Let it Burn: Sons of Sinners Part 2 (A Rock Star Romance)

by Grace James

  “Sure,” he agreed amiably – but sort of like he was humoring me; as if he knew, or suspected, that I wanted him out of the way.

  I came out from behind the bar and led him across the main room and through the door at the side of the stage. As we passed through the backstage area, I saw cameras being set up to capture the show later.

  “So, of course, you’re going to credit us obviously and repeatedly with providing the venue for this show, right?” I asked over my shoulder as we entered the hallway to the offices, stock rooms and dressing rooms. The hallway was painted a deep blood red and the carpet was maroon. It was moody and atmospheric, in complete contrast to the framed pictures of Harvey that were dotted along each wall. In each picture, he was posing with a different band, grinning like a loon.

  Blake was right behind me as we walked. Close behind me. And although he didn’t actually touch me, I could feel his presence there all the same. It was oppressive. Tense. Like there was a huge amount of pent up energy buzzing around us.

  “Don’t worry, Princess, we’ll make it worth your while. You’ll be cashing in on this gig for a long time to come.”

  “Good,” I replied coolly, glancing back at him. “Then we’re all going to get something out of it.”

  He raised an eyebrow, like Come on, be real. “Yeah, I think it’s safe to say you’re gonna get the most out of it.”

  “Wow. I forgot how modest you weren’t.”

  Despite, or possibly because of, the acid in my tone, Blake snorted a rough laugh. “Shit, I missed your bitchy streak.”

  I stopped abruptly a few feet away from the door to the largest dressing room and turned to face him. “You’re calling me a bitch now?”

  “Dammit, it was supposed to be a compliment,” he said, a little irritably.

  I squinted at him, trying to understand how calling me a bitch qualified as a compliment.

  In the end, I gave up trying to figure him out.

  What was the point?

  He’d be gone in a few hours.

  I pushed the door to the dressing room open and immediately started to go through the motions. “The restroom is through that door.” I gestured to my left. “And the fridge is stocked.” I pointed to the mini fridge in the corner next to the solitary couch and glass coffee table. “But if there’s anything else you need, let me know.”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “There’s something else I need.”

  I turned back to face him with a huff. “And that is?”

  He clicked the door shut behind him and took a couple of leisurely steps towards me, taking a sip of his beer before he spoke. “A conversation. Thought we could catch up, it’s been a while.”

  It’s been a WHILE?! Is he for real?

  “Yeah, it has,” I agreed, fighting the bitterness that threatened to spew out of me. “So, thanks for picking The Academy. It means a lot to Harvey. He’s a big fan.”

  Blake didn’t appreciate my diplomacy. “I didn’t come here for him.”

  “Right. Apparently, you want us to catch up.”

  “Right. But I can see that’s a problem.”

  “No, it’s not a problem. It’s just unnecessary. It’s not like we’re in each other’s lives anymore.”

  For a beat, he just looked at me. Then his mouth slid up at one corner. “Well, that’s the whole point of catching up, Princess,” he said slowly as he walked over to the couch and flopped down, putting his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. “So, c’mon, how’ve you been?”

  He looked so casual just sitting there. Like this was no big deal to him. Like seeing me again after all this time was nothing. Like I was nothing.

  And I could deal with a lot, but I couldn’t deal with that.

  “I’m not doing this with you,” I said, turning away and starting for the door.

  Blake moved fast. Suddenly, his hand was on my wrist, caging it. The calluses of his fingers were rough against my soft skin, familiar and alien all at once. The sensation sent a bolt of…something through me as he pulled me back to face him.

  Then I was pinned to the spot, staring up into piercing, sapphire blue eyes.

  It was too much.

  It awoke too much inside of me.

  I tugged my arm out of his grasp vehemently. “Don’t touch me!”

  He actually had the audacity to look a little hurt as he dropped his hand to his side. “The fuck? I'm asking for a conversation, Princess. Not a fucking kidney.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are?!” I shot at him, unable to control my anger a second longer. “You just show up here like – like you own the place – like it’s yours to just take and use however you want –”

  “Woah, woah, hey,” he cut in, raising his hands, palms facing me in a placating gesture. “We called ahead. Harvey said it was fine.”

  “Well of course he did! He’s not exactly going to turn you down, is he?!”

  “Look, I didn’t come back here to upset you –”

  “Oh, please,” I scoffed. “I’m the opposite of upset. This is me pissed.”

  “Riiiight.” His cocky grin returned. “You’re pissed that I’m here, giving you and your boss this opportunity. You’re pissed that I’m gonna put on an exclusive show at your venue that’ll generate a fuckload of business for you. You’re pissed that out of all the venues in Vegas, I picked yours.”

  “Oh, my God! You are so full of yourself!”

  “No, I’m just honest.”

  “Well, in that case, be honest – why my venue, Blake? If you wanted somewhere ‘glamour free’, Filthy Joe’s would’ve been the better choice given your history there. So why here?”

  “Why do you think?”

  “Wow, you really don’t want to answer that question, do you? That’s the second time you’ve dodged it.”

  He barked a laugh. “No, it’s the second time I’ve put it back on you.”

  “Same difference,” I snapped.

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Okay, this conversation is officially going nowhere fast.

  I pulled in a long breath through my nose. “Fine, don’t answer,” I said, forcing myself to speak calmly when what I really wanted to do was scream at him. “I have to go. I have work to do.”

  “Did you miss me?”

  Those words, and the low intimacy in his voice, caught me completely off guard. “…what kind of question is that?”

  “A genuine one.”

  “Did you miss me?” I asked skeptically.

  “Yes,” he answered immediately.

  My breath left my body in a rush, but…

  Bullshit. You don’t just SUDDENLY miss someone after three years.

  “Suuuure you did,” I drawled sarcastically.

  He didn’t like that. I saw the muscles in his jaw jump. “Did you ever listen to our albums?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Did you?” he pressed.

  “Yes,” I admitted as I crossed my arms over my chest. “Of course I did.”

  “Then you’ll know at least half our songs are about you.”

  I just stared at him.

  Because I’d thought that maybe that was the case, but I hadn’t known for sure. Blake’s lyrics could be kind of cryptic. And then there was the fact that he went through women like most people went through coffee. Lyrics like, “Moonlight drips from your pink lips when I slide my hand between your hips,” could really have been about anyone.

  Ew.

  Only a few songs left me in no doubt that they were about me – the most notable was the title track of Sons of Sinners’ second album, Loaded Deck.

  “You know which ones I mean,” he said. “I can see it in your face.”

  “So I inspired a few songs, what’s your point? The Beatles wrote a song about a freaking Walrus – it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just something to sing.”

  His face hardened. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. It means something. The words I sing, the mel
ody…” he trailed off and shook his head, his jaw clenching. “Point is, I never stopped thinking about you. All this time, you were in my head.”

  My heart squeezed in my chest, hearing that. Because he’d been in my head, too…but I didn’t want him to be. I definitely didn’t think he deserved to be.

  I kept my voice cold when I asked, “What do you want from me, Blake? Sympathy?”

  “I just want you to understand that I never wanted to –”

  “Upset me? Yeah, you said that already.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, bringing one hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he agreed with a sigh. “I guess I did.”

  That time, when I turned to leave, he didn’t try and stop me.

  9

  Not long after I left Blake’s dressing room, Derren showed up. As usual, he was dressed head to toe in black with his long, dark hair hanging loose to his shoulders. He was carrying his guitar case in one hand and his cajón in the other, both of which were whisked away from him as soon as he entered the venue by eager roadies.

  As soon as he saw me he winced. “I swear, Amy, I knew nothing. I’m like John fuckin’ Snow. When Hayley called, that was the first I heard about him coming back here – and I only talked to the fucker two days ago.”

  I waved away his concern. “It’s okay. I know. Blake does what he wants, when he wants, right?”

  “Right. Unfortunately.”

  Hayley hopped off her bar stool to give him a kiss. “Tell me you brought me a change of clothes?”

  Derren smacked his hand to his forehead. “Shit! Knew I forgot something!”

  “Typical,” she sighed, glancing down at her paint spattered shirt. “Worst dressed groupie ever.”

  I shot her a look. “Get over it. You’d look hot in a sack.”

  “So says the blond with legs up to here.” She raised a hand above her head.

  I stuck my tongue out at her.

  She blew me a kiss.

  Derren chuckled at us. “Alright, I’m gonna go see Mr. Fucksickle. He in the big dressing room, Amy?”

  “Yep,” I confirmed. Derren knew where it was. Since I’d started working at The Academy, he and Kane had been there plenty. They both owned homes in Vegas, and they always made time to come along and watch local bands perform during their down-time. As such, Derren knew the layout of the place pretty well.

  After Derren disappeared through the door at the side of the stage, Hayley kept me company while I stood around feeling useless. Sons of Sinners’ ‘people’ were swarming everywhere.

  “There are so many of them,” I commented after a while.

  “I was just thinking the opposite.” Hayley smiled at my look of shock. “Honestly, I’m surprised there aren’t more. I swear, the management team is breeding, and they all usually bring personal assistants. And then on tour there’s at least ten times as many roadies.”

  “Wow…”

  “Suddenly seems real, huh? Them being pros?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  I mean, I knew they were famous rock stars now – mentally, I knew that – but I hadn’t seen Sons of Sinners perform live since they were the opening act for Divide – the huge band they’d gone on their first arena tour with. Back then, they’d only had Aiden. No roadies, or PA’s, or stylists, or whoever else worked for them now. And security? Not even an issue. Now, seeing the Sons of Sinners machine in action, even to that limited degree, made it feel real for the first time.

  Soon after that, it really hit home.

  The number of fans who showed up outside the venue even surprised Aiden. There were so many people pushing forwards, trying to get to the front of the crowd, that it was getting dangerous. We had to open the doors early so that those at the front of the crush could come inside. It was clear why so many security personnel were needed when we reached our capacity and the doors had to be forced shut. Scuffles started to break out when people realized that they weren’t going to be able to get inside and see the show after all. The cops were called for crowd control on the street while Sons of Sinners’ security supervised the crowd inside. They were holding people back from the stage even while the house lights were still on, before Blake and Derren even emerged from their dressing room.

  It was totally insane. I couldn’t believe how much hysteria two men and a couple of guitars could create. And I thanked God Aiden had taken control of the security measures – even if he’d been an asshole about it.

  When Blake and Derren finally walked on stage in front of a Las Vegas crowd for the first time in over three years, the place went nuclear. I felt the wave of noise from the crowd wash over me from where I stood, behind the bar.

  Blake had changed into a plain black t-shirt and it looked like he’d swiped a hint of gel through his messy hair. He looked so effortlessly gorgeous it hurt. I watched as he picked up his acoustic guitar and settled himself on the high stool that had been placed center stage. Derren took a seat beside him, his long hair now pushed back and held in place with a black band.

  Blake reached up to adjust the microphone on the stand in front of him, and a moment later his voice drawled playfully over the speakers, “Veeeegas…I’m back.”

  He grinned as the crowd screamed.

  “Guess that means you’re happy to see me?”

  The crowd hollered in the affirmative.

  Blake’s eyes lighted on me then. I was amazed that he had even been able to pick me out, what with all the spotlights that were shining on him. I guess it helped that the lights were on behind the bar – or maybe Hayley had told him where I was standing when she went backstage to watch from the wings? Whatever. As soon as his eyes met mine, he raised his eyebrows and shrugged, like, Will you look at THAT? At least SOMEONE’S happy I’m here. But he didn’t seem bitter. If anything, it seemed like he was back to being amused with the whole situation.

  Together, Blake and Derren played stripped back versions of all of Sons of Sinners’ singles, plus some of their more popular album tracks and a few of the band’s more well-known covers – the ones that had appeared on bootlegs or YouTube over the years. The songs were made simpler but at the same time more intense by the absence of the whole band.

  Blake played his acoustic guitar and sung throughout the whole show, every bit the front man, even sitting down instead of tearing up the stage like he normally would if the full band were playing. Derren provided backing vocals throughout, but switched it up instrumentally; for some songs, he played guitar alongside Blake, for others, he sat atop of the cajón and tapped out a beat to accompany the guitar.

  I couldn’t look away.

  Seeing Blake sitting there with his guitar pulled me back in time…to Blake and me sitting on a bed in a log cabin in the mountains, the soft light of morning all around us. Two lovers alone in our little bubble. Back before everything went to hell.

  And I couldn’t help analyzing every song because now he’d actually admitted that a lot of them were about me – so, the whole time he played I was like, That one was MAYBE about me…That lyric COULD be referring to me…That line was DEFINITELY about me…That one not so much…

  And then they played Loaded Deck.

  I knew they would – it was their biggest selling single, after all – but there was a reason I turned the radio off whenever it came on, or switched TV channels whenever I heard the opening chords. It was the story of us: all the mistakes we made; all the things we did to hurt each other.

  God. I hated that song.

  “Okay, we’re gonna sing a song now called Loaded Deck.” The crowd screamed. Blake grinned. “I’ve been asked a bunch of times to explain the inspiration for this song – guess it captures people’s imagination. And I’m always like, It’s about this time I struck out at Poker. Fuckin’ loaded deck, I’m tellin’ ya!” His smile widened as the crowd laughed. He waited for them to quiet down and when he spoke again his voice was lower, more conspiratorial. “But I think everyone knows that’s not really what it’s
about.” He shook his head playfully. “Nah, it’s really about a woman…” he paused and looked right at me.

  My mouth went dry.

  He’s going to say my name. He’s going to say it, right here, in front of everyone. In front of all those cameras.

  Blake’s eyes held mine. For a second, it was like we were the only two people in the room. “And she might think she’s a walrus,” he continued, smirking as a ripple of faint laughter skipped through the crowd, “but to me she’s always been a Princess –”

  My breath eased out. Okay, that wasn’t so bad.

  “– even on the days when she was ripping my heart out of my chest.”

  Wait. WHAT?!

  I stared at him in dumb, outraged shock as the crowd started to murmur. Blake’s eyes remained on mine for a second longer. He wasn’t grinning now. There was no humor at all on his face as he started to sing.

  Can’t drink your name

  Off my tongue

  You’re always here

  Sunk in my skin

  All your lies

  Are bleeding through

  Every memory

  I have of you

  And I never said

  I forgive you

  If I could go back

  And change it all

  Where would I even start

  ‘Cause…

  You were never mine to give away

  But, baby, I’ll take the blame

  You dealt a hand I couldn’t play

  Won’t win against a loaded deck

  Can’t count the bridges

  That I burnt

  You threw the fight

  Watched me fail

  All my sins

  Are bleeding through

  Every mile

  Between us two

  So I should just

  Forget you

  If I could go back

  And change it all

  Where would I even start

  ‘Cause…

  You were never mine to give away

  But, baby, I’ll take the blame

  You dealt a hand I couldn’t play

  Won’t win against a loaded deck