little girl, and I won't allow anyone else to fuck up what I've spent my entire life building. You may have thought you'd find a woman too stupid to see through your BS, but what you found was a bad bitch. One who's seen every ploy and play made at these men. Your play was weak. Be careful that you don't mistake the next woman as ignorant, or you might not live to tell the tale."

  With that she pushes off the wall and walks away from her.

  With Cory and Marques by her side I hear her request blood work on the girl to ensure she's not pregnant and free of disease.

  Joe takes the girl from the wall and heads in the opposite direction causing Kip to snap out it. He rushes toward Henley.

  “Shit! Hen, listen…,” he says from behind us. “Henley! Baby wait up.”

  She speeds up as fast as she can without actually running. She doesn’t want to cause a scene but Kip’s shouting at her is doing the job just fine. The halls are full of fans hopeful to meet their idols and they’re all staring at us, waiting to see what all the fuss is all about.