Snow Flakes (Burnt Ashes #0.5)

by K. E Taylor

  “Come on, Chace. Please, just —”

  He interrupts me, “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not complaining, and I’m not going to tell your brother. I sure as shit ain’t telling Logan. You girls never got a lift with me, though, okay? I’d like to keep my face looking this good.”

  I nod and glance at Lola, who looks just as amazed as I am. “Thanks, Chace!” she says, leaning forward, placing a kiss on his cheek.

  “It wouldn’t be Christmas without a little drama, right? They’re gonna freak the fuck out when they see you dressed like that, Kayla. Logan might actually have a heart attack. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  I roll my eyes at his words, but the thought of Logan having a reaction to my outfit at all is thrilling. I’ve had a secret crush on him for years, but it is purely one-sided. It is one of those forbidden crushes that you’re not supposed to have on your best friend. I’ve yet to meet a woman that hasn’t had a crush on him…or slept with him, for that matter. The only reason he hasn’t slept with Lola is because I’d made him promise me that he’d never sleep with any of my friends. He may have loose morals, but he always keeps his word.

  I’m jolted out of my thoughts by my cell phone ringing. I quickly pull it out of my clutch purse and see Braden’s name flashing across the screen. “Hey,” I say, glaring at Lola as she smothers her laughter with her hand.

  “Nice pizza trick, little sister. So, are you gonna tell me why you felt the need to sneak out?” Braden asks, amusement lacing his voice. I’m pretty sure when he sees me dressed like this, all his amusement will be gone.

  “I’m hardly your little sister, Bray. You’re only a few minutes older than me.”

  “It’s a guy, isn’t it? You may as well tell me. I’m gonna find out sooner or later anyway.”

  “There is no guy. Lola and I just wanted to leave before you, that’s all. I’m fine. See you soon!” I say, ending the call and putting my phone back in my clutch. I catch Chace’s bright eyes in the rear-view mirror. He seems to be enjoying this situation a little too much.

  I don’t know what I would do if Mac didn’t keep me level. There have been times when I have been so close to losing it, but she has always talked me down. I don’t think she will ever know how much she has done for me, and I don’t know if I will ever be able to thank her enough.

  I started playing the guitar when I was seven. Logan started soon after. It took a while to get him off of his acoustic and onto a Fender six string, but the guy took to it like a duck to water. I can’t help but think Mac had something to do with it when she stated how playing the acoustic was what college boy stoner’s did. How they would sit under a tree in the campus quad, singing about their feelings and freeing whales or something. Watching his face drop at that was priceless. She didn’t mean any harm but Logan, the emotional sap he is, took it to heart.

  A while after we learned how to play the guitar, we entered the school talent show. We played a version of Teen Spirit, only we went for more of a nu metal approach. It was well-received by the people in the audience but, in all honesty, it was a disaster. I screwed up so many notes, and Logan fell back into a classical riff that sounded shitty, but we had fun. It wasn’t long before we thought maybe we could do this as more than a hobby. But finding the time for it was nearly impossible, what with all the shit I was having to deal with in and out of school.

  After our parents passed, my grams sat me down one night and bluntly told me she needed help to look after me and Mac, and it wasn’t fair for her to be responsible for the two of us. I ended up dropping out of school, getting a job to help pay the bills and put food on the table. I made the time around my work schedule to play more, and even looked at some of the textbooks Mac was bringing home. I felt really envious of her at times, but work wasn’t all that bad. I learned how to fix cars, which was another passion of mine, but I don’t think it was what our parents had planned. I mean, they knew my grams had money. They just didn’t realise she had burned through most of it since her husband passed. Our parents had left money for us, too, but we couldn’t touch it until we turned twenty-one. I can’t say for sure if Mac was ever aware of just how bad things were with Grams. I mean, she kind of idolised her, and Grams really took a shine to her, too. I guess it was just my job as the oldest to look out for her, even if I am only older by a few minutes.

  “All right, guys. When you’re ready.” I look at the blank faces of my friends and band members. It’s the first time in a while I have seen all of us looking so nervous before going on to perform.

  “Well, gents. It’s been an honour,” Trey says groggily. It doesn’t matter what sorry state he is in before walking out in front of a crowd of people, he just becomes a different person…focused and dedicated. The only problem is that he occasionally comes out with quotes from James Cameron’s Titanic. Nobody has quite figured out why. Logan has a bet with Sam that Trey could get dragged out on stage asleep, and the moment he would pass the threshold, he would bolt upright and be raring to go. We just haven’t had a chance to try it out yet.

  “Really?” Chace quips. “Another freaking Titanic quote?”

  “So what?” Trey whines. “It’s a good movie.”

  “You know that part you keep quoting was when the shit hit the fan and they were sinking, right?” Trey nods.

  Chuckling, Logan, for the thousandth time in the last few minutes, is checking to make sure his guitar is in tune. I am filled with such pride for knowing these guys. We have all been through so much to get here but, yet, here we are.

  “Okay, folks. Our next band are some real good up-and-comers. Give a shout out to…the Snoooow Flakkkkkes!”

  Oh god, I hate that name. It was a name that was picked during one of our many discussions on the subject. Trey, our newest and youngest member, and Chace had come up with it, and they both swore by it. Logan said he didn’t care either way, as long as Sam didn’t get a vote. Trey claimed to have come up with the name while staring at his body in the shower. That’s a real point of contention to say the least, especially now that almost half his body is covered in tattoos.

  I look at Logan and he nods at me as the previous band finishes packing up and walks towards us. The lead singer is a chick with black hair, a streak of flame red running through it. Her name is Mary, but her nickname is “Bloody Mary”, mainly because of her reputation for fighting. But, damn, she is hot. Everything about her is just so… I don’t know. Vibrant? Her face has a lot of Asian influences to it, like the shape of her eyes.

  She brushes past me, not bothering to look my way, but I can’t stop my heart from skipping a beat.

  “You were really great up there,” I say.

  She looks over her shoulder at me, her eyes hooded with black eyeliner and glitter. Her lips part into a smile. “Fuck off,” she says so innocently, it takes a moment or two to register what she had just said. Her base player smirks at me and moves to put an arm around her, but she bats it away as she walks out of view.

  “Smooth, Romeo. Lola will cut you if she catches you fawning all over another girl,” Sam sneers, pushing me through the curtain and onto the stage.

  I frown, absently running my hand over the stubble on my jaw. “Lola and I aren’t really seeing each other. We’re just…you know…”

  The smell of the stage hits me. The delectably bittersweet scent of smoke, stale beer, and dust burning on the lenses of the lights positioned around.

  “Just admit you two are an item already, Bray. It’s not so bad…,” Chace says. I narrow my gaze on him, but the dolt is grinning from ear-to-ear.

  “Besides…,” Logan adds, reaching down to plug his guitar in the amp. A few girls start screaming, and he can’t help but offer them a suggestive wink. “She’s Mac’s friend. Unless it’s anything but mutual, you’re going to put a stress on their friendship.”

  All of us are watching Logan now. It’s Chace, collapsing into a fit of the giggles, who can’t control himself. “When did Golden Balls become such a girly-
girl?!”

  “Oh, I do hope you don’t put a strain on her friendship!” Trey shrieks. Logan turns away, his cheeks flushed. He is spitting out a slur of words in Spanish so rapidly and with such intensity, I only manage to pick out a few basics, like “devil” “ass”, and “break”.

  I plug my guitar in, then remove the mic from its cradle. I don’t know if it’s me, but I swear the mic smells faintly of jasmine and vanilla. It could only be Mary…

  The crowd starts to simmer down, saving Logan from being ravaged by the guys or, more importantly, saving the guys from Logan, who will probably make them pay later. Logan nods, and taps his mic twice, as we get into character. “This first song is called ‘Forgotten Promises’.”

  I look out among the mass of people, spotting a couple of crazy chicks who’d come out in the middle of winter in Mrs. Clause outfits. Something has to be really wrong with the two of them. I mean, the club is packed and most people are wearing baggy t-shirts and dog collars! Not skimpy… Wait a second…

  The light clears for a moment, allowing my vision to adjust and I can make out the figures better now. That’s my kid sister and Lola! Good thing Logan is singing first because my mouth has just run uncomfortably dry. Chace is picking up the tempo, and Logan’s about to break out in song when he must have spotted Mac because he fumbles with his strings and skips a couple of beats. Sam takes over and plays an impromptu riff that seems to smooth it over. With a bit of luck, the crowd wouldn’t have noticed the mistakes, but I know Logan is going to be beating himself up over it when we’re finished with the set.

  It’s always the same feeling of euphoria when we’re on stage. Something about the flashing lights, the pulse of people jumping around, cheering and screaming. The room is small, and when you’re in there and setting up or just hanging out when it’s empty, it feels small. However, add the people, the speakers blaring, the lights… It’s like nothing else. The tattered and worn posters, the smell of bleach from the toilets, the subtle hum from the fridges working behind the bar… Everything fades. You are left there in the moment. A moment like you’re on centre stage in Madison Square Garden when, in fact, you’re in a pigeon hole of a club in the ass end of Vancouver.

  I look at the guys, and I know they’re feeling it, too. Strands of hair are sticking out of place while Logan takes us on a journey. His voice is so thick and smooth, it’s like melted chocolate. I’m in awe of him. How can he be so fearless? How can he just wear his heart on his sleeve when he’s on stage? If he was like that all the time off stage, I know Mac wouldn’t stand a chance. I catch those exchanged looks, the flirting. I get that they can’t help it, but he’s my best friend, and she’s my sister. If or, more likely, when he breaks her heart, I will have to pick sides, and I don’t want to do that.

  “Fucking fuck. I have no idea what Logan was thinking up there on stage. Fuckin’ dude fumbles his solo, like, fuckin’ two fuckin’ seconds in? Great! Yeah, we’re all, like, fuckin’ professionals here, man! Fuck.”

  “All right, Sam. Calm down,” Braden says to me.

  “We worked too hard for Golden Boy to lose his shit right out of the gate!”

  “Uh...Sam…” Trey is trying to approach me, but I don’t really give a shit what he has to say right now.

  “What?” I spit.

  “It’s Golden Balls. Like David Beckham only…you know…different balls,” Trey says, tilting his head to one side, like I am his fuckin’ student, and he is an all-knowing teacher.

  “Yeah, Sam. Golden Boy was that movie with the bloody rice and Eddie Murphy. Remember?” Chace adds. I swear, these two are like a fuckin’ couple. They are always finishing each other’s sentences. I scratch my head trying to think, forgetting that I have been shaving my head for the past few months. I am totally rocking this Vin Diesel vibe.

  “I am drawing a total blank to that. What’s so fucking special about the rice anyway?”

  There is a knock on the changing room door, and Braden heads over to answer.

  “There was blood in it,” both Chace and Trey say at the same time, then break out in a fit of laughter. I have no idea what’s so funny, so I just nod and turn back to carry on my conversation with Logan.

  “You guys killed it out there tonight!” Lola says, stepping in. She wiggles up to Braden, who offers her a shy smile.

  Braden, the nice guy, has to be just an act. My grams always used to say that men only pretend to be nice so when they do something shitty, they can swear it’ll never happen again. She said it’s our nature. Honesty is the best policy, I reckon. He should just tell her to go for a walk, but he won’t because he doesn’t want to upset her. Me? I see a girl I like, I ask her if she wants to go fuck. It’s that simple. The chick either says yes or no. Granted, sometimes I get a slap or two, but it’s a numbers game. None of that silly bullshit of passing notes or texts or whatever. It’s the same when you’re done with a chick. You say that was fun. Let’s do it again sometime! Sometimes it works, other times…well, other times you have a bitch come at you with a knife, but whatever. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

  “Sam, I really liked that solo you did at the beginning. It really got everyone fired up!” Lola says, addressing me. Hmm…maybe she’s not so hopeless after all.

  “Yeah,” I say, drawing in a deep breath. “Sometimes you just need to pick up the slack for others, ya know?” She smiles, but looks a little confused.

  “You know, pequeño, you look very creepy when you say stuff so smugly like that,” Logan growls. “Someone might have to teach you a lesson.”

  “Oh, you think so, fuck-face?” I snarl back, clenching my right hand into a fist.

  “Come on, guys. Not this again…,” Chace intercedes. Braden is still trying to get away from Lola so he can split us up.

  “What the fuck is a peckynose, anyway?” I fume.

  Logan and I never really get along that well, but he played a prank on me a couple of months ago, and I just can’t let it go. A dark grin begins to spread across my face. Maybe Logan and I should settle things. I am about to launch myself at him when Trey hits the floor in what appears to be convulsive spasms. All of us stop, not noticing that Mac slips in through the door. We all crowd around Trey, reaching for our phones to call 911, when we realise he isn’t dying. The shit is in fits of giggles so hard, he can’t even talk.

  “Trey, what the fuck, man? You’re about to piss yourself.”

  “I-it’s…” He starts choking again, barely able to swallow down his laughing long enough to talk. “It’s Lo-Lo-Logan a-and S-Sam…”

  “What? What about them?” Chace asks, still looking concerned for his friend.

  Trey’s voice changes and takes on an edge that you get when you’re trying to hold in smoke. “It’s just that... Sa-Sam is pissed because of what Lo-Logan did to his sh…sh…”

  “Shampoo…,” Chace helps out. “So what?”

  “L-Logan said S-Sam looked creepy…”

  “Get to the point,” I say, coldly, having had enough of this farce.

  “I-I realised that S-Sam was going for a l-look l-like V-Vin Diesel…”

  “Spit it out already…,” Chace says, trying to push Trey.

  “B-bu-but…” Trey can’t hold back any longer. He clenches his abs with one hand, reaching for his phone with the other. Then he passes it to Chace, who looks at it and starts to snort, standing up. He hands the phone to Braden, refusing to look at either me or Logan.

  “What?” I ask. “What’s on the phone?”

  Braden simply shakes his head. Mac peers over his shoulder at the phone, and her eyes light up. She starts to bight her lip, as Logan looks at the phone, then me. The fuck is not going to see whatever it is before I do. We both start rushing for the phone, bumping shoulders a few times, clambering for the damned thing. We finally see what set Trey off. There is an image on it.

  Very calmly, Logan puts one hand on my shoulder. I’m ready to swing at him when he says, “This picture doesn’t do you justice.
” He then promptly leaves the room without saying a word or showing a reaction, but I fuckin’ know he’s bursting at the seams.

  Honestly, the picture is funny. The moment the shock wears off, I start to laugh. Fucking Trey is going to pay. We are going to have to start a douche jar or something, and get him to put some fuckin’ money in.

  “I don’t get it. What’s so funny?” Lola asks. She genuinely looks hurt at being kept out of the loop.

  I pass her the phone, and wait as she starts to compare the picture. “But Uncle Fester looks nothing like Vin Diesel…,” she says seriously. We all watch as she finally gets it, and lets out a little embarrassed gasp. “Oh…”

  That is it. We are all in full swing. Every one of us laughs so hard, it feels like the air has been sucked from the room. Even Logan, who had apparently only retreated as far as the corridor, had fallen back into the changing room in a befuddled fit of laughter.

  The light… It burns. I totally get how Gollum felt with the string on him, writhing in agony. I swear to God, I am never going to touch a drink again. Ever. All right. Thinking that alcohol might help makes me kind of want to wrap my lips around a big ol’ bottle of bourbon and draw from it until the pain at the back of my head turns into a burn in my chest. The only problem with that is the fact that if I have a mouthful of any spirit first thing in the morning, I start heaving.

  “Morning, man. How’re you feeling?” Chace asks.

  I lift my head lazily, but it sends more pulsing pains to the back of it. “I feel awesome,” I say, wincing. “It’s everyone else!”

  “That makes no sense, dude!”

  “Can you blame me?” I ask. “I just woke up and haven’t had any coffee.” That was a subtle hint for Chace to get his ass in gear and put the pot on.

  Slowly, I try and stand up, pulling the blanket off. I’m lying in bed alone. It’s kind of like Russian roulette. Sometimes I wake up alone; other times, I don’t. I blame alcohol for making me such a romantic. The next step is the same as every other morning. I walk proudly to the bathroom, my boxer briefs tenting, and try to pee in the right direction. Which, just so we’re clear, is hard to do with an erection. I mean, you point down and it starts bucking and, before you know it, it’s like there’s been a sprinkler in the bathroom.