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Chapter Twelve
Scott
Had I known telling Lacy the truth would be this freeing, I wouldn’t have been scared shitless to tell her who I was. The month since it all came out has been better than anything I could have ever imagined.
Never have I felt this connected to another person in all my life.
“He lives!” Geoff clomps into my apartment, not bothering to knock. It’s cool, though. We knew he was coming, so Lacy and I are fully clothed for once. It doesn’t happen often.
Geoff looks like complete shit. His normally dark skin is ashen, eyes bloodshot. He’s always been the biggest of the four of us, tall and imposing with muscles on his muscles. But he’s lost weight since I saw him last at the end of our tour.
We do that back-slapping hug that lets us maintain our masculinity while showing another dude affection and break apart. I cough, the odor of cheap liquor and even cheaper perfume overwhelming me until my eyes water.
“So, this is what’s kept you in hiding, huh?” My drummer, and one of my best friends, gives Lacy a slow perusal up and down her body, and I slap him upside the head for checking out my woman. “Damn, if I had a piece of tail like that, and I’d never leave the house either.”
I’m about to put him in his place when Lacy speaks first. “If you had a piece of tail like me, you’d be required to shower more than once a month, brush your hair, and buy some clothes that didn’t smell like cheap whiskey. So, it’s best my tail stays where it is. For both our sakes.”
I swear Geoff’s jaw is on the floor. Recovering quickly, he rears back with a deep laugh. “Okay, so the stuck-up princess is all yours.” His meaty hand claps down on my shoulder before he goes walking back to the studio to set up his kit the way he likes it. I watch as he disappears, concern sinking like an anchor in my gut. Geoff has always been wild, the first to start a party and the last to leave, usually with at least one woman on his arm. But the last tour was different. He was drunk or high more than he was sober.
I have to talk with Brandt about what’s going on with our friend and bandmate. Our fearless leader will know what to do.
The whole band is coming over for our first session in months now that the new studio is done. Lacy’s going to be taking some pictures and clips for social media, which she’s now handling for the whole band. Turned out our PR team was loyal to the record company, so we had to find a replacement fast. Lacy was more than happy to help out with the social stuff, and she recommended a guy to handle press and tours.
With the help of my lawyer, Lacy was able to set up a corporation so she could start charging for her services again. We never did hear back from that fucking agent who showed her the pictures, so her accounts are still on lockdown. It doesn’t even matter anymore. We’re moving on.
I throw my arm around Lacy and pull her in for a kiss. We keep it short and PG-rated since Geoff is lurking around the place. “I love that you just put him in his place. One more thing to add to the list.”
“I love that you were about five seconds from beating up one of your oldest friends for me. But there is no need. I can tell Geoff is about as threatening as a Saint Bernard.”
“Yeah, but I drool less.” The fucker waltzes back in and goes straight for the fridge. He grumbles about the lack of booze, and I just shrug. Finally picking out a sports drink, he comes back over to us. “So, when’s everyone else getting here?”
As if his words conjure the missing half of the band, the sound of heavy fists on my metal door echo through the loft. At least Brandt and Liam have the courtesy to knock, unlike Geoff.
Lacy lets them in and suddenly, our normally peaceful place is filled with cursing rock stars. “Motherfucker, you look like shit, Geoff.” Liam, our tall, lanky bassist with long red hair punches Geoff’s arm and the drummer simply shrugs him off, sipping from the sports drink in his hand.
Brandt doesn’t miss the interaction and I make sure to catch his eye, silently communicating my worry about Geoff. He nods and I know we’ll be having a discussion later when we’re alone.
It wasn’t by accident our band was picked out of the hundreds worldwide that have dreams of making it big. The truth is, Brandt is the reason we’re here at all. Well, Brandt and his face. And his abs. He’s the shortest of us all but still stands at a respectable six-foot-two. Hes obsessive about working out and has the body to prove it, which he takes every opportunity to remind us of when he takes off his shirt for every single fucking photoshoot. He’s also the prettiest man in metal.
As teenagers, we played at Liam’s dad’s bar. It didn’t take long before our pretty Chinese lead singer got noticed by the local women. They would bring their friends and their boyfriends to see us play. A few months in and a record exec got dragged in by his wife. The rest went down in rock and roll history.
Brandt and I have always taken the leading role in the band. Partly because we were the first two to come up with the idea. Partly because we are the two oldest. But mostly because Geoff is too much of a mess and Liam is too much of a loner to step up to the plate when it came to big decisions.
That night I saved Lacy from the attack was the last night the band was together. Our last show with the record company. The future stretches out in front of us as free agents, and despite it being scary as fuck, we’re excited to see where we go without being shackled by a bunch of pencil pushers.
“What do you say, fuckers?” Everyone stops their discussions and turns to face me. “Should we record some music?” The guys yell out affirmations, and we head back to the studio. Happiness like I’ve never known flows through my soul. I got my arm around my girl, my band at my back, and music swirling in my head, begging to be let out into the world.
It’s six hours later, and we finally decide to take a break. Lacy stuck it out for the first two hours, but once we get in the creative space, the rest of the world fades from around the band. Brandt raids my fridge rubbing his washboard abs and complaining he hasn’t had protein in hours. Liam starts order from every takeout place in a ten-block radius. Geoff disappears out the door mumbling something about needing a smoke, even though we all know he is probably off in search of a drink, or something harder. I push aside my concerns about Geoff and go in search of my brat.
Maybe I can convince her to lift her skirt and let me lick her pussy while she bends over the desk. The office is soundproofed, which works out so we don’t bug her while we’re playing, but also means they won’t hear my making my girl cum. Playing always makes me horny. Something I ignored when I was celibate. But now I’ve got Lacy to unleash the passion that builds up in my body while strumming out new chords.
She’s not in the loft. Or the office. She never goes out on the balcony, something about protecting her skin from aging prematurely. But I check anyway. Brandt comes lumbering after me, holding a piece of paper in his hand.
“Hey, man, she’s not here. Left you a note.” He hands me the paper filled with her precise handwriting when the doorbell rings. “Fuck, your takeout places are fast. I’m eating here more often.”
Before we can make it to the door, Geoff jogs back into the living room, leaving the door open behind him.
For some reason, my heart feels like it is trying to climb out of my throat as I read Lacy’s note.
