Page 47 of The Twisted Beats

He struts away as I think about Lily. I asked her not to use her tongue when she kisses this douchebag, but what if he uses his?

She’s not experienced enough to know how to get him to stop. At least not without her entire crew figuring it out.

My stomach rolls. I reach for my beer and down a third of it. I’ve gotta do something to get my mind off of what’s happening with her.

Bren returns wearing a grin on his face like he just got a blow job. “Here’s your pen.”

“Thanks.” I take it from him. “Sit and let’s brainstorm.”

He gets comfortable and watches me scratch our last names on the napkin. I start rearranging the letters to spell different words.

A combination appears that stops me in my tracks. Mayze plus Hemings together equals Mayhem. Chills crawl over my skin from my legs to the crown of my head.

I pull back and stare at the name of our fucking rock band. He doesn’t have to agree. This is it. I feel it in my bones.

I tap the napkin with the tip of the pen. “Mayhem has a nice sound to it, wouldn’t you say?”

“Fuck yeah. I love it.” Bren smacks his hands, rubbing them together when he does. “That took you less than a minute to come up with.”

“I’m a magician with words. They’re kinda my thing.” I look up and pin him with resolve. “If we start Mayhem, I’llwrite the lyrics. They’ll be nothing like that shit we’ve been singing.”

He leans forward with a shine in his eyes I’ve never seen. “You’ll be the lead singer and backup guitarist. I’ll be lead guitarist and backup vocals. Hell, throw the piano in if you can. Women love when you play.”

“Hawke can be on drums and Cooper on bass.”

Bren sits back. “Fuck, Cash, we just created our band.”

“So you’re in?”

“You know it.”

“That means I’m not wasting my time with Ur Boyz.”

“But what about the people we’ll screw over by leaving?”

“It’s a shit group that isn’t going anywhere. They’re gonna lose sooner or later. The way I see it is the earlier it happens, the better for them.” I pick up my beer and drink.

“How do you figure?”

I place my glass down. “They won’t be using their time and resources on something that’s already buried in a grave. They’ll have a chance to do something that will give them life.”

“Always the philosopher.” He raises his beer. “To creating Mayhem.”

“Now that’s something I can stand behind.” My chest expands and a knowingness sets in. I lift my glass and tap his. “To creating a lot of fucking Mayhem. Let’s burn down the whole fucking world while we do.”

Five hours later, we stumble into his house. The attractive waitress drove us back after her shift ended. She drapes herself over Bren’s shoulder as he lets us in the front door.

“Make yourself at home, Cash.” Bren gestures to the upstairs. “We’ll be in my room.”

“Where are your parents?” I take off my jacket and toss it onto a fancy green velvet bench in the entryway. The floor is white marble with gold veins.

The Hemingses didn’t spare any detail when they built this place. They bought a mansion on the property and promptly tore it down. Mr. Hemings had his company build their dream house, and here I am, standing in the welcoming point of said home.

Bren leads the girl up the circular staircase. “My mom left for a photoshoot in New York this morning. My dad is in San Fran on business until tomorrow.”

“So you and Lily are alone for the night?”

“If not longer,” he hollers when he gets to the upper level. “Like I said, make yourself at home. Nobody is here to stop you from doing whatever you want.”