AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mac was quiet for a few seconds, and then he spoke. “At least over there he’s got an outlet for his anger. He can use it, hone it, and let it eat the pain. Here? It will just fester and grow, and being around Raine won’t help him at all. I’m telling you, it will be ugly when he finally explodes.” Mac looked away. “Trust me. I know what the face of ugly feels like, and the scars don’t ever go away.”
Cain sighed. “It’s too early for this shit.”
“You’re right. Forget I said anything.” Mac moved toward his room. “I’m going to grab my shades, and we should head out to the field.”
He watched Mac disappear and then headed back to his own room for a quick change. There was no point in showering. Not with all he had on his plate today.
He grabbed his cell and tried Maggie’s number, but there was no answer. Shit. He needed to hear her voice. Needed to know that things were going to be all right. He pocketed the cell. He’d have to keep trying.
Twenty minutes later he was on his way to town. As luck would have it—at least the kind of luck that followed him around these days, which was bad—everything was behind schedule. The production equipment and crew didn’t show until nearly two in the afternoon, which was good, considering it took them nearly that long to get the finishing touches in place, the power supply being a major headache. The wattage hadn’t been sufficient as is, but an electrician was called, and the problem was solved. When the heavy cables—long electrical snakes—were finally run, it felt like a small victory.
The volunteers kept their heads down, and no one ribbed him about Hollywood Scene. For that Cain was grateful. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss the fallout. Roger, Tommy’s father, was one of the volunteers, and though Cain wanted to grill him about Michael’s whereabouts and Maggie, he kept quiet. There was no use in putting him on the spot.
The stacks of speakers were put in place, two towers on either side of the stage. The rigging that held the lights was hoisted into the air, across the front of the stage, and a one-row of lighting was placed behind the drum riser.
All the musical acts were to use one set of equipment to make things easy. The amps—Marshall stacks—and the drum kit were ready to go, but it was a slow process getting everything in place, the instruments properly miked, and ready to go.
Texas Willie and his band were helping, as well as several other local acts, including Shady Aces. They were all participating in the fundraiser. It made for a few frustrating moments, and it took Cain’s raised voice, with the reminder that this was a charity event, not an MTV appearance, for the boys to settle in and work together.
When the first note was hit at sound check—his guitar singing out into the gathered crowd—he didn’t feel pleasure as much as relief.
But by then it was nearly six o’clock.
Cain had been trying Maggie’s cell phone the entire day. Not once had she picked up. She didn’t have a landline, so he had no other way of getting in touch with her. The pressure in his chest, that feeling of doom that had dogged him all day, hit hard. He’d tried Raine several times as well and had had no luck there either.
He’d just packed up his Les Paul when he spied Jake.
“I’m heading to Maggie’s now. Sorry to do this again, but can you get Dax back to the lake?”
“I think a bunch of us are heading to the Coach House first, but I’ll make sure he makes it home safe. We wouldn’t want a drunken Brit roaming the streets of Crystal Lake, especially in that getup.”
Dax sat on the edge of the stage with his bass, his fingers flying over the frets as he slapped and pulled the heavy strings. The instrument, one meant for rhythm, sounded melodic in his hands.
He’d kept the horn-rimmed glasses instead of his contacts and once more sported white leather pants, flashy red boots, and a vintage Def Leppard T-shirt. There was a circle of locals close by, mostly women, all of them eyeing the Brit with adoring, shy smiles.
“I don’t think you need to worry about him, Jake.”
“Probably not.” Jake tapped him on the shoulder. “I hope things work out with you and Maggie.”
“Thanks.”
He was starting to panic. Where the hell are you, Maggie?
Chapter 32
“Mom, are you mad at Cain?”
Maggie chewed on her lip as she looked across the table at her son. He’d just shoveled a second helping of meat loaf into his mouth and stared at her expectantly.
What to tell him? He was smart and knew things were wrong. She didn’t want to lie, but the sad fact was that the truth would hurt him. And for the moment, she couldn’t do that to her son.
Not yet, anyway.
She wanted to keep him in that bubble of safety and happiness as long as she could, because she knew in the next little while, t
hose big blue eyes of his would be filled with sadness, confusion, and most likely anger.
Maggie had kept him close today, taken him with her to her clients’ homes. So far he’d been spared the details of the magazine, and she wanted to keep it that way until she had a chance to talk to him about it.
