AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“They’ve got to leave it alone.” This was her nice way of saying Aspen had to stop putting his hands on anyone who said anything about King. “The press will move on. A new story will take over if you give it time.” Ma had heard it all. We’d had our share of bad press cycles, so she had a good idea of how it worked.
“I know, but I can’t say that to him.” ‘Calm down, it will blow over’ would not go over well with Aspen.
“Want me to talk to him?” she asked.
“Noooooo.” I laughed.
“Talk to me about what?” Aspen stood in the doorway looking between us.
“About why you don’t come home no more when you guys are on breaks.” Years of covering for my father had paid off for Ma. She was quick as a whip and always ready to deflect. Age hadn’t affected it one bit.
“Calling me out already?” Aspen kissed Ma’s cheek, then half sat on the arm of the sofa. “I haven’t even had one of your cookies.”
* * *
How far we’ve come and how life had changed. The less than five-mile ride to Fenway took twice as long as it should. We could have walked faster, but the city buzzed with our presence.
Preparing to play Fenway to just under forty thousand people felt surreal. It wasn’t the first time, but something about this felt different. The park sat across the street from where we started. The House of Blues had replaced Spit, and the Rat had long been demolished, but the ground still held memories of our origin.
I fought off makeup and our stylists while our opening band played, trying to figure out where Aspen had disappeared to. He’d been weird since we left Ma’s place and wouldn’t give me a straight answer to any of my inquiries about his mood.
It felt like he was avoiding me, which was never a good sign.
“Where’s your brother?” I asked Kingsley.
He glanced around and shrugged before going back to his phone. “I haven’t seen him.”
“Did something happen today?” I wouldn’t clip words. I needed to know what to expect from him on stage.
“What do you mean?” Kingsley turned off his phone and focused on me.
“He’s been acting weird since he got to Ma’s, so I’m wondering if something happened with yours.” I didn’t think I could be more blunt than that. Kingsley and I had a long rapport taking care of Aspen, though, so this wasn’t an unusual line of questioning.
His brows pulled. “I can’t think of anything. He didn’t stay long.”
“What was he picking up?”
“I don’t know.” Kingsley shoved his phone into his pocket. “He’s probably fine. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”
“Okay.” I wanted to believe Kingsley. He knew his brother well, but something told me there was more. After all the stress Aspen had over Kingsley, it felt like he might be downplaying it.
I made a tour of the place, looking for him in all the usual hideouts. The areas he’d slink off to do a line or smoke a joint. After twenty years, I’d found him in all sorts of places with a myriad coping mechanisms.
No luck. We were on in fifteen, so I made my way back to the dressing room when a tight ass caught my attention.
Fishnets.
Damn.
She bent over in the low light between sets, messing with one of the pedals. Long legs led into a green skirt that barely covered her ass. Who the fuck was she? Our crew was a pretty tight-knit group, and I knew all of them. Was she new or someone we were borrowing? I thought about introducing myself, but there was an unspoken rule about fraternizing with those who toured with us.
You don’t shit where you eat, and that was the end. We protected the women in the industry because so many guys were cunts to them. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t stare—respectfully—not like a creep. She straightened up, letting her slightly above the shoulder-length hair back. There was a tinge of color to it, and it made me frown. I knew that color.
Her hip popped out as our guitar tech, Steve, spoke to her. Maybe she was an intern. He liked to give youngsters in the industry a chance to learn the business.
She put her hand on her hip, revealing chipping black polish, and I took out one of my ears to hear what she was saying, but I couldn’t make it out, only hearing Aspen. I glanced around but didn’t see him. He must be out of view on the side stage or something.
She bent over again, fucking with the pedal. Her skirt rode up, revealing the bottom curve of her ass. I groaned, getting hard. The guy I used to be wanted to whistle or catcall her, but this long in the punk scene had stomped that guy out of me, knowing the things we learned from our fathers were sometimes the worst lessons.
