Lasting Lyric (18 page)

A knock at my bedroom door startles me, erasing my crave. Indie comes walking in with a cup a coffee for me. Bless my baby sister. Coffee is exactly what I need to keep me from having my erotic thoughts about Slim.

Still wearing our PJ’s, slippers, and robes, we both head into the den.
The den of disaster.
Brock is slumped over on the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees, head down, and hands in hair, clearly annoyed or ashamed. Sloane is pacing around the room, furious. Did I mention that Brock never really got along with Sloane, either? Yep. Sloane being the oldest, he could
never do wrong in our parents’ eyes
- Brock’s words, not mine. Brock has always been somewhat of a loner, getting into trouble, but now that he’s making movies, the trouble is escalating.

Indie and I take a seat near the couch. Sloane’s den is made up in a western theme; brown leather couches, chairs, old western movie posters on the walls; a massive built-in dark cherry wood cabinet filled with ceramic horses, a cowboy hat, an old rifle and books. Sloane has always loved western movies, and riding horses. He actually owns a horse in Corona, and goes riding whenever he gets the chance. So yeah, okay, back to the Brock situation.

Coming around from the back of the couch, Sloane ends up in front of Brock, with his hands on his hips. “Cut the Goddamn crap, Brock! Your actions are getting you into some serious trouble.”

“My actions,” Brock exclaims, as he whips his head up. He glares at Sloane. “You think you’re so fucking perfect; the golden boy.”

“Do you even hear yourself right now? I saved your ass last night. You could’ve been arrested!” Sloane shouts.

“But I wasn’t,” Brock shouts back. “I had a few drinks, big deal!”

“A few drinks?” Sloane scoffs. “The owner of that club had to kick you out for your behavior. You were wasted.”

Nothing seems to be getting through his thick head. “This needs to stop, Brock,” I speak up. “You’re digging a very deep hole for yourself.” His glare goes straight through me as well, it was like talking to a brick wall. Shaking my head, I glance over at Indie. She’s a tough cookie, but her big brothers’ mean the world to her. Seeing her eyes glistening, and being extra quiet, it’s evident how painful this situation is for her.

“You don’t get it do you?” Sloane continues. “Our lives are in the public eye. Everything you do or say, the media catches it.”

No matter what, I need to keep stepping in. “Mom and Dad, the whole world, saw the video of you harassing that woman, demeaning her.”

“I didn’t harass anyone,” he groans. “Everyone is making a big deal out of nothing.”

“This is hardly nothing, Brock. It was on a fucking video! It’s now all over the internet, for God’s sake!” Sloane bellows out. He’s so livid, the vein on his forehead looks about ready to burst. He needs to calm down, but I won’t interfere. We all handle anger in a different way. Sloane loves our family so much that it overwhelms him. Unfortunately he comes off as the father figure, and Brock hates it.

“You need some serious help,” I say.

“You want me to go on some celebrity rehab show? That would be classic,” he chuckles.

Okay, now he’s being a complete jerk. Putting my coffee aside on the end table next to me, I stand up, and cross my arms. “You need to grow up, Brock!” I snap.

“No, everyone just needs to chill, and to stay out of my business.”

“We just love you, Brock. We want to help,” Indie pleads. As much as I know she wants to cry, Indie keeps her composure, yet the look in her eyes should be enough for Brock to realize what it’s doing her. To all of us.

Brushing a hand through his short, out of control hair, Brock comes over to Indie. He kneels before her, taking her face into his hands. “Love you too, baby sis, but I don’t need help. I’m good. You don’t have to worry about me.” He kisses her forehead. “Goin’ back to bed.” Without another word, he walks out of the den.

“Brock,” Sloane yells after him.

“Let him go,” Indie sighs.

“It’s no use, Sloane,” I add. “He doesn’t want our help. There’s nothing we can do.”

Hands still planted on his hips, and the protruding vein still very much noticeable, Sloane responds, “I’m done, then. I’m done getting him out of his shit. Next time, I’ll let the cops take him.”

Soon after, Sloane leaves the den, leaving behind me and Indie with a feeling of defeat. This meeting did not go as planned, and didn’t make a dent in our strong headed brother. As much as I want to leave, and go back to San Diego, I can’t. I’m not so sure things are finished between us and Brock. I’ll stay, just in case Sloane wants to talk some more. Ditching my family isn’t something I can do right now.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Indie and I went out and did some sisterly shopping, down in Beverly Hills. After our shopping spree, and eating a huge lunch, a nap was in order. Indie decided to go home to her place. She had had enough of Brock, and didn’t want to be involved anymore. I can’t say that I blamed her. Our family intervention was a bust. But Sloane, being who he is, wasn’t going to give up that easily. He may have said he’s done rescuing our brother, but deep down he’s a savior. He wants so badly to make things better. Plus, he’s tired of our name being in the headlines every week. He’s tired of being asked about Brock during TV interviews, or the paparazzi hounding him. Being oldest of the family sucks for Sloane.

I hadn’t spoken to Slim all day, but we have sent a few texts, and a couple silly Snapchat selfies/videos to one another. He makes me laugh with his Snapchat
stuff. Never a dull moment. Even though we can’t be together in person, it’s nice I can at least see what he’s doing online. Thank God Slim loves social media, I wouldn’t know anything if it weren’t for that. Same for him. My Snapchat and Twitter are filled with my day with Indie.

Later that afternoon, my business phone ringing wakes me from my nap. Since I hadn’t slept great last night, the nap was short but did help me feel more rested. Wiping the sleep out of my eyes, and taking a little stretch, I reach for my phone. Whoever called me left a message. A woman, with a raspy, smoker’s voice begins to speak. “Hey there, my name’s Violet Ray, and I’m the lead singer for Ray’s of Darkness. I’m lookin’ for a new manager for the band. Mine blows, and needs to be chucked. Heard you were a cool chick, and could help us out. Call me so we can talk. Laters.”

Violet Ray
? I’m familiar with Ray’s of Darkness, they were internationally known for a couple songs, back in the early nineties. But why on earth would Violet Ray want to talk with me? I thought the band had broken up years ago? This is strange. It’s unusual for me to get calls from other bands, since I work strictly through BT2090 and
JINKS
. I’ll give June a call and see if she knows anything about this
Violet Ray
. But first, I need to use the bathroom.

After I finished with my business, I sit down on my bed and call June. “June, hi, did some woman, Violet Ray get in contact with you? She’s with a band called Ray’s of Darkness.”

“Yeah, just yesterday. I told her you weren’t available to hire, though.”

“Hmmm, okay, well…she just now left me a voicemail, wanting to talk.”

“What? Well, that’s strange.”

“It is.” The whole message was strange, actually. You’re probably thinking, since I’m a band manager, it’s not uncommon for me to get other bands wanting me to work for them. However, there was something off about this Violet Ray. I can’t pinpoint it, but my instincts have never let me down. “I’ll give her a call back this week. Thanks June.”

“Not a problem. Hey, will I see you anytime this week, or are you staying up in LA?”

“I’ll be home in a couple days.” It’s Faith’s birthday party this coming weekend. I cannot miss that.

“Okay, cool. So I’ll see you then.”

“Absolutely!”

“Cool beans!”

We talked for a few more minutes about the party, then said goodbye when I noticed the time. Sloane texted me earlier, wanting to have dinner together. Brock was no longer at the house. He didn’t tell either one of us he was leaving, but that didn’t surprise me. Brock was going to do what Brock wanted to do, and we couldn’t stop him. It looked like dinner just for two was in order.

“How did it today go,” I ask.

“Rough start in the beginning, but once we got our shit together, we began sailing again.”

It feels so good, lying down in bed, talking with Slim. All day I’ve been anxious to know how his first day back in the studio went. “Good. I bet it felt good to be back inside the studio?”

“It felt fucking great!” He exclaims. His enthusiasm makes me smile. “So glad to be back at work.”

“I’m glad you’re back too. So, how’s Wayne? Was he jetlagged?”

“A little, but he was ready to be back too. God it felt so good, Charlie,” he expresses.

The smile appearing in his voice is infectious. “I’m happy that you’re happy.” If only I was beside him, I could see the smile on his face. We should be doing Facetime, instead. “Did you show the guys your song?”

“Nah. I’m not ready for that yet. Just want it to be kept secret for now.”

“My lips are zipped.”

A lowly growl is heard on the other end. “Better not be zipped when they’re on my lips…and among other things,” he teases.

Sinking further under my covers, I tease back, “I haven’t gone down that route yet, but I’ll be sure to remember that.”

“That route is long, hard, and itchin’ for your trip.” His sexy comeback only makes me that much wetter.

I really hate that we’re apart right now. Nothing can be done about Brock. My parents’ couldn’t get through to him either. He got defensive and hung up on them. The whole mini trip up here was useless.

There’s a pause between us. Just like me, he’s feeling the separation. We’re both lonely and aching to be together. “You’re feeling it too, huh,” I quietly ask.

“Damn, yes I do,” he sighs. “I miss you in my bed. The pillow is not the best cuddler.”

He’s so cute. I’m surprised he didn’t find my little treasure of silky undies, buried underneath his pillow. I’ll just ask. “Didn’t you find my little present under the pillow? I left you something.”

“No. What -” I hear him shuffling, until he moans out, “Ah, hellz me. You’re playing with fire, Sunshine, leaving your party goods as an incentive. Love it. Now I’ll sleep better tonight.”

Giggling, I reply, “Good.”

“So, what happened with Brock this morning?”

As much as I want to ignore this change of topic, I can’t. “Not much luck,” I sigh. “He’s in denial about his drinking, and what happened last night. Sloane was beside himself with fury. I’ve never seen him so angry. Our brother is a loose canon, and I’m afraid something bad is going to happen, and he’ll end up in jail if he keeps this up. But you can’t help someone who clearly doesn’t want it.”

“Gotta make mistakes in life to learn sometimes,” Slim comments.

“Yep,” I sigh, yet again. “Unfortunately, our family is going to be in the headlines a lot more than usual.”

“Comes with the territory.”

Shaking my head, and rolling my eyes, I say, “I know. I just hate it, that’s all. You’d think I’d be used to being in the tabloids. It never gets easier.” Ever since I could remember our family has been in the spotlight. At first it was all about my parents’, how the public couldn’t get enough of them. They got together during a film they were filming. My dad was married to someone else, at the time, yet got romantically involved with my mom. I heard it was the tornado of all celebrity tornados. Glad I wasn’t born when it all happened. Nevertheless, it seems our lives have always been a fascination to the entire world.

“Now that you’re with me, you’ll be all over the place.”

Very true, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Just like he said, it comes with the territory. “As long as it’s with me, and not with some hoochie mama, I’ll be fine,” I tease.

“No hoochie mamas or porchpussies allowed. Only you.”

God, this man.
Slim language never ceases to amaze me. “I love how you think.”