Clutch

by S. M. West

  Now that I’m home, I can’t hide anymore. I need to settle things with the band before I can move on.

  Seeking out Pansy, I find her on the deck doing yoga. Seeing her sexy body stretched, flexed, and fluid makes me hard. Her long auburn hair is a wild mass on the top of her head, her skin glowing from the exercise.

  She doesn’t realize it, but even in her current state of change, while she tries to figure out her life, she’s centered and peaceful. Way more together than I feel. It calms me, fills me with a warmth I haven’t felt in a long time, to just be near her. I silently admire her form as she finishes her final pose.

  “Good morning,” she says, her voice breathy.

  Her bright smile and the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen nail me, slowing my heart rate and speeding it up all at the same time. Her smile shouldn’t be so disarming. Something so simple, yet rewarding.

  Save for Lucia and Jorge, it’s unusual for anyone to genuinely be happy to see me. Sure, many praise and fawn over me, but it’s not real. This is real. This beautiful woman with happiness shimmering in the depths of her eyes has no clue of the gift she’s just given me.

  “Hi, I see you’ve accomplished a lot already.” I gesture to the mat she’s rolling.

  As she walks past me, she dabs the towel to her damp chest, her mat tucked under her arm.

  “Yes, I couldn’t stay in bed with the ocean just outside my door. I walked Boy this morning before yoga. It was amazing. Now I’m smelly and sticky. I need a shower and breakfast.” I follow her inside and close the glass door behind us. “I need to start looking for a job, and there are a few places for rent that I’ve found on Craigslist.”

  Her tablet sits on the table, and I swallow my words of protest. “Okay, I can help.” Awkwardly rubbing the nape of my neck, I try to find the courage to make my request, knowing it’s weird, and if I’m honest, selfish. “Ah, I’ve got a favor to ask.”

  “Shoot.”

  She pulls clothes from the drawers, and there’s a strange fluttering in my gut. Her things are in my drawers, and I fucking like it. At first, I wasn’t sure if bringing her to my home was a good idea. Only a handful of people, those closest to me, have ever stepped foot in my house. This is my sanctuary.

  But when showing her around last night, I wanted her here. I wanted her to like my home. It’s been years since I’ve given a fuck what anyone thinks. And now, with her unpacked as if she may be staying a while, I feel like I’ve won the lottery.

  “Um, I gotta go meet with the band to talk through my exit strategy, and I’d like you to come with me.”

  “What? Why?” she asks, and my lips mash into a firm line, realizing I may need to persuade her. “Sorry; I mean, I’ll come with you, but why do you want me there? I don’t know them, and I’m not sure what I can do.”

  “I could use the moral support. We haven’t talked since the road, and my manager says they’re still angry. I could just walk, but that could make things ugly, and they could drag me through the courts, which I’d rather avoid. We need to hash this out, and I’d feel better if you were there.”

  Understanding dawns in her eyes. “Of course. Let me get ready, and then we can go.”

  “Thank you, I really appreciate it.” With a nod, I leave her to dress.

  Once breakfast is done, we’re on the road to LA. We are meeting on supposedly “neutral territory,” although I’m not sure how my manager’s office is neutral when she has a vested interest in me staying with the band.

  As the elevator doors open, Bianca, my manager, is there, waiting.

  “Silas.” Bianca leans in for a kiss on the cheek, but not before giving Pansy the once-over. “And who is this?”

  “B, this is Pansy. Pansy, my manager, Bianca Ramirez.”

  “Hi, nice to meet you.” They shake hands with tight smiles.

  “Silas, this is business, why would you bring a friend? No offense.” She briefly glances at Pansy. “She’s not going in with you.”

  We follow her down a hall. “Bianca.” My voice is cold, and I’m aware that I need to keep calm. “I asked her to come, and she’s staying. She’ll wait outside the room.”

  “Fine.” She flips her long dark hair over her shoulder and crosses her arms.

  Bianca can be a ballbreaker, that’s one of the reasons she’s such a great manager, but I don’t appreciate it right now, especially as it’s directed at Pansy.

  “Bianca,” I grind out, ready to lose my shit, but Pansy places her hand on my arm and gives me a gentle rub.

  “Silas, I’m good. Go on in, and good luck.” She gives me another one of her blinding smiles and my anger begins to fade.

  With my hand on her hip, I bring her close, planting a quick kiss on her cheek, and she squeezes my bicep. Her cheeks are coated with a tinge of pink. Bright and fresh.

  Bianca clears her throat, spinning on her heel before prancing into the conference room. She expects me to follow, and as much as I’d like to put her in her place by not obeying, I want to get this over with.

  Glancing over my shoulder, my gaze lands on Pansy sitting on the couch. She pulls the tablet out of her bag and places it on her lap. She’s continuing her search for a job and apartment while I’m in the meeting.

  I enter the room, all heads swivel in my direction. Jared, Eli, and Gray sit around the large mahogany table.

  “About fucking time,” Jared angrily spits out.

  Obviously, our time apart hasn’t helped to calm him. Next to me, he’s a hothead and unpredictable. We used to be tight -- in fact, we started the band together -- and I’ve known him the longest. But he’s changed, and I suppose so have I. Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll, possibly in that order, are all he cares about.

  “Jared.” Bianca’s voice is tight. “We talked about keeping this civil. Don’t start or else you leave.”

  As much as I didn’t like the way she treated Pansy, Bianca’s exactly what the band needs. Some days, it’s like herding cats, with each of us wanting different things, and other days, it’s like refereeing a WWE match. She has the determination and attitude to keep us in line.

  “Hey, Si,” Eli greets me, lifting a few fingers in a wave.

  As usual, he acts like Jared isn’t even there, not having time for Jared’s outbursts. Eli’s the most mature of us all; he has to be since he’s a single parent to an adorable four-year-old daughter, Crystal.

  He got a groupie, Melanie, pregnant, and even though he soon discovered she was a junkie, he did the stand-up thing. He stuck by her through the pregnancy, got her clean, and made a conscious effort to be a father.

  Melanie stayed clean for her pregnancy, but not even six months after giving birth, she started using again. She died two years ago of a drug overdose. Now Eli’s priority is his little girl, and he doesn’t have time for band drama.

  Gray dips his chin but remains silent. He’s the youngest and newest, and also the silent type. But when he does speak, it’s usually spot on.

  Our original drummer, Rich, left nearly five years ago now. At the time, he had a difficult choice to make: his love of music or his life. He had to get clean if he was going to live to see another day.

  Now more than ever, I can relate to Rich. While my choice isn’t life or death, it’s for my well-being. I love music; it’ll always be part of my life. I love nothing more than getting lost in words, creating a piece of music, but the band and fame are no longer what I want.

  “Hey, guys, I just want to hash this out and come to an agreement that’ll work for all of us.” I pull a chair out and sit. Jared leans in, his dark, angry eyes intent on me.

  “Fuck that shit. You don’t give a fuck what we want.” He runs a hand through his long black hair. “This is all I’ve ever wanted, and you fucking know that. You used to want it too, now what the fuck, man? You don’t give a shit about us?”

  “Jared, let him speak.” Eli is calm; he’s had time to think about what I said. I may be jumping the gun, but he might even see my point of vi
ew.

  “Yeah, man, let him talk.” Gray’s cheeks redden to almost the same color as his hair. He usually goes with the flow, but when he speaks, we listen.

  “Like I said the other night, music is in my blood.” I start with our common bond, our love of the words, the tunes. “I’ll never stop writing and playing, but this life – the tours, groupies, media…” I release a long exhale. “It’s no longer what I want. I can’t do one more tour, one more interview. I’m tapped out. What do I need to do to get out in the best way possible? In a way that we can part as friends, and my departure doesn’t hurt your future success?”

  Jared starts spewing his hateful garbage about how selfish I am, and there’s nothing I can do, while Bianca and Eli interject and try to shut him up. It’s going to be a long afternoon.

  Three hours later, after several shouting matches, a tossed water bottle aimed at me and endless cups of coffee, we reach an agreement. I’m not wild about it, but it’s the best option to get out of this quietly, quickly, and hopefully, amicably. Although I’ve no doubt, it won’t be easy.

  The conference door flies open, and a six-foot-three tattooed beast with wild dark hair and leather pants charges out. Startled, I almost drop my tablet, but manage to catch it on a gasp.

  Stopping, he pivots in my direction; his dark, intense eyes narrow, his jaw ticks and he balls his fists. Ice chills my spine.

  “Who are you?” The question would be innocent if not for his menacing tone.

  “Pansy,” I whisper, forgetting my voice.

  “Who are you waiting for?”

  “Silas.” One-word answers are all I can muster with my heart jackhammering against my ribcage and echoing in my eardrums.

  Then recognition hits me. It’s Jared Grange, Trojan’s bassist and the other rock god women throw their panties at. Like Silas, I’ve certainly appreciated his beauty, but I’ve never given him a second thought until now.

  Now I’m scared shitless, and I don’t know why. Well, that’s not true, I do. He’s intimidating, the anger rolling off him hot enough to start a fire.

  “Why?”

  Finding my voice and my nerve, I sit up straight and square my shoulders. “What’s with the twenty questions?”

  The sides of his lips twitch in amusement as two other guys and Silas exit the conference room. I recognize them as the other members of Trojan. The guys stop to gauge the situation, glancing from Jared to me and back again. Jared turns his gaze from me to Silas and laughs.

  “Fuck, now I get it. This is all about pussy, isn’t it? Where’d you find her?” He jerks his thumb in my direction and Silas growls.

  “Her name is Pansy.” Silas inches closer, his voice clipped.

  Bianca quickly assesses the situation, and before I can blink, she’s in between them with her long, black-manicured fingers splayed on each of their chests.

  “Down, boys.” She nudges Jared back a foot or two while giving him a sharp glare.

  “It’s Pantie or Pussy or whatever the fuck her name is.” His tone is nasty as he gestures to me again. “She’s the reason he wants out. Where the fuck did you meet her and why this one?”

  Every single word out of his mouth is toxic and makes me ill. He’s talking about me as if I’m not even there and he thinks that I’m not worthy. Fuck him.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Silas shouts, pushing past Bianca. She stumbles back, allowing him to close the distance from Jared.

  I jump from my seat, but I’m not quick enough, and neither is anyone else. Silas grips the neck of Jared’s shirt and slams him against the wall. Jared’s laughing, taunting Silas. His dark eyes are glassy, and it’s then I realize that he must be high and he’s enjoying the fact that he’s pushed his friend to the edge.

  Bianca rushes between the men and Silas gives a bit, allowing her to push between them.

  “Stay the fuck away from her,” Silas says, his teeth bared and his top lip tight, almost white.

  Now at Silas’s side, I clasp the sides of his face and turn him to face me. Having been on the receiving end of Silas’s wrath, I can see he’s barely hanging on, one of his anger meltdowns approaching.

  While I’m not a fan of his eruptions, I’m not scared of him. He’s had many opportunities to physically hurt me and even in his rage he hasn’t.

  “Silas,” I soothe, rubbing my fingers along his cheeks. “It’s okay. He’s not worth it.” Whether it’s my voice or my presence, something gets through to him. His gaze shifts to me and softens, despite his clenched jaw and fists.

  Releasing and pushing off Jared, Silas pulls us away. “Are you okay?” He caresses the side of my neck, and I shiver.

  Nodding, I steer him to the couch, even farther away from Jared, who’s watching with avid interest. I don’t know why he hates me and why he’s concluded that I’m the reason for the band’s breakup. Silas came to that decision before he’d even met me. But either way, unease coils in my gut at feeling like an animal in a predator’s snare.

  “Silas, call me when you’re done with her, I want to give her a go. I bet her poontang sure is sweet. I can almost taste it.” Jared winks at me, his tongue snaking out like he’s licking me. “I’ll see you soon, darlin’.”

  “You motherfucker, I’m gonna kill you!” Silas lunges for him, and I wrap myself around his arm.

  “Jared, enough!” Bianca shouts, her beautiful features twisting into outrage and something else. Hurt?

  It takes Bianca, both guys, and me to hold Silas back as Jared saunters away, his wicked chuckle echoing down the corridor.

  “I’m sorry for that asshole,” the brown-haired guy says as he releases his hold on Silas and turns to me.

  “I’ll go talk to him,” Bianca mutters, giving me a tight smile before heading after the jerk.

  I’m speechless. I want to both cry and kick Jared’s ass, and it doesn’t help that Silas is wound tight and furious.

  “He’s an asshole,” I confirm, and the clean-cut, brown-haired man grins in response.

  “Hi, I’m Eli Lansing.” He extends his hand, and the red-haired guy follows suit and offers his hand.

  “Hi, I’m Grayson Bennett, but call me Gray.” His blue eyes shimmer while he shakes my hand, but it’s brief. He drops my hand and quickly averts his gaze as if he’s shy or anxious.

  “Hi, Pansy Dobson. Pleased to meet you,” I lie, not about meeting them, but there’s been nothing nice about this whole encounter.

  “Fuck, Pansy, I’m sorry. Had I known he was going to be a colossal dick, I’d never have asked you to come.” Silas scrubs his hand down his face before pulling me to his side.

  While I’m comforted by the gesture, I’m also uncomfortable because it’s intimate and I’ve no clue what we are to each other. We’re acquaintances, maybe even friends, but that’s it at this point. He’s acting like I’m more and I’m unsure as to how to feel about that, especially since Jared just accused me of breaking them up.

  “It’s fine.” My voice is dismissive. I just want to forget about it.

  “Silas, get Otto to do up the papers and send them to me as soon as possible,” Bianca cuts in, all business.

  None of us saw her return, but all the guys are now gawking at her as if she has three heads. She really is stunning with her olive skin, dark brown eyes, full lips, and high cheekbones, and when you think hourglass figure, I’m pretty sure Bianca is the poster child. But even with all her beauty, she looks indifferent, almost cold.

  “Easy, B,” Eli cautions. “He’ll get it done. You can back off for the day.”

  Silas’s eyes widen; his jaw slackens and shoulders relax at Eli’s defense of him.

  “Did you find him?” Gray asks Bianca.

  “No, I gave up. Let him cool off,” she says, exasperated, although there’s almost a pained tinge to her words.

  Eli claps Silas on the shoulder and says goodbye to both of us, taking Gray and Bianca with him.

  “Can we get out of here?” I ask once they’re gone.

>   Silas nods, and the walk to the car is silent. I can almost hear the wheels turning in his head as he mulls over what’s on his mind. I wait until we’re in the car and on our way to his house to ask.

  “So, how’d it go?”

  “Not as I’d hoped, but better than expected.” He fiddles with the satellite radio before continuing. “They want one more album and an LA concert for our final farewell. With that, they’ll let me walk away with what’s rightfully mine.”

  “That sounds fair.”

  “Yeah, it is. Although when we do an album, it’s intense. Long hours, little to no sleep for days. But I can do it.” He’s trying to convince himself.

  “Well, let’s look at the bright side, there’s an end in sight. Will they find another lead singer?”

  He laughs, but it’s not light, more sardonic. “That’s the thing. Eli and Gray are considering other things too. It might be the end of Trojan.”

  “What? Why did they leave you on the side of the road if they were thinking the same thing?”

  “I think I scared them. It forced them to consider other things. Eli has a daughter, and he wants to spend more time with her, and Gray, I’m not sure where his head’s at, but he’s got something in mind. But when Jared lost it, they just followed suit. He can be domineering and intimidating.”

  “You think?”

  Silas chuckles at my sarcasm. “Yeah. I get why it went down the way it did. I could’ve handled it better.”

  “And Jared, he’s the only one who wants to keep going?” I don’t know why I’m asking about that asshole. I don’t care what he wants.

  “Jared doesn’t know what he wants. He likes the pussy, drugs, and parties. I used to be him, so I understand that he’s not there yet.” My stomach sours and my heart twinges at Silas comparing himself to that jackass. “The problem is that he’s high more times than not and I’m not sure if he’s even in it for the music anymore.”

  His tone is solemn, darkness blanketing a starry sky. He cares about them, even Jared -- perhaps especially Jared. While he wants out, it must be sad to have something you created come to an end.