by Mia Taylor
A magazine smacked Cypher in the face even before he could open his eyes.
“Jesus, Fox, what the hell?” he growled, sitting up from his reclined position, but the bassist grinned stupidly at him, seemingly unaware of his irritation. A wave of blond hair covered his green eyes but that didn’t stop an excited shine from gleaming through.
“Look! We’re number one again!” Fox hooted, gesturing at the copy of Rolling Stone which had fallen to the floor of the recording studio. “Ten weeks in a row!”
Cypher eyed him, half-amused, half-contemptuous.
Was I ever this excited about anything? he wondered. If he had been, it was too long ago to remember.
“You sound surprised,” he commented, reaching for the fallen pages. “It’s not the first time we’ve topped the charts.”
“I know! But it’s awesome! It doesn’t get any less awesome!” Fox chirped as he skipped around like some drunk leprechaun.
It was embarrassing to see a grown man screech but Cypher had to admit the emotion was infectious.
Cypher scanned the pages quickly, confirming that his bandmate’s assessment was true and he couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement as he saw that their latest single was still going strong.
“We should go out and celebrate,” Fox announced, pacing around the soundproofed studio, and Cypher could see the wheels in his head turning.
“We could go to—”
“We have a show tonight,” Cypher reminded him flatly. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“We have one last show tonight,” the bass guitarist agreed. “Afterward, we’ll blow off the afterparty and celebrate, the four of us.”
Cypher snickered and cast the magazine aside, flopping back against the Italian leather sofa. His black hair curled around the base of his neck as he settled in.
“As much as I appreciate your propensity for bromance, the others won’t go for it,” Cypher assured him. “This tour has been the death of us. Between recording and stage shows, I can barely see straight. If I’m blowing off the afterparty for anything, it’s good old-fashioned sleep.”
Fox glared at Cypher, folding his arms over his chest in annoyance.
“How can you always be such a wet blanket? I know you’ve been at this longer than us, Cypher, but we’re still living on this high, you know?”
“And I’m happy for you,” Cypher insisted, his gray eyes flashing with indignation. “But you can live without me, can’t you?”
“That’s true. I never invited my dad to a party before,” Fox retorted and Cypher snorted.
“What’s going on in here?”
Carter glanced at them, twirling his trademark drumsticks between long fingers.
“Nothing,” Fox grumbled sullenly and Cypher rolled his eyes.
“Our party planner wants us to go on a double-date after the show tonight,” he said sarcastically. “Celebrate our tenth week at the top of the charts.”
Carter’s eyes lit up as they landed on the magazine and he snatched it up.
“Holy shit! That’s great!” he howled, doing a silly jig. “Wow, we’ve come a long way since our garage, haven’t we, Fox?”
Cypher watched the men grin at one another and he felt a stab of envy as he realized why he couldn’t share in their enthusiasm.
They had been together since childhood, playing in their parents’ basements, signing crappy gigs at holes in the walls in the outskirts of Seattle.
Their passion was still alive, still fresh, whereas Cypher’s was growing old and stale.
Am I growing old and stale too?
It wasn’t their fault, of course. He’d been discovered when he was nineteen, doing open mic at a bar in Reno.
It was the first good thing that had ever happened to Cypher in his entire life and for once, he thought the gods had been smiling on him.
Cypher was the entire package and the agent who had found him saw dollar signs from the first minute he laid eyes on the handsome boy. It was impossible not to be taken in by the young man’s intense smoky eyes and raven hair. His body was toned but lean and he was tall enough to make any woman swoon.
Added to the fact that he was properly decorated with a slew of tasteful tattoos about his bronzed skin, it was easy to see that he would have a following based on his attractiveness alone.
But when Cypher opened his mouth and the mournful lyrics spilled from his full lips, all bets were off. His music was unsurpassed emotion, filling anyone in earshot with the same soulful sadness of Chris Cornell or Kurt Cobain.
Cypher had been sure that his luck was going to change the minute he put his signature on the contract, signing his soul away to Sony.
That had been before the reality of the life had smacked him in the face, the realization that fame and fortune hadn’t given him any of the answers he’d been seeking since he had been left in front of that imposing orphanage in Louisville what seemed like a hundred years ago.
The band he worked with now, Elevated, were good guys but Cypher just wasn’t on the same playing field as them.
They were where he was fifteen years earlier, soaking up the feeling of being adored, enjoying the sensation of being on top.
It won’t last. One day they’re going to wake up and be just as jaded as I am, he thought with some sadness. Albeit probably for different reasons.
“Come on, Cypher,” Fox begged. “One night of partying with us won’t ruin your DGAF image.”
The singer felt a pang of shame as he stared at their hopeful faces.
What is wrong with me? When did I become the guy who ruins everyone else’s fun? And I’m not even that much older than these guys.
“Yeah,” he muttered, shifting his eyes downward. “Yeah, we can do that. Don’t mind me. I’m tired.”
“We won’t do anything crazy,” Fox promised. “We’ll just have a few people over at my suite and—”
“No,” Cypher interjected. “We can have a party at my place in Presidio.”
They looked at him in surprise.
“You have a house in San Francisco? How come we never knew that?” Carter asked and Cypher nodded.
“It’s a nice place. I’ll work out the details and I’ll text you the address. You can invite whoever you want.”
They stared at him warily as if waiting for a caveat but there was none.
“Okay?” he asked, looking from bandmate to bandmate.
“Yeah, yeah, sure!” they muttered, glancing at each other, apparently shocked by Cypher’s sudden burst of generosity.
How much of a jerk have I been to these guys to make them look at me like that? I’ll have to work on morale around here.
“But we still have a riff to record and a gig to prepare for, so stop screwing around,” the singer continued, not wanting them to get all sappy in the moment.
They snapped to attention and hurried into the sound room, leaving Cypher to stare after them with an unexpected wave of affection.
Of all the other bands he’d worked with since starting his career, he liked these guys the best.
Maybe they reminded him of himself when he was young and idealistic.
Was I ever young and idealistic? If he had been, Cypher certainly couldn’t recall what it felt like.
For as long as he could remember, he had been flooded with a sense of loss, a deep yearning to find the family he’d lost, the brothers he’d been forced to leave behind.
In the back of his mind, he could still hear his mother’s voice telling him that it was his responsibility to care for the little ones and he had failed, miserably.
The guilt remained with him, even though he knew there was little he could have done at his age, no matter how much he’d wanted to honor his mother’s wish.
As he’d bounced in and out of foster care, eventually thrown out to fend for himself, Cypher had always clung to the idea that he would one day see his siblings and his mother again.
He wondered if his brothers remembered him at all.
Then again, how much do I remember about life before that dreadful, rainy day?
There had been flashes, of course, images popping in and out of his mind, but had they been real or merely things he had concocted to piece together a childhood he could barely recall?
His dark-haired mother’s face was always there, sorrowful and filled with regret as she walked away from them, the baby wailing in his arms as they called out for her to come back.
Even her name was still a mystery, even with all his money and connections.
After all, his mother had never formally surrendered him and no woman in Louisville had somehow been without four children twenty-nine years earlier.
For all anyone knew, she wasn’t even from the state and had traveled there specifically to leave the boys far away from wherever their home had been.
His private investigators had produced nothing and his gut told him that she had never wanted to be found.
She gave us up because she knew what we were. She couldn’t wait to be rid of us, even then.
But that was still a question, wasn’t it? Were they all the same or was he the only one with the remarkable shifting power which both helped and hindered him?
“Hey! You’re the one who just lit a fire under our butts to get moving. Now you’re daydreaming?” Fox yelled from the doorway. “We’ve got a riff to record and a show tonight, remember?”
Cypher looked up and granted him a quick smile.
“Coming,” he said, rising from the sofa.
All of that had happened so long ago, to another little boy, a little boy with brothers.
Cypher Maison wasn’t that person anymore. He’d been left behind in one of the dozens of foster homes or under the switch of an incensed nun who didn’t understand why he was the way he was.
How many years am I going to dwell on the past? he wondered. When will I just accept that some things are left better in the past where they belong?
“Let’s do this!” he declared with renewed conviction as he stormed the doors to the studio. “I’m starving so you guys better get it right the first time.”
~ ~ ~
By the time he’d stepped on stage that night, Cypher was about ready to drop from exhaustion. The tour really had been about all he could take and he was grateful that it was their last show for a while.
He needed the break both physically and emotionally, some downtime to recharge and unwind.
Maybe I’ll head to Costa Rica for a month. Hang out in the rain forest for a while. Get eaten by mosquitos.
He was beginning to regret the fact that he’d agreed to host the party at his estate that night but there was little he could do about it now.
As promised, he’d arranged for the mansion to be prepared for them following the show where they’d skip the backstage party.
Meh, it’s a small price to pay. One night won’t kill me, he thought as he jumped into action, hearing the roar of the crowd fill his ears. He remembered his promise to improve his relationship with his bandmates and a stupid party would go a long way.
“Good evening, San Francisco!” he howled and they screamed his name as he strummed his electric guitar wildly. “Are you ready to party?”
Their adoration was almost palpable and Carter cued him in with his drumsticks before the band started their opening song.
The bright lights on his face caused beads of sweat to materialize on his forehead almost instantly, and suddenly, Cypher was reminded why he did it all.
Adrenaline pumped through his veins and as always, he felt like he might transform out of his skin and into his bear form, right before the fans, but of course he didn’t.
It was the power of their love which fueled him, drove him to sing with more passion, more vigor.
Any doubts he had about himself dissipated with each note he belted and soon he was so caught up in the feeling, he forgot that he was being watched by eight thousand people.
It was an amazing show, heightened by the sensation that something was different that night, something he couldn’t quite identify.
Whatever it was had motivated him to sing harder, with more fervor until his voice ran hoarse.
Cypher could feel his bandmates watching him with awe as if he was some god playing to the audience, but something else was happening and for a while, he felt as if he had floated out of his own body and was watching himself from the ceiling of the Bill Graham Arena.
It was a heady and foreign experience, one he had not had in years. He felt like he was performing for one person in the crowd but who, he could not say.
There was a connection to someone out there, he knew it, but who it was, well, that was impossible to know.
Cypher could barely believe he managed to finish the show, not only because his voice was drained but because he’d dug into some unknown reservoir of energy he wasn’t aware he had.
“Whoa!” Fox gasped when they stumbled back into their dressing room at the end of the show. “That was insane, Cypher!”
“Dude, where did you get that panache?” Carter agreed and Byron only gaped at him as if he was some otherworldly being.
“I’ve never seen you like that,” Fox insisted. “Wow!”
Cypher collapsed onto the worn loveseat and gulped back an entire bottle of water, his face soaked in sweat.
After he finished the first one, he picked up a second one to douse himself with.
“Are you okay, man?” Carter asked worriedly. “You’re pale.”
Cypher nodded his head, his heart still pumping wildly from the show.
“Yeah,” he finally said, speaking for the first time since stepping off stage to a roaring, demanding crowd. “Yeah, I’m good.”
They stared at him as if expecting an explanation for his display but Cypher had nothing to give them.
He had no idea where the influx of exhilaration had come from but it lingered still.
“Just relax, man,” Byron told him, tossing a towel at him. “Catch your breath. We’ll deal with the groupies.”
To their shock, Cypher shook his head and rose to his feet.
“I can deal with them tonight.”
Their jaws nearly hit the floor as he sauntered toward the door, wrapping the towel around his dripping neck.
They had never heard Cypher voluntarily agree to meet with the fans after the show but there was someone out there tonight, someone calling to him.
Could it be one of my brothers? My mother?
Many times he’d wondered if one of his family members had been to his shows, even tried to get backstage to see him and been kept out by security.
But never had he been so sure that there was someone in the house that night that he was meant to meet. Their energy was almost tangible and Cypher couldn’t suppress the feeling that whoever it was had to be close enough to touch.
“Cypher, are you having a stroke?” Fox asked nervously and Cypher laughed.
“Maybe,” he replied. “See you at the party.”
He was gone before any of his bandmates could respond but it was probably for the best; none of them really knew what to say.
Chapter Three
Not What She Was Expecting
Chloe gritted her teeth together and looked around worriedly, her pulse racing nervously.
Up until five minutes ago, she had lost all the doubts which had followed her to the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium, lost in the soulful tones of Cypher Maison’s voice.
She had gone to the concert kicking and screaming, almost literally.
“I don’t want to go!” she insisted. “Just take some pics and send them to me.”
“You’ll go and you’ll like it!”
“No. I’m not going. You know how I feel about stuff like that, Holly!”
“It’s too late,” Holly told her flatly. “Rhys already spent a fortune on your ticket. You have to go. He was up all n
ight trying to secure them for us.”
“I have no interest in going to a concert!” Chloe protested, her voice so indignant, the seagulls squawked in annoyance.
She sat up on her beach towel and scowled at her roommate.
“I hate concerts!” Chloe complained, shaking sand off her legs with one hand as she shielded her crystalline eyes with the other. “You know I hate concerts, Holly.”
“You love Elevated,” Holly insisted. “That’s why we got the tickets. You’ll listen to Cypher Maison on a loop every single day if you had the choice. Here, give me your phone—I bet you’re playing the Crushed album right now, aren’t you?”
“I am not!” Chloe denied, her face flushed with embarrassment that her friend knew her so well. Subtly, she logged off her iTunes lest Holly decided to check anyway.
“Chloe, I know you aren’t a fan of crowds but you’ve gotta overcome your fears,” Holly sighed. “Rhys and I will be with you. It’s your graduation present from us.”
A twinge of regret slid through Chloe as she realized she was giving her friend a hard time again.
She’s just trying to do something nice for me. I don’t need to give her grief about it. She’s right. I can’t avoid crowds forever and if it’s going to be any concert, it may as well be Elevated.
“I really wish you’d asked me first,” Chloe relented, settling back against her beach towel, trying to steel herself for the impending evening.
“You’ll love it. We got backstage access,” Holly assured her.
But suddenly, Chloe was back to her place of anxiety and uncertainty as she stared at the throngs of people fighting to get toward the doors. The concert was over, along with the intoxicating feeling that Cypher Maison’s voice had upon her.
Suddenly everyone wanted to leave and she felt as if she was about to be plowed over in the masses.
This was a bad idea, she thought, chewing on the insides of her cheeks as her head twisted around. I need to get out of here.
She’d promised Holly and Rhys she would stay put but she couldn’t anymore. She was feeling suffocated, the tingling sensation of the concert evaporating with each shoving person who pushed their way past her.
Why did they leave me here like this? she wondered worriedly. One of them should have stayed with me.