They walked through the mansion and down the stairs that led to the music studio in the basement. It’s the place where magic happened. Immortal Angel recorded at Falcon Records’ studio, but Prodigy wrote music and recorded their tracks here.
Mason paused on the bottom step to take in the space that held a special place in his heart and housed two decades of memories for him. The area directly in front of him was set up like one big stage. The Tama kit stared back at him, light gleaming off the chrome hardware, saluting him with a greeting. The other side of the floor housed the isolation booth with several million dollars’ worth of recording equipment. Memories played in his head like a movie. He saw himself at 15 beating the hell out of his old Pearl kit, mesmerized by the sounds a 10-year-old Lucas played on his guitar, and astounded by the powerful vocals and heavy baseline produced by an eight-year-old little girl with a personality as big as the room and more determination and stamina than he and Lucas put together. The scene in his head flashed forward to last year when Sindy joined the band as rhythm guitarist, challenging Lucas with her dominant guitar playing and defiant attitude.
He remembered the countless hours of watching and re-watching videos of themselves throughout the years. It had been Tessa’s idea to set up a camera to record what they looked like performing as a band. And she scrutinized every bit of it, never accepting anything less than perfection from everyone, including herself.
“Mase! You finally made it.” His dad briskly walked toward him and gave him a hug similar to the one Tommy Blade just gave him.
Next to greet him was Damien Diamond, Immortal Angel’s bassist. He was the man who taught Tessa to thump out a beat on the bass guitar when she was barely big enough to hold it.
When Mason was a kid, the sky-high blue Mohawk, gory tattoos that ran all the way up to Damien’s chin, and his hard eyes had scared him at first, but he soon found out that it was all a front. The man was a pussycat underneath the tough exterior who loved his wife more than anything in the world.
“S’up?” Damien fist bumped Mason. “Glad to be home?”
“Yeah. But I could do it all over again.”
“I caught some reviews. Great job.” Damian put his fist to his chest. “Watching you kids gets me right here. Makes me wish I had a kid.” A sinister grin stretched across his face. “Almost.”
“There he is!” Angel Garcia, Tommy Blade’s husband, dynamic lead vocalist and famous frontman to Immortal Angel, better known as Papi to Lucas and Tessa, walked toward Mason from the other side of the studio. He didn’t give him a big bear hug or a cool fist bump. Mason received a warm fatherly embrace, genuine pride beaming from this man with a heart of gold. “I’m so relieved that you kids are all home safely. I worried so much about the four of you on the road. Me and Jessi would be up all night trying to figure out which city you were in, which time zone and how you were all handling the non-stop agenda.”
Tommy Blade put his palm across his forehead. “They drove me crazy sitting up in bed, Angel on one side of me and Jessi on the other. I’d be trying to sleep, and they’d be talking across me. One night, I finally had to get up and switch sides. I’m not used to sleeping on the edge of the bed. I sleep in the middle. I rolled over, and I fell clear off the bed, right onto the floor.”
Angel laughed and gave Tommy a kiss on the cheek. “Mi amor, I’m so sorry. You poor bebe. Jessi and I felt so bad.”
Tommy gazed at Angel, a spark igniting as their eyes met. “That’s OK.” He turned to Mason with a wicked smile. “He and Jessi made up for it. Big time. So, I feigned falling off the bed the next night, too.”
Lucas approached from the back room. “I thought I heard your voice.” He gave Mason a one-shoulder hug and a slap on the back. “Are you listening to this incredible new song? Thirty years and our parents are still putting out music. Can you believe it?”
Prodigy sang hard rock, but Immortal Angel’s music was unique in this age of EDM, hip hop, and hardcore rock and roll. They were one of the few old-school punk rock bands left that still topped the charts. Mason listened to the track currently playing on the Bose sound system, his foot already tapping and hand thumping on his thigh. It was fresh and catchy. The fast beats and raunchy lyrics made your body gyrate with movement. There was no standing still when listening to Immortal Angel.
After he listened to a few more songs, Mason left the studio and went upstairs. He wanted to say hello to Aunt Mary. He really missed her these last few months. Once in the great room, he felt slightly out of place for being the only man in this crowd of women, but only for a moment. Jessi, Lucas and Tessa’s mom and the wife of Tommy Blade and Angel Garcia, stood out with her colorful hair and rock star clothes. She came over, kissed both his cheeks and ruffled his hair like he was five years old again. Mason’s mom was standing near the fireplace, smiling at him warmly. The other standout in the room was Alyssa Diamond, Damien’s wife, in her usual head-to-toe black attire.
Then there was Aunt Mary sitting in her wheelchair with her favorite blanket and her hair pulled back into a soft bun, looking at home in the midst of this bunch of trendy rock star wives. She never stayed home, and no one would think about leaving her. She was at every occasion and get together. She was part of the Immortal Angel family.
When Aunt Mary spotted Mason her face became animated and she waved frantically at him, as if she hadn’t just seen him yesterday.
He went to her, took her hands and kissed her cheek. “Hi, Aunt Mary. Are you having a good time?”
She tried to squeeze his hands, but it was little more than shaky pressure. “I always have a good time with these ladies. They make me feel like a girl again.”
“You are still a girl, Aunt Mary. Do you want to get up and dance?”
She laughed and patted his cheek. “You’re so funny, Mason.”
Voices and footsteps brought Tessa and Sindy into the room and Mason stood up straight. Apprehension about what to expect, and what degree of awkwardness would persist between him and Tessa, had his stomach in a knot. He didn’t know how she was going to greet him or react once they made eye contact, but Tessa came in like a breeze and stole center stage. She floated to the center of the room and spun around, arms spread to the sides. “Me and my mom made this yesterday.” She ran her hand over her shoulder. “I picked up the fabric in New Orleans.”
Aunt Mary’s hand went to her cheek. “It’s so beautiful! You’re so talented, Tessa. Isn’t she, Mason?”
He nodded. “Yes. She is.”
Alyssa stepped forward, in all her gothic darkness, and touched the fabric. “This is hot. And it’s my color. Black.”
More voices and footsteps came from the other room and Angel appeared in the doorway. “Dinner is ready.”
As everyone began to exit the room, Mason hung back and waited for Tessa. He needed to clear the air between them. Something happened that needed to be addressed. Something big enough to potentially rock their friendship, and he couldn’t pretend otherwise. “Hey, Tess, hang on a sec.”
She smiled brightly at him, without any hint of unease. “What’s up?”
He waited until the room was empty and it was just the two of them. “I feel really bad about the other night. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think—”
“Don’t feel bad. As far as I’m concerned, it never happened.”
That’s exactly how she was acting, but Mason knew it was her way of dismissing the tension. The odd thing was that Tessa never glossed over anything. She wanted everything out in the open. Exposed. It was the only way to move past a situation. “But it did happen, Tessa. And you were very upset.”
“I’m over it.” She touched his arm and her face grew intensely serious. “I was embarrassed. That’s why I reacted so strongly. I put myself out there. I took a risk, and it backfired.”
The words were like little stab wounds. Icepicks in his chest. He never wanted to hurt Tessa. Anyone but Tessa. “I’m sorry, Tess. Are you OK?
Are we OK?”
“Yes. Thank you. I’m fine and we’re fine.”
Her words were too formal and her gaze too steady. Never wavering. Barely blinking. He knew she couldn’t have recovered so quickly. She had the strength of a warrior and a backbone of steel, but he knew her heart, and it was fragile, kind, and generous.
“Now, let’s go into the dining room. I spent the day cooking with my papi, and he’s waiting for me.” Then she exited the room and left him standing there staring after her.
He didn’t know what else to do, so he followed her, but she didn’t wait for him so they could walk together. Instead, her pace was quick, and she never looked back, as if she didn’t know he was walking 10 feet behind her. When they got to the formal dining room, her stride never slowed, and she went straight to the kitchen.
“I got a seat for ya right here, Mase,” his dad said, patting the chair between him and Aunt Mary.
Mason slipped into the empty seat and Aunt Mary patted his knee. She gave him an apple-cheeked smile and a loving gaze that told him how much she had missed him. After putting his arm around her and giving her a little hug, he got lost in the banter of the large group at the table, until Angel and Tessa emerged from the kitchen, each carrying a platter of food that carried the scent of aromatic spices and savory pork drifting across the room. They each wore novelty aprons, which was a tradition for the father/daughter team. Angel’s said, “Flour Power.” Tessa’s apron had a picture of a black hat, sunglasses and goatee on a white background, ala Walter White of Breaking Bad, accompanied by the words, “Let’s Cook.”
As usual with large gatherings at the Blade-Garcia mansion, wait staff refilled glasses and cleared the table, but the food was always prepared and presented by Angel and Tessa, and there was always a description and sometimes a story that accompanied each dish.
”Pernil relleno!” Angel announced, placing his platter on the table. “That’s a pork roast, marinated in mojo sauce, stuffed with rice and beans.”
“Ajaico!” he said as Tessa set down the tray in her hands.
“It’s a stew with potatoes, pumpkin, pork, corn, fried egg, and a bunch of other stuff,” Tessa explained.
Another quick trip to the kitchen and a second pair of dishes landed on the table. Again, Angel revealed their names and contents. “Vaca frita. Beef marinated in lime and garlic. Ropa vieja. Beef, slow cooked, with tomatoes and onion.”
“Two beef dishes?” Mason sat up straight in his chair. Almost everything served in this house revolved around pork, so beef was a nice surprise.
“Holy cow. Literally.” Mason’s dad added, and they both shared a wide smile that mirrored the other.
“I love the pork dishes you serve,” Mason told Angel and Tessa, “but I’m a steak-and-potatoes kinda guy.”
“I made this one.” Tessa placed a large portion of the vaca frita on Mason’s plate.
He stuffed a forkful into his mouth, not bothering to wait for the rest of the side dishes and breads. Just to taste it. He’d wait for Tessa and Angel to sit down before he really dug in. The beef practically melted on his tongue, and the lime and garlic assaulted his mouth with flavor. “Mmm.” He wrapped an arm around his waist. “This is fantastic. Delicious.”
She thanked him, with a small smile on her face, happy that he enjoyed the dish she made, and returned to the kitchen with Angel to retrieve the accompaniments for the meal. Once everything was on the table, she sat directly across from Mason, and gave him another serving of the vaca frita, the corners of her mouth still turned upward. Guilt flooded him, and he felt like a jerk. Even though she acted as if she was OK, he knew she was only pretending, and it gutted him.
Angel returned and sat at the head of the table, Tommy on his right and Jessi on his left, and the meal commenced. Everyone filled their plates, followed by an array of yummy noises and compliments. They talked and had cross conversations across the table.
Mason watched Tessa, sitting between Sindy and Alyssa, talking about the tour. She began to relay the story about how the stage lights went out in the middle of the last show due to a brief power outage. “With no amps, there was no way to address the crowd or get their attention and maintain control. I tried, but I maxed out my voice after a few minutes. Mason saved the night and probably prevented a riot,” Tessa explained, sending a beaming smile his way. “He started banging on his drums and delivered a spontaneous and jaw-dropping drum solo loud enough to get everyone’s attention. The stage crew gathered around and held their phones on him like a spotlight. It was an incredible thing to witness. The crowd quieted and forgot that there was a power failure. They were totally focused on him. The power came on a few minutes later but the fans didn’t even react. They waited until Mason finished his drum solo and then they went nuts cheering and hollering. It was amazing. He was amazing!”
His quick thinking had staved off a potentially dangerous situation and brought order to an unruly crowd. The manager of the arena had been grateful and personally thanked Mason and offered them front row VIP passes to any show on the card in the next 12 months. Even so, Tessa was laying it on a little thick. Although it was hard to tell if she was playing up the heroics in order to smooth out any leftover uneasiness between them, since she had such an over-the-top vivacious personality. Maybe he was reading into her actions too much and he was the one who was dwelling on everything and making it uncomfortable. But how the hell do you forget about it when someone pours their heart out and tells you they love you?
“I hope everyone is enjoying their meal,” Angel said, quieting the chatter around the table. “My daughter and I have cooked this magnificent feast to celebrate Prodigy’s success.”
“To the next generation of rock stars.” Tommy held up his glass.
Jessi clinked her water goblet against it. “We’re so proud of you kids.”
Mason turned toward Aunt Mary, who was dabbing her eyes behind her glasses, and he touched her shoulder with concern. “What’s wrong, Aunt Mary?”
She wiped her nose with a tissue, which seemed to come from an endless supply, either tucked into her sleeve or in one of her pockets. “I’m just an old lady getting sentimental, that’s all. It seems like just yesterday that you were a small boy barely big enough to sit behind your father’s drums.” She patted his cheek with a frail hand. “That was such a courageous thing you did at the concert. People could have been hurt, and you calmed them with your music.”
“Yeah,” Mason’s dad leaned forward so he could see Aunt Mary. “Because nothing evokes serenity like a Wilder pounding on his drums so hard that the walls shake and the roof threatens to collapse.”
Aunt Mary laughed and waved her balled up tissue at him. “You’re such a character, Jimmy. Always with the jokes.”
When everyone was done with the main course, the wait staff came to life and cleared the many dishes and plates from the table and prepared the little containers of leftovers that Angel insisted everyone take home at the end of the night.
Dessert was a feast in itself. Coffee was poured by the staff, but the sweets were delivered by their makers, just like the meal.
“I hope Tessa made one of her cakes,” Lucas commented. “Papi always makes Cuban and Latin desserts, but there’s nothing like a traditional chocolate cake.”
“I don’t care what it is,” Mason’s dad replied. “Bring it on!” As they waited for Angel and Tessa to bring out the desserts, Mason’s dad thumped a pair of spoons on the table, causing the water to sway in everyone’s glasses. A recognizable beat became apparent, and Mason tilted his head in order to hear it more clearly. He met his father’s gaze and they shared the famous Wilder smile. The pair of spoons at the side of Mason’s dish weren’t his instruments of choice. He preferred the butter knives to serve as makeshift drumsticks, but only one was sitting beside his formal place setting so he stole his dad’s unused butter knife. The edge of the crystal water goblet served as a beautiful percussion. As he crashed the metal utensil on the thic
k-cut glass, a sparkle of sound sprayed from its edge. The heavy handle of the other butter knife against the hardwood table, softened by thick protective padding and a cloth table covering, added a resounding beat, much like his bass drum. Together, he and his dad played the heavy rhythm of Prodigy’s debut single, Driven.
Tessa strolled into the dining room carrying a large round platter with a high cover. Her cheeks widened into a smile at the impromptu rendition of Prodigy’s song performed on the expensive crystal. She rested the dessert on the table and jumped into the chorus with an extra growl in her voice. The peppermill served as a microphone, and the high ceiling provided acoustics which showcased Tessa’s power without the aid of an amp. At the end of the song, Mason finished it off with a double strike to the crystal goblet which rang through the dining room as clear as a bell, and everyone applauded their little performance.
“Maravilloso! Wonderful!” Angel gave them a standing ovation as he clapped heartily. “But you do realize that was Baccarat.” He motioned to the crystal goblet. “You were banging a solid sterling butter knife on a three-hundred-dollar glass.”
Sindy choked on a gulp of water, then carefully removed the glass from her lips with two shaking hands and set it safely on the table.
Lucas gave her a pat on the back. “Don’t worry about it. It’s old.”
A sheepish grin passed over Mason’s lips. “Sorry,” he apologized.
His dad wrapped an arm around Mason’s neck and squeezed a hug onto his shoulder. “When my kid gets a beat in his head, he can’t control himself. Just like his old man!”
Alyssa, who hated the constant drumming, rolled her eyes at Damien. “And to think, I used to complain when we only had one Wilder shaking the house with constant foot tapping and banging on the furniture.”
Damien’s mouth quirked into a tiny smile and he playfully chucked his wife on the chin. “You’re married to a musician. What did you expect?”
She flipped her long black hair off her shoulder and retaliated with a shove against his chest.
MASON WILDER: Radical Rock Stars Next Generation Duet Book 2 Page 6