Trey

by Madden, A. M.

  How could I blame Jack, Leila, or any of them for treating me like a child? I’d hurt them, and I’d made it my one and only purpose to try to never let them down again.

  “Oh, wife of mine!”

  “Uh-oh,” Leila said as Jack trotted over while laughing his ass off.

  “We are in need of an ice pack.”

  “What happened?”

  “Hunter took a shot to the nuts.” We followed his sight line to where Hunter was doubled over as Scott and Leila’s brother, Evan, laughed their asses off while the rest of the soccer game went on around them.

  “It’s a good thing his balls aren’t needed to successfully play the drums,” I said, causing Jack to laugh harder as Leila smacked me. “Oh, come on, Little Lair. That was funny.”

  In typical fashion, she again rolled her eyes just before reaching over and taking my hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Trey.”

  “Like you ever gave me a choice.”

  Chapter 2

  Trey

  Come Monday morning, I couldn’t help the smile that spread as I watched the DVD of the first Devil’s Lair performance after Leila joined the band. Lately I’d been starting my day watching those concert clips to remind me of the man I once was. It also helped me remember the connections I had to those who loved me. Sad that I needed reminders at all.

  My gaze fixated on the cocky smart-ass on stage, dark shades in place, black T-shirt, black jeans, black boots. The only colors found on me were from all the tattoos that the spotlight accentuated when it skimmed over them.

  I could always make that bass guitar come to life with little effort. As an extension of me, it was my tool for seduction, and I used its full potential.

  The camera angles changed, focusing on Jack as he sang front and center for a few long minutes. The shot then flipped to Leila on keyboards, Hunter on drums, Scott on guitar, and finally back to me. That predictable surge of hunger that playing live on stage always created intensified as the camera swept over so many faces mouthing the words, screaming their appreciation. Chants of my name, or Jack’s, could be heard despite the loud music. Occasionally a faint Hunter or Scott would audibly filter through the thick air.

  I smirked when girls reached for Jack’s leg in a futile attempt to connect with their fantasy as his dimpled grin spread when he looked back to witness Leila’s exasperated reaction.

  That tour seemed like a lifetime ago. In actuality it was, because what I had experienced since then, both in tragedy and triumph, most people would never get a taste of in their lives.

  We all looked so young, so clueless. Yet even before we hit fame, we had it in spades. That it factor was what made us rock stars. Anyone with a brain could see during that first show of our first tour it was only a matter of time before the world caught on.

  Back then I had no fucks to give when it came to emotions. The guys let me be, let me come and go as I pleased, and those parameters suited me just fine.

  It allowed me to act the role of a promiscuous rock star. I was able to coast through my fame while reaping the monetary benefits. I was able to connect with a woman on my terms through meaningless encounters. I was able to control my heart in the same way.

  The truth was, love caught up with me. Once it did, I gorged on the way it made me feel, and now that it was gone, I was lonely as fuck. Yet I’d rather that than to experience any more debilitating heartbreak. If I could’ve gone one further, I’d rather not have loved at all. Having a lonely heart was most definitely the lesser of two evils over having a ruined one.

  A buzzing from the intercom interrupted my thoughts. Right on time, as usual. I shut the TV off and grabbed my guitar case before making my way down to the lobby.

  “Hello, Mr. Taylor.”

  “Morning, Carl. How they hanging?”

  The old man’s cheeks reddened at my typical crassness. “Much lower these days, unfortunately.” I grimaced at the TMI, but hey, I asked.

  Carl was a good man and took a liking to me when I’d moved in a year ago. As much as I loved my old place, I’d needed out of that tomb of memories. Tara was everywhere, yet nowhere. Her scent was gone, the sound of her laugh no longer echoed between the walls, but there wasn’t an inch of space that didn’t remind me of her.

  This place was nice and sterile, free of ghosts.

  “Well, have a great day,” I offered. With a warm smile, he dipped his hat before I sauntered out toward the black Escalade idling at the curb.

  No sooner had my ass hit the plush leather back seat than Leila turned and handed me a steaming cup of coffee. “Hey,” she said with a brilliant smile.

  “Morning, Little Lair.” Jack shifted into drive and pulled into traffic as I added, “Thanks for taking care of me.”

  “It’s not morning,” Jack chided. “And you’re like her fifth child.”

  “You’re just jealous she likes me better. Don’t I get props for being on time?”

  “Yeah, I’m impressed we only had to buzz once,” he grumbled reluctantly. Usually, getting downstairs involved a round of relentless intercom buzzes, a phone call or two, and a threat to beat the shit out of me if I didn’t move my ass.

  “Aw, come on. Your average is at least eight or nine attempts. I deserve major props.” When Leila twisted her head to look back at me, I winked.

  Although, since Jack and Leila had fired our old agent, Jen Baxter, left our record label, and opened their own production company, our crack-of-dawn meetings had been moved to a much more respectable hour. That bitch had hated me and dragged our asses to the studio at the most ungodly hours just to bust my balls.

  Now that she was gone, we were all a lot less cranky. Regarding Jack’s new role as our boss, I didn’t doubt that his newfound patience for me had more to do with my recent meltdown. Every now and again, they all appeared to walk on eggshells when around me. I guessed based on how close they’d come to attending my funeral, they had the right to be cautious.

  Using my go-to attempt of adding humor to give them hope that the old Trey wasn’t far, I said, “Hey, Little Lair. What do you call a virgin lying on a waterbed?”

  Jack’s eyes found mine in the rearview mirror as I waited for her to concede. “What, Trey?” she said through a sigh.

  “A cherry float.”

  Jack cracked first, and then his wife followed. “How do you remember all those awful jokes?”

  “It’s a gift.”

  We fell into a comfortable silence as the traffic reporter droned on, covering all the accidents clogging every bridge and tunnel in and out of the city. The ride to the studio was short. Of course, we were early since Mr. Anal needed to be the first one there. I got that he was now more than just the front man to our band. He and Leila had put a lot of time and money into JLL Productions and had a lot to lose if it failed.

  Jack parked in the studio’s underground private lot before the three of us filed into the elevator. The smell of the fresh coat of paint still permeated the air. We’d moved into this location only a few weeks ago. Jack and Leila wanted a building that could hold studios of different sizes, office space for their growing staff, and state-of-the-art security measures to ensure we could all come and go without being detected by the public.

  I had to admit it was a safe haven for me.

  As the doors opened to reveal Lori and Cannon sitting on the leather couch in the lobby, Jack grumbled.

  “Ha ha. We beat you in,” Lori quipped with a sly smile. She enjoyed pushing Jack’s buttons more than I did.

  “Hey,” Leila said, hugging first Lori and then Cannon.

  “Want a gold star?” Jack countered while clapping hands with Cannon, one of JLL Productions’ clients.

  Today we were having a meeting to discuss our next album and tour. For the past year or so, Jack and Leila had focused on signing new talent, one being Cannon Davis. He had actually joined them on their last tour, the same one I had been MIA during. Evan, Leila’s brother, filled in for me. Toward the last leg, I’d sho
wn up without warning and surprised the fuck out of my band. I’d never forget the look on their faces when I sauntered on stage, without any notice, after being gone for months.

  Once we got home, we chilled and regrouped. Jack and Leila claimed they needed the break to get JLL off and running. I suspected they really just wanted to give me time to get better.

  “Hey, Lor.” I assessed the redhead, whom at one time I had been very close to. “You look great.”

  “Thanks, Trey.” She tilted her head with a sad smile. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m good.” Even though she and Cannon had moved to Manhattan from LA a while ago, our relationship remained a bit strained.

  Moving my gaze to Cannon, I offered my hand. “Nice to see you again, man.”

  “Same here,” he said with a genuine smile. Coincidentally, the dude was my ex’s client/boyfriend. Yes, Lori Banzini and I were once a thing… or more specifically two people who were all about hot, kinky, mind-blowing sex. In fact, I wasn’t sure our brief sexual affair qualified to be labeled a relationship.

  After my overdose, Lori, who worked for our old label, LRV Media, decided she needed a change and moved to Los Angeles. While already dealing with me and my issues, this only added to Leila’s angst. That same tenacious redhead also happened to have been Leila’s best friend.

  In the long run, it served to be a great move for Lori. While there, she’d discovered Cannon. They’d started a personal relationship at that time, and, thanks to some shit our old agent, Jen, had pulled trying to get Lori fired, had set into motion the chain of events that had led to Devil’s Lair leaving LRV. It was right around that time when Jack and Leila had decided to control their own destiny. Once that decision was made, before even building their staff, they’d hired Lori and signed Cannon as their first client.

  From what I’ve heard, he was making a mark in the music scene. Jack and Leila were impressed and wanted Cannon to open for us when we headed out on our next tour.

  It had taken a while for Cannon to warm to me, so to speak. Knowing I fucked his girl didn’t bode well in making a connection. Knowing I broke her heart hadn’t helped either. We had been about to head out on our first tour, which had been the reason I gave when ending it with her. But what really had me running was the telltale signs she had developed feelings for me.

  At that time in my life, before Tara came along, any woman indicating it was more than just physical made my decision to move on a simple one.

  Tara had changed that.

  Thinking of my wife caused the familiar sadness to pinch deep in my gut. Before my thoughts took a serious turn for the worse, I excused myself from the foursome to refresh my coffee.

  An hour later, Jack looked around the crowded table and grinned. “That wasn’t so bad,” he said, commenting on how smoothly our first official meeting under JLL Productions had gone.

  It was hard to believe we had all agreed on a preliminary recording and tour schedule for the following year so quickly. Normally, the discussion would go on for hours as we all put in our two cents on what we envisioned the tour to be. Of course, Jen being the drama queen she was had also made the process more difficult by arguing every damn point we made.

  “I have to give props where props are due,” I said as all eyes landed on me. “You’re not as bitchy as she who shall not be named.”

  “We haven’t witnessed him on the road yet,” Hunter quipped with a frown. “I lived with him, and his inner diva is never far from the surface.”

  “Fuck off,” Jack flipped, along with the finger.

  “Ah, it’s good to be back to normal.” Leila paused while she stared at us one at a time. “But if you boys start bickering like you did on the last tour, I will lose it.” Only then having realized how that sounded, she quickly added, “I’m sorry, Trey. I didn’t mean to…”

  “Chill, Little Lair. All good.”

  The last tour she referred to had been filled with shadows from my personal situation. That felt like ages ago, when I’d suffered with extreme anxiety while wondering if I was ready to return to my old life. Physically, I’d been in great shape… clean, sober, and more fit than I’d ever been. However, mentally, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready.

  My therapist, Dr. Rutherford, had drilled into my skull the tragedy I endured would forever be a part of me. What was important was learning to work through the severe stages of depression. It was a long process during which life shouldn’t stall. Integrating methods of healing while continuing to live was as important as the journey itself.

  Because Leila still looked distraught over her unintended blunder, I added, “Just pretend we all had an extended case of PMS. Speaking of…” The hesitant expression slowly began to slip off her face when she realized what came next. “Know what a six-point-nine is?”

  “This should be good,” Scott said.

  “Just another good thing screwed up by a period.” Everyone laughed, including Lori and Cannon, as Leila fought to hide her amusement. “Come on… you can do it.” At hearing that, she lost the battle and grinned. “Good girl.”

  “Anyway…” Leila shuffled the pile of papers on the table. “I’ll have my assistant, Haven, type these all up and send them over to Dylan and Krista.”

  “I thought they were supposed to be here?” Lori asked.

  “They were, but something came up with the move.” Besides Lori, Jack and Leila had also stolen our tour manager and his wife, our PR rep, away from LRV. They had since hired a small staff who run the production end of the business, allowing them to focus on our music. “We’ll meet up again once they get here next week. I’ll have the contracts prepared for you to sign by then to kill two birds with one stone.” Leila glanced at Cannon next. “I know technically you’ve been with JLL for a while now, but we never properly welcomed you.”

  “Look at you trying to be coy,” Lori razzed.

  Leila smirked at her friend but ignored her comment. “So… we’re having a party at Granite tonight in Cannon’s honor.” She shifted her eyes to me, holding my gaze. “Trey’s idea.”

  It was on my insistence we were celebrating there at all. As she had with the last few get-togethers, Leila wanted to have everyone at their place to avoid tempting me with a bar scene. I’d spent three therapy sessions discussing the challenge of being there and how I would handle it before I mentioned it to my band. Until then, they spared me from situations that could cause my old habits to return. Leila was understandably concerned.

  Lori picked up on our exchange but chose to remain silent. Everyone around the table knew how hard it would be for me.

  Oblivious to the underlying concern, Cannon jumped in and said, “Wow, that’s really nice of you. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Yeah, guys. That is really nice. We look forward to it.” Lori replaced the concern with a gracious smile.

  “Who said you’re invited?” Leila zinged her back, breaking the tension… and I’d never been prouder of my friend.

  Chapter 3

  Trey

  After leaving the studio, I called my therapist and asked if he could squeeze me in for a session. Even though I’d just had one a few days ago, the party for Cannon had me feeling anxious. Getting through tonight would be difficult in so many ways. Granite had been our stomping ground for years, the place we partied, thus an ultimate temptation.

  But Granite was also where we’d gotten our start in the New York City bar scene. It was all due to Hunter booking us to play there early in our careers that had many noticing our talent. The social hot spot was as big a part of my journey as moving to New York had been.

  We celebrated birthdays and engagements there. We’d played for our closest friends and family before embarking on our first tour. At times, Jack and Leila would still arrange DL to play there for charitable organizations they supported.

  Now that I was back with the band, I needed to reintegrate Granite into my life. In fact, living as a successful musi
cian meant there would be plenty of triggers I’d have to deal with. Until now, not trusting myself had me shying away from party invites. Dr. Rutherford felt it was time. I had come a long way this past year, but I still had a long way to go. By the time I walked out of his office, I felt all talked out on the subject.

  With the clock ticking down, and anxiety flapping hard in my gut, I forced myself to get ready for the party.

  When my driver texted me that he had arrived, I locked up and headed down to the lobby. I was still trying to get used to not jumping on one of my bikes and taking off. I hadn’t ridden since… well, it’d been a long time. I wasn’t sure I could ever get myself on a motorcycle again. Just another hurdle during my recovery, and with so many that I faced I was mentally exhausted all the time.

  “Good evening, Mr. Taylor.” Not in the mood to talk, I offered a wave to the new guy at the desk.

  Just as I walked out the front doors, a woman stepped away from the wall and said, “Trey Taylor.” Before she went into full fan-girl mode, I nodded at her and quickened my step toward my waiting ride. “You don’t remember me,” she then said, pulling my attention back toward where she remained. Maybe it was her rigid stance or the way worry painted lines on her pretty face that had me stopping to study her. “Not that I expected you to.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I’m Camilla Deron. We met during a backstage meet and greet when your band played out on Jones Beach about seven years ago,” she added quietly while nervously fidgeting with the strap of her handbag. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember who she was. I wasn’t proud to say the women I’d hooked up with over the years had all become a faceless pack. But the more I stared at her, the more familiar she seemed. I think it was her dark-brown eyes, the kind any man could get lost in.