by Lyrica Creed
“Of course! Hi, Scarla.” After flashing a hasty but warm smile, Jenni turned back to Gage. “Everyone’s already here. You’re late, as usual. While you’re here though, I need to grab your siggy.” She passed him a pen and clipboard. “The auto deposit renewal. I put the original there if you want to compare and make sure I’m not putting your money into my secret Swiss bank account.” She waggled her brows.
A door opened from farther down the hall and two men, both with shaved heads and scruffy jaws headed their way. Gage was concentrating on the paperwork and didn’t immediately look up when they slowed to all but a stop in passing.
“The lesbian-hating loser in the flesh.” One of them drawled with a mocking glare at Gage’s profile. “Jenni, keep your distance from that asswipe, baby girl. No respect for your sweet cheeks.”
The change of emotions on the other girl’s face reflected exactly what Scarla herself felt, only Jenni was processing more quickly. Scarla spent several seconds in the stunned phase before moving into rage. In the meantime, the two men chuckled between themselves and carried on with the hateful words.
With the pen poised, Gage stared blankly at the clipboard before lifting his gaze to Jenni. His eyes softened, and a flash of pain glimmered as he took in her reaction. “Dooley, you motherfucker. Apologize to Jenni.”
“You need to apologize to our resident lesbian and to all―” Automatically, her brain tried to block the obnoxious term he used for that particular sexual preference, and the onslaught of ugly words made her queasy. The one Gage had referred to as Dooley went on to say all the things he hoped happened to Gage when he found himself locked up for his crime.
The older gentleman who had welcomed their arrival appeared and attempted to intervene. Another door opened down the hallway and Colt, followed by a few other men spilled into the hallway. At first, she didn’t realize what had happened when Gage doubled over, until he straightened and swung the clipboard until it collided with a thwack against Dooley’s skull. It was then she realized the other guy had thrown a punch first.
The pair ricocheted off the walls, bringing pictures down for several of the longest seconds she had ever experienced before the other men managed to break them up.
It was the fucked up part of the rock and roll world that she remembered. She’d lost count of the fistfights she’d witnessed when her mom dated these same types of losers. The revulsion she felt was trumped by her concern for Gage. Outwardly, he appeared to have come out of the brawl without a scratch. But she knew he’d taken quite a punch to his midsection.
The two were ushered out. Gage dropped to a chair inside the room his band had appeared from. Everyone who hadn’t seen the start of the fight wanted to be filled in, and Jenni provided them with an explanation. It was several minutes before the talk between the guys died down, but Gage had said nothing. He’d nodded when asked if he was all right and drained a water bottle before he finally spoke. “My axe make it out of that alive?”
“It’s in there.” Colt indicated the room beyond a wall of glass.
Gage relocated to the next room and extracted his guitar from its case. Scarla breathed a sigh of relief when after a cursory examination, he began to strum.
Colt and the rest of the band included her in their conversation while Gage lost himself in whatever he was playing.
A man had left the room directly after the fight, and now he returned, settling at the soundboard. She wasn’t introduced, but deduced him to be the producer Gage had mentioned would be at this meeting. He was in a foul mood and laid into Gage for the altercation in the hall.
“Can we just get on with it?” Gage leveled a stare so dark, the other man was unable to hold it.
“This is a thot free zone.” The guy didn’t look up from the soundboard as he spoke.
At first, Scarla was sure she had misunderstood. But Gage’s reaction—and even Colt’s—told her she had heard correctly.
Gage came up out of his chair and Colt moved in as well. Although, penned in by the two men and the equipment, the guy didn’t back down. Nodding her way, he gestured. “That’s your cue to leave, baby doll.”
“You fucking idiot.” Gage raged. “Have I ever brought anyone to the studio? That should be your first clue she’s not just anybody!”
Colt snickered. “Seriously. If you knew who you just dissed, you’d be shitting your pants.”
At this, Gage’s angry gaze washed over his bandmate in a warning, and Colt pressed his lips together, but they remained curled in amusement.
“I don’t care who she is, but fine. She can stay. And I’m sorry I assumed.” His wise but grudging apology had Gage and Colt backing off. She didn’t acknowledge she’d even heard. Despite his dismissive words, the guy continued to flick curious eyes her way through the rest of the session.
The rest of the band eyed her too, and she knew they would be questioning Gage and Colt later about her identity. The more immediate problem though was the asshole’s reaction to the composition Gage had worked on and Colt had been sure was ‘the one.’ The producer shook his head so vigorously and so much, she hoped he would get whiplash. Gage grabbed up the guitar again and played some variations, and their drummer hopped behind the set to change the beat up a bit. But the man declared it a waste of his afternoon and even lobbed the thumb drive into the trash for emphasis. When he began to suggest a publisher to work with, Gage went ballistic.
“That’s what this is really all about isn’t it? Credits on what you know will be a platinum album. You owe someone a favor—or want them to owe you. Well fuck you; no one is riding this gravy train!”
“Word is you may not be riding the train much longer yourself.” The words were a mutter, but distinct enough as the guy swayed cockily in his chair.
“What did you say, motherfucker?”
“I think you know.”
Gage bent, fitting his guitar into its case, snapped it closed, and snatched it up. He made a silent exit. Scarla jumped from her seat and followed, her mind still reeling with everything that had gone down in little more than an hour.
He was quiet and once they were on the freeway, she asked, “You okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks. He’s a dick. I don’t want to talk about it.”
He texted his father and drove a bit until exiting and maneuvering through traffic. The restaurants’ valet parking took the car. Another young man manifested and escorted them away from the main entrance and in through a private door. They made small talk with their host during a quick elevator ride. The metal doors pinged open into a hallway and they were shown into a private dining room. It was an elegant setup. A chandelier hung above a formally set table and a fireplace took up one wall. Another wall was glass and looked down into the main dining area of the restaurant.
They were fixed up with drinks from a galley off to the side. After fussing over them, taking appetizer orders, and offering music, television, or a movie, the server pressed the electronic tablet in his hand and the screen behind the bar came to life with a muted baseball game. The television remote and a server call button was left near Gage and they were left alone.
“So this is how the rock stars dine.” She swirled her wine and watched him sip his water.
“This is how Dad dines,” Gage corrected, but he was enough at ease with the routine for her to be skeptical.
“Can they see up here?” She eyed the hive of activity beyond the glass on the ground floor.
“No. It’s a mirror from that side.”
They didn’t talk much. Mostly he watched the game with his ankle hooked around hers beneath the table. Sometimes his eyes seemed somewhere beyond the television screen, and it wasn’t hard to guess with everything that had happened that afternoon, what was on his mind.
It was at least a half hour before her former stepfather was ushered into the room, and she stood to greet him. He seemed ecstatic to see her, and she felt the same. During the time he had fulfilled the role of paternal parent, she had felt closer
to him than to her own mother.
“You look good, son.”
Father and son embraced in the typical man handshake-slash-hug. They ordered dinner, and after a bit of small talk, she listened quietly as the two men spoke of Gage’s legal difficulties. Both had an identical furrow between their brows. Gage randomly played footsie with her, and she wondered if he was drawing comfort from the contact or if it was an unconscious nervous gesture.
She had taken the last bite of lobster ravioli and had folded her napkin beside her plate when the attention shifted unexpectedly to her.
With a smile of empathy, her former stepfather asked, “Gage tells me you’re going to hide out in Big Sur until the insanity phase is over?”
She looked to Gage, wondering if Big Sur and Arrowhead Woods as he’d recently called his lake cabin destination were one and the same.
“Arrowhead, Dad.”
“Oh. Well, I think it’s a great idea,” his dad replied, and she wondered how many second homes they had between the two of them.
A server appeared, swept away their plates, and another offered a dessert cart for their perusal. To her surprise, Gage accepted a cherry cheesecake slice and she had to bite her tongue to keep from teasing him that the cherry topping wouldn’t get him out of drinking his bedtime cherry drink.
When the three of them were alone again, his father sipped at a cup of coffee. “Listen, I’d like to set you up with my accountants. Arrange a meeting to talk about your situation.”
She had stolen Gage’s fork and shaved a bite from his dessert, but she paused in surprise before putting it to her lips.
“They are some of the best, and that includes brokers on the East Coast. Look at Gage. His financial comforts are sure not due to the music business. It’s all about taking what you have and making sound investments—and having someone who will manage your money as carefully as if it were their own.”
“I do understand that. But Tate and Jones have had it from the first dollar—before it was even mine.” She spoke of the accounting firm that had managed her father’s money, both before and after his death.
Gage’s father’s eyes were almost identical to Gage’s and therefore easy for her to read. The empathy in their dark depths upped a few notches, and suddenly, she understood.
“You told him?” The fork clattered from her fingers as it hit the china plate. Her chest felt heavy with betrayal. After the initial affirmation she found in Gage’s gaze, she swung her eyes to the glass wall. Gathering her thoughts, she took a breath and a sip of the wine the server insisted on topping off each time he came to the table.
“He can help—”
“Because I’m incapable? Because I blew it the first time around? I was a kid. And I didn’t even know about the money until it was gone!”
“Scar…” Gage’s fingers curled gently around her wrist but she snatched her arm away. “You’re about to become a billionaire—”
“You know what I think? I think you’re trying to deflect your dad from your screwed-up shit to my screwed-up shit.” Pulling her leg away from his, she used it to shove her chair back, but before standing, she realized she had nowhere to go. It wasn’t as if she could storm out of the restaurant and call a cab.
Gage didn’t let that issue stop him. Either he was more used to dealing with the back maze of hallways in establishments such as this, or it could be his only objective was to get out. The door closed behind him, and she raised her chin to her former stepfather, feeling somewhat ashamed.
“I’m sorry for the scene. It’s a touchy subject with me.”
“Understandable.”
“I don’t even think I realized how much I resented her until I got away.” Her mother’s face intruded into her thoughts while speaking of her. “I can’t even take her calls anymore.”
“I’m truly sorry. That shouldn’t have happened. It really shouldn’t. At least though there is the trust. Your father was smart to set things up that way. I’m guessing he had some very sound advice, so I know Tate and Jones are good at what they do. But…” He trailed off, possibly realizing he was pushing the matter again. “I realize I’ve blindsided you with this. But once you have time to give it some thought, call me if you want to talk. Okay?”
“Moving the money would probably be a huge undertaking.”
“Not for you. For you it will simply be your signature a dozen or so times.” Gage’s father curved a reassuring smile. “Just think about it.”
“Okay. I will. Thank you.”
He came around and politely held her chair as she stood. “Your mother called me looking for you. She wanted Gage’s number, but I didn’t give it to her.”
“Sorry.” She rolled her eyes, wondering how many times in her life she had apologized for the woman who bore her.
“Did you know she’s in L.A.?”
Her feet seemed to fill with lead, and she froze when it became too much of an effort to take a step. Every spider sense she had told her his next words were about to fuck her world up.
“No. Why? Why would she be here?” And how the hell could she have afforded a flight?
The passport incident clouded her mind—the strange pitch in her mom’s voice when she’d explained why the bag was out of the safe…
Chapter 35
It had been one of those days when the entire world seemed against him. His own body. The withdrawals had battered his body with the force of a jackhammer, waking him around dawn. He remembered from the few times he’d cleaned up before that right when it seemed he was coasting through the detox, he’d have a particularly bad day. Scarlette had mixed an extra ‘witches brew’ and it had helped. Then the shit going down at Noise City. And now, even Scarlette had verbally attacked him.
He splashed his face and thanked the bathroom attendant for the hand towel readily passed his way. Studying his reflection, he patted off the moisture.
For the first time, a weird thought struck him. He wasn’t terrified at being thrown out of the band, or of the band breaking up. As his dad had mentioned to Scar, the band after providing the funding for his investments had ceased to be his main source of income. He was a musician. He could begin another band. Or not. There were a dozen music-related fields he could consider.
For now though, tonight, he had his hobby band. The cover band Metal Feds played once a month at Cappy, a club on Ocean Avenue. Several musicians rotated through the lineup, depending on who was not on tour.
He’d been excited when he’d invited Scar earlier today, but now she was so pissed at him, she might change her mind about going. And that was fine. Whatever. In some respects, she was the smartest, toughest woman he knew. And in some ways, she needed to grow the fuck up.
After dropping some cash into the tip jar, he exited the restroom and found his father and Scar in the hallway. Ignoring Scarlette for the time being, he faced his father who had nodded to one of the hostesses, confirming they were ready to go downstairs. “We’re playing tonight. The cover band. If you want to come by for a bit.”
“Cappy?” When Gage nodded, his old man surprised him by agreeing. “Sure. I’ll be there.”
By the time the valet brought the car around, Gage had been recognized by a few patrons who were arriving, and accordingly, he had smiled for two selfie pics.
Once they were safely inside the Lotus and on their way, Scarlette joked. “You looked like a giant next to that girl.”
“I thought I was going to end up on my knees.” He joked back, recalling how far he’d had to kneel to get into the camera frame with her.
She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry for what I said.”
“Why? It’s true. She was a shrimp.”
“No. In the dining room. I’m such a bitch when I get upset.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m sorry, okay?”
She was sounding hostile again, and he spared a quick glance from the line of taillights in front of him. “Okay. Apology accepted.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He matched her formal tone and then dropped a casual hand on the back of her seat so that her hair tickled his thumb.
Despite her apology, she seemed off at the club. She was quiet and even ordered water, as he had done. He studied her for a moment, before leaving her at the table with his father and going into the back to change clothes.
From the stage, he squinted past the lights and was relieved to find a smile on her face. Because he knew her so well, he worried that anytime now she could snap out of this sweet trance they’d both been living in for the last few days. He was accustomed to her calculating nature, and he was afraid she would soon evaluate this new relationship between them and find it unacceptable for some reason.
If she did, he’d simply win her back over. But the truth was, with much of his life in turmoil, it would be so much easier if he didn’t have to fight for his love life.
The rhythm and performance soon demanded his full attention, and he welcomed letting the music lull all other thoughts away.
During their first set break, his father congratulated him on a great show but said he had to leave. After telling him goodbye and walking him to the door, Gage detoured to the bar before returning to Scar with a water for each of them and a shot of Petrón for her. On Metal Fed nights, the establishment vetted those who came inside during the sets, so that it didn’t become an out of control fan fest. Even so, the bar was always near full capacity before the show was over. At his request, management set up a table with one barstool very near the stage, just off to the side. He settled Scarlette there before hopping back into the limelight for the second half of the show.
He liked being able to see the expressions on her face and soon found himself showing off for her. He ate up the adulation he saw in her eyes. Although she still wasn’t smiling, she seemed to be more relaxed. Since she was now in the spillover from the stage lights, he could see she was drinking a colorful drink garnished with fruit. When she began to sway in her seat, all but dancing without being on her feet, he couldn’t take his eyes from her.