The Rebellion

by S. L. Scott

  Heading to the guest bedroom, I find the guitar where my mom hid it for me. I double-check that the scratches are gone and strum a few times to tune it again. I want it to be perfect, like her. Something about this guitar—it’s resilient, like her . . .

  “Come on, Tank,” I haggle. “You know this is for Jaymes. It’s something good when she’s been through so much bad. Cut me a deal.”

  “This might have worked on me once when you were a scrawny-ass punk, but now you’re a freaking man. No deals today.”

  “That’s a lie. I was never scrawny.” I slap five big bills down on the counter. “She’s worth it.”

  He shakes my hand. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you. And take my advice, learn to play the drums. Chicks dig it.”

  “I think I’m doing all right in that department.”

  “You’ve made us proud, man.”

  He hands me the guitar just as some teenager walks in. “Oh man, you sold it, Tank? I got the two hundred you wanted and everything.”

  I send darts with my glare to Tank. “You overcharged me?” Covering my heart, I say, “I thought you loved me, man.”

  “I do. I just love a sucker and his money. Deal’s done, sucker.”

  Laughing, I look back to the kid, and then behind the pawnshop counter at the last guitar hanging there. “It’s not acoustic like this one, but it’s a nice electric.”

  “That’s three hundred. I can’t afford that one. It took me two months to save up for this one.”

  “Solid fretboard from what I can see. You play?”

  “I play. You?”

  “Dabble.” Tank chuckles. I add, “What’s your favorite band?”

  “Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. He’s the best.”

  Smiling, I say, “Get ’im the guitar, Tank. On me.”

  “No way!” The kid runs to the counter with his hands out as Tank passes it over. “No freaking way.” Looking at me with his mouth open, he says, “Thanks. This is the best gift ever. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Just keep playing and don’t ever let anyone stop you from dreaming.”

  “I won’t. Thanks, mister.”

  The music softly playing in the background is familiar. It’s a song I play every time I play live. “Hey, turn it up, Tank,” I say, walking to the door. He obliges with a knowing nod.

  I overhear the kid say, “That band sucks,” and laugh while pushing through the door. Shrugging, I know—can’t please everyone.

  . . . I cover Jaymes’s eyes hoping to please her. We walk forward until she’s positioned right where I want her. When I remove my hands, her mouth drops open and she runs to Ace. “Oh my God. How did you get this?” She immediately puts the strap over her head and starts to strum as if it’s second nature. “Ace? Where did this come from?”

  “Daddy.”

  Everyone turns toward me. Yup, they know I’m Ace’s dad, but this just might be the first time they’ve witnessed him calling me one of the two best names in the world—Daddy and husband. Rebel can fuck right off. Although, even that name has been tempered a bit. It’s a remnant of a past life, but one that led me here. My own personal rebellion that turned into a transformation. So maybe it doesn’t need to fuck off. Maybe I just need to see how it fits into my life now.

  Jaymes comes to me. “How did you find it?”

  “I went to the most obvious place. Tank’s Pawnshop.”

  Her smile is prettier than blue skies and sunshine, and better than a stadium full of screaming fans any day. Okay, not better, okay, yes, better. For sure better. I do miss the chant of my name sometimes. Maybe she’ll do it for me later. “Thank you.” With the guitar between us, I bend down and kiss her. “I didn’t get you a wedding gift.”

  “Are you kidding me? You made me a dad. Best gift ever. Hey Ace, c’mere.” Ace runs over and I lift him up into my arms. “I got you something too, buddy.” The troublesome twosome and mischievous matchmakers themselves, the grandmas, come outside carrying a big box. It’s wiggling and eventually barks and pushes the open flap back and pops it’s head up. Ace screams, “A puppy.”

  The kid’s got some vocals. Maybe we should get him singing lessons. Beats drums. The golden lab puppy was too cute to pass up outside of the grocery store, crying in that box to get out. They had five in the litter and we got the last one. He was the runt, but I don’t see it. He’s a big puppy. “What should we name him, buddy?” Ace is on the ground with the dog, who is currently licking the crumbs from his face.

  Ace looks up as if he’s known the answer his whole life. “Rebel, like your back.”

  My brow furrows as I process what he just said. I glance to Jaymes who’s about to tell him to pick something else, but I stop her. I wasn’t exactly thinking this was how the name would fit into our lives, but the more I think about it, the more I like it. “I think that’s a great name, son.”

  Ace smiles, and then pets Rebel.

  Jaymes leans on my shoulder, and says, “Well, that’s one way to turn it into something good.”

  Something good. A stupid tattoo doesn’t define me. It came close, but it’s not me. I’m the dad in the pickup line on the mornings when my wife stays up studying too late. I’m the guy who now buys tampons because my wife promised me sexual favors in return. I’d do it anyway, but I’m not going to say no to sex with my wife. Have you seen her?

  Damn luckiest guy in the world. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and hold her to me. She whispers, “How do you like being a dad?”

  “It’s the best.” Kaz hands me a beer and we tap our bottles together and drink.

  Jaymes asks, “How do you feel about two?”

  Two minutes later I’m still cleaning the beer I spewed on Kaz and Lara. “I’m sorry,” I say, laughing.

  Jaymes is laughing harder. I toss them a roll of paper towels and turn to take my wife off to the side. Once we’re alone, I ask, “Are you pregnant?”

  “I am.”

  Sweet pink cheeks, bright green eyes. My heart skips a beat just looking at her. Grabbing her into my arms, I hold her. The guitar on her back makes it a little awkward, but we manage. “I thought I was lucky before, but you just topped that.”

  “I was thinking you might want to name the baby.”

  “Oh man, too bad Rebel is taken by the dog.”

  “Your sarcasm is duly noted.”

  Laughing, I reply, “Good to know.” With my arm around my wife, we start walking back toward the other guests. “So how do you feel about Spade?”

  “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

  “In all seriousness, I think we should wait to see what the baby looks like.”

  She stops in her tracks. “Then they’d all be named Winston or Maude.”

  “I think we’ve got time.”

  “We do have time on our side.”

  Before we get too far into the party again, Rochelle pulls us aside. “How does your schedule look next week for lunch?”

  I cross my arms over my chest and shrug. “Good.”

  “I meant Jaymes. I want to go over the contract for the song and do a test recording.”

  “Wow, it’s moving fast.”

  “The guys are off to Australia in a few weeks. If we’re incorporating the song, we’ve got to get the legal stuff handled.”

  Jaymes looks to me. “It’s your song. What do you think?”

  “It’s your song. It was a gift for your birthday. Anyway, it was always written for you to sing. I’ve seen the contract. It’s a good deal.”

  Turning back to Rochelle, she says, “Tuesday works.”

  They hug and Rochelle says, “Get ready for the time of your life.”

  “Wait, it’s only one song, right?”

  She shrugs. “Guess we’ll see.”

  Later, we leave a party of guests who were yo-yoing for prizes, but I had to steal my family away. I have more up my sleeve and it’s late afternoon. I watch the sky turn from blue to orange then pinks and yellows as I drive. Ace says, “It
looks like the sky is on fire,” right before he’s giggling from puppy kisses.

  The setting sun is getting lower and radiates beauty from its core. Reaching over, I hold Jaymes’s hand, never happier than this moment right here. She asks, “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  She does soon enough, and a smile rivaling the sun shines, and she gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “I haven’t been here in years. Not since I was here with you. Is that why you bought this truck from Jose?”

  “I needed a truck bed.”

  Our hands rest in Ace’s lap, who’s situated between us on the bench seat, and he couldn’t be more pleased. The puppy sticks his head out the window and my raven-haired beauty smiles into the wind. I park in our old spot and we pile out. In the back, I take off the tarp and straighten the pillows. Chase and Jaymes are chasing the puppy. I bring out her guitar and set it next to mine before I climb up. Ace runs in the grassy area while Jaymes leans against the side of the truck. She’s smiling when she says, “We could be arrested for trespassing.”

  Hopping down over the side, I land next to her. After a swift kiss, I waggle my eyebrows. “That’s what makes coming up to the Observatory fun.” I paid the guard off last night when I said I was going out for ice cream. I brought her three flavors home and she never asked why I was gone so long. Trust is good like that, or maybe she’s onto me. Either way, it worked out.

  I lift her up into the back of the truck and then chase the puppy and then Ace until he lets me catch him and set him up there too. I hop back up and take my guitar in hand. Ace has a kid’s guitar now and is getting pretty decent. For a five-year-old. By fifteen, those wrong chords aren’t gonna fly in our house. I start to rethink my stance on that as I strum. I’d rather him play guitar than drums though, so I guess I need to learn patience. He’ll get there one way or another, just like his dad. I’m just glad he doesn’t have to spend fifteen years fighting his way out like I did. He’s slept soundly through the night since we told him the mean man died and that he’ll never come around again. He’ll never have to be scared again, especially not with me around. I’ll always protect my family.

  Rebel settles down on one of the pillows and the three of us play a song together. Eventually, Jaymes cuddles with Ace and they watch me play another. When I finish, Jaymes says, “I notice when you’re home for more than a few weeks, you start missing the stage and the fans. Your name being screamed—”

  “And the pulse,” I add. “But I miss you guys more when I’m away.”

  “We can’t chant your name here or we might get caught, but know we’re always cheering for you, even when you can’t hear us.”

  She looks to Ace and it seems they are in on a plan together. With their hands fisted, they start whisper chanting, “Derrick. Daddy. Derrick. Daddy.”

  I have to admit, this beats any concert I’ve ever played.

  Best fans ever.

  Lying down, I rest my head on her lap next to Ace who is sprawled out the other way. We don’t get many clear nights here, but tonight, as if it heard my wish, we can see beyond the universe. I’m about to point out the constellations, but when her fingers run mindlessly through my hair, she whispers, “Derrick and Jaymes.”

  “Forever destined to be together.”

  Epilogue

  Derrick

  The night sky is overcast. Bummer. It’s not raining, so whatever. I can still work with this weather. Our fingers are intertwined, but I was idly spinning her ring around her finger moments earlier. I love seeing that band on her hand.

  Jaymes Anne-Marie Masters.

  I’ll never tire of seeing that name on documents or hearing it spoken. We’ve not been married but six months, but it’s been the best six months of my life. The band traveled Europe over the summer. She, Ace, and I had a blast exploring the cities during the day. Our nights were completely our own or booked with concerts. She opened our shows by performing three songs live. One song was ours that we performed together acoustically. A song written when I was seventeen and in love with a raven-haired girl with tranquility found in her eyes that settled the raging waters of my soul. The other two songs were all her. Written by and sung by her, sitting on a stool in the middle of a big stage.

  She’s the bravest soul I know. Not because she has no fear in performing solo, but because she has no fear when it comes to things and people she loves.

  Her wounds healed, leaving a small scar up near her eyebrow. I tell her it makes her look tough. She says being tough makes her tired. I think it’s the baby. Reaching over, I rub my hand over her round belly. A little fist or hand follows mine and I smile. Jaymes says, “You woke her up.”

  “I only touched your belly.”

  “She’s already a daddy’s girl.”

  Chuckling, I rub again. “Could be a boy. I think that’s a fist I feel.”

  “It’s probably a heel. And since we don’t know if it’s a girl or boy, I’m going with it’s a she. I need to combat some of the testosterone in our home.”

  Home.

  She’s my home. Ace is my home. This baby is my home.

  Family.

  It was the missing link to happiness. Who knew? I somehow knew it wasn’t the bevy of one-night stands that slipped out the next morning. To think Jaymes was in the same city, her soul waiting for mine to return . . . I wish I would have seen things clearer, seen through the lies she told to protect me, sooner. It took a lot of living for me to discover what I’d been searching for was here all along. I know it now. I see her and that amazing heart of hers at work, at play, at love, at life every day. It took us going through hell to find our own heaven. Now that we’re here, I’m never leaving.

  A guard meets us when we arrive. We’re let on to the private property and I pull into the lot to park. She knows. There’s no hiding the surprise now.

  “The Hollywood Bowl? What are we doing here?”

  Getting out of the car, I say, “You’ll see.” When I come around, I help her out. I grab our guitars from the back of the car and watch her smile grow. “I know.”

  “I know you know. You never forget anything.”

  “That’s not true. I just remember the best of things.”

  Walking with a guitar in each hand, I ask, “How do you feel about playing a few songs with me?”

  Her arm wraps around mine and she rests her head on my bicep. I pop it, flexing so she thinks I’m still as sexy as she did when we reunited. I’ve gotten a little mushy since she got pregnant. Ice cream. I’ve never eaten so much as I have in the last six months. Mushy by my standards. I’ll add two more days back into the current workout schedule.

  The side door is opened for us and I thank the manager for making this happen. We’re led to the stage and look out. The moment is quiet, the feeling mutual and overwhelming—so much has gotten us to this point. When your dream comes true, it’s good to take some time to appreciate the journey and savor the reward.

  I set the guitars down and get two chairs off to the side for us as my words come echoing back. “I’m going to play that stage one day. Just you wait, baby.” I set one down for her, and kiss the top of her head when she sits. “You, my songbird, are going to sing for the world.”

  “I was right.”

  Her eyes flick to mine, her lips swept up in a smile. “You’ve sung for the world. Just like you were born to do.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  This time, I look her way. With my guitar across my lap, I say, “That’s highly unlikely.”

  “I wasn’t born to sing. I was born to love you, to make babies with you, to live a happy life with my family.”

  My smile comes, just like it always does for her. “Are you happy?”

  “The happiest.” She glances out at the empty seats, and says, “Not even eight years later and here we are. Your dreams were big enough for the both of us and carried us here.”

  Spinning my ring around, the engraved ace symbol comes to the top. “I
used to think my dream was to play this stage, but now that I’m here, I realize my dream already came true the day I got busted behind the gym smoking.”

  “You’re always so charming. Keep it up and I might believe you one day.”

  “Your sarcasm, Mrs. Masters, has been duly noted.”

  “Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’m a sucker for that story. Tell it to me again.” She strums down the strings and watches me.

  So I say, “Hey—”

  “No. No. No skipping over the good parts. Start from the very beginning.”

  “I’ll sing instead,” I say, laughing. I start playing my new song, the one where I get to sing about a girl in a flower-covered dress and a name that starts with J. I move my chair closer to hers and look into her eyes.

  My forever.

  She’s always been my muse, but now she’s the melody that plays in my heart, the one that made it worthwhile to go back to the start.

  On a Personal Note

  Huge kisses, hugs, love, and all the good stuff in life for my husband and two kids. They stand by me and support me endlessly while I write all day and into the night. I am living my dream because of them and I will forever be grateful to them. I love you, guys. XOXO

  Thank you to the team who helps me tirelessly and without griping when I make enormous demands on their time and friendship. Yes, thank you for holding my hand through the tough times and celebrating the victories with me. Thank you for you being you - Adriana, Amy B., Andrea J., Annette, Cara, Heather, Irene, Jessica, Kristen, Liv, Lynsey, Melissa, and Ruth.

  To my awesome group in SL Scott Books on Facebook - You are AMAZING. Thank you for being there for me and for making this group so lovely.

  Readers, you are the best, just amazing for all of your support. Thank you for loving my books.

  Dear Bloggers, you are simply amazing. Thank you for your time and love and enthusiasm.

  About the Author

  For more information on New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author, S. L. Scott: