by Daya Daniels
“What the fuck is going on?” I mumble to myself and let out a sigh.
I head back to the bedroom and turn on the television, scrolling right to CNN news. The headline reads, “Cash Warren, Lead Singer for The Vigilantes, found dead in his Las Vegas, Nevada hotel.”
I cover my mouth with a shaky hand, attempting to control my rapidly spiking heart rate. This was real. It was all real. Cash was dead.
I settle on E News and rush over to pick up my cellphone, turn it on and watch as it fills with hundreds of messages.
“We awoke to the very sad news this morning of the passing of The Vigilantes’ lead singer, Cash Warren, in Las Vegas, Nevada,” the woman says. “This unfortunate event has occurred in the middle of the band’s sold out RIOT tour, that was set to end in Anaheim, California just next week.
“The band just also signed a multi-million-dollar contract with Rogue Records,” the woman tsks.
“The Vigilantes had to cancel their show last night that was set at the MGM Grand Garden Arena. The fans were not pleased and neither were event organizers as you can imagine. We are told the reason for the cancellation was because Cash Warren at the time couldn’t be located. It is now suspected that he was deceased at that time.”
“This is so sad, gosh. Have they released a statement yet to explain the cause of death?” the man standing next to her asks.
The woman grimaces. “No, they haven’t but people that were close to Cash Warren knew that he was a heavy drug user.” She sighs and shakes her head. “I mean we hope this is not what took his life but one can only suspect.”
The pair look solemnly into the camera. “Fans have gathered outside of Warren’s hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada to lay flowers and pay their respects. This is so unfortunate. He was only twenty-three years old. Our condolences go out to Cash Warren’s family and friends at this difficult time.”
I shut off the television and cry.
Liv
A memorial service was held for Cash in Hollywood a week later, at the funeral home that took care of his cremation. The cause of death was determined as a heroin overdose, which didn’t come as much of a surprise. The rest of the band were holding up well but Zane wasn’t. I felt like I couldn’t break into his head to find out what was going on in there. Hundreds of people attended, including a few individuals that I knew Cash had assaulted during the RIOT tour, which I found a little funny.
After the gathering, people lingered around talking and paying their last respects. I took that time to take a walk in the gardens on the property. I head down the windy stone paths and stop when I reach a bush of yellow roses. I run my fingers over the petals and admire two butterflies that flutter around.
I spin around when I hear sniffles.
Rachel approaches, holding a tissue to her nose. Her eyes are watery and red. I give her a sympathetic look. She gestures for me to follow her to a beautiful rotunda surrounded by lilies. I take a seat next to her but we don’t speak. She looks as though she’s gained a bit of weight and she’s allowing her natural chestnut hair color to come through.
“I like this,” I compliment, touching a strand.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I think it looks better.”
“Cash didn’t like it.”
“I think it looks good.” I smile.
“Thanks.
“I broke up with him.”
I narrow my eyes and look at Rachel. “Cash.”
She tips her head forward a few times, while tears instantly pour from her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“I broke up with him the night he died, Liv. This is my fault. He was so angry.”
“What do you mean? Did he know about Barry?”
“No. I don’t know,” she mumbles.
I take a deep breath. “It was an accident, Rachel. An accident.”
Rachel’s brown eyes bulge out at me. “I don’t know, Liv. He was so hurt. Cash does crazy things. I don’t know. He knew how to shoot up. But the amount he did it with, I don’t know. He must’ve known it would kill him.”
I’m stunned speechless and I truly don’t know what to say. I pull Rachel into me while she cries and think. I didn’t know Cash for very long before he died. He was so larger than life—always laughing and joking around. He didn’t seem as sad as I used to feel, but I guess you never really know.
“This is my fault,” she says again.
“It isn’t. It was an accident.”
Rachel sits straight and wipes her eyes again. “I just wish I could do it over you know. I did love him. Cash loved me too but not in the way I needed. I’m tired of just taking the bullshit people give to me, you know. I want to be happy.”
I only nod listening to her.
“I’ve always let people mistreat me, Liv. Barry’s nice to me. He even asked me to marry him,” she whispers. “I haven’t told him what I think yet.”
My eyes widen. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” she says looking out towards the garden. “Barry’s a nice, normal guy. He makes me want to be better, you know. I’ve stopped using and I’m growing my hair out. I’ve even gained a little weight.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
She smiles. “Thanks.” Rachel drops her head in her lap. “Cash and I were like
poison to each other. All we did was make each other crazy.” She sniffles. “It wasn’t good.”
I let out a soft breath, watching a crowd gather on the patio across the garden. Rachel stands when Barry waves her over. I follow a few feet behind her but come to a complete stop when Stanton grips my forearm.
“Dad,” I say breathlessly, somewhat surprised to see him.
“Hello, honey.” He kisses my cheek. “You look good.”
Audrey approaches behind him and pulls me into a hug. “Hello, Liv, honey.”
“Hi, Mom,” I say eyeing over the tight dress she’s wearing that has to have cut off her circulation long ago.
Her breasts are nearly falling over the top and she’s struggling to stand in her five-inch heels. She looks like a demented Barbie.
“What are you doing here?”
“We came to pay our respects, of course,” Stanton says.
Audrey nods.
“Oh.”
“How have you been?” Audrey asks.
“Good, I guess.”
“That’s good, honey.”
Another couple edge closer to us and pull my mother aside to make small talk. Stanton places his hand on my shoulder and guides me a few feet away from everyone.
“I need to talk to you.”
I give him a strange look, taking in the worry lines on his face. I take in the scent of the expensive cologne he always wears.
“I’ve been told that Presley wants out of the band. He’s already had his lawyers speak to ours.”
“Oh.”
“If he does that, Liv...” Stanton groans.
“What are they supposed to do, Dad? Cash is dead.”
“Well.” Stanton smiles. “They go and find a new lead singer.”
I give my father a horrified look. “He just died. You’re at the memorial service today...now. Is this the only reason you came? So you could say this to me? To try to get me to talk to him.”
“Liv, calm down, please. No one is in the mood for one of your performances, especially here. People are watching us.”
I meet Zane’s fiery gaze as he stands next to Tarver by the limo, across the lawn.
“No, of course not.” He smiles but it’s brittle and forced. “This is a big recording contract, Liv. If he breaks it, we’ll sue him for everything he’s worth.”
I give my father a glare. “You make me sick.”
“Liv, please. You must understand. You have to talk to him,” Stanton says, rubbing my shoulder.
It starts to sink in that this is all about money. Stanton and Audrey being here is only about money. They aren’t here for any other reason—not even just to see me.
“
I can’t say that I’d want your relationship with him to continue, Liv. If this deal goes south,” Stanton continues.
I scoff...loud.
Audrey steps forward and brings the three of us into a group hug. “What are you two discussing? People are starting to look,” she says through gritted caps.
“Liv’s about to throw another one of her tantrums,” Stanton bites out, rolling his eyes.
“A tantrum,” I say raising my voice, just when a hand glides across the middle of my back.
“Liv,” Zane says firmly, kissing me on the cheek.
He extends a hand to Stanton and pulls Audrey in for a hug.
“Hello, Zane,” my mother says. “You look fresh.”
“Thank you,” he replies to her.
I shift to take in the tailored black suit Zane’s wearing. His hair is slicked back and his face is clean-shaven. It’s the most dressed up I’ve seen him since we met. He looks GQ scrumptious.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” Stanton says, running a hand over his beard that looks whiter these days.
Zane bobs his head. “Yeah, thanks.”
“There’s some good replacements out there,” Stanton suggests.
Zane’s narrowed grey eyes land on my father. “Let’s go, Liv,” he says pulling me away.
Zane
It was nice to be home but I was out of sorts. It was the end of August. I spent most of my time in the studio but I was fucking miserable. I hid it from Liv but I was snorting more than usual. I couldn’t get this bitch out of my life! I was also in contract negotiations with RR hoping they’d release me, which weren’t going so well. In the last few days, the request had broadened from just releasing me to allowing the entire band to wriggle out of our RR choke chain.
The fans wouldn’t be happy about it but as far as we were concerned, The Vigilantes were done.
I’d written so many songs while on tour that The Vigilantes technically had the two albums already that we’d promised RR. But RR wanted more. They wanted us to find a replacement for Cash. Although the three of us agreed that Cash was a pain in the ass, there was something that just didn’t feel right about replacing him. Dexter and Rose would lose their life savings before bending to the whims of money-hungry music executives and I shared their sentiments.
It was very possible the three of us would end up penniless and having to start over when this was done.
It was nice to have Liv here, day and night. I finally got the chance to fuck her in my bed, which was incredible. We walked the beach and she baked sometimes. I’d stay up with her while she sketched and painted into the late hours of the morning, barefoot and wearing nothing but a T-shirt. It was good when it was just her and me and we shut out the rest of the world. The problem was that we couldn’t just do that...some things wouldn’t just go away that easily, especially my being a part of The Vigilantes.
Cash dying felt like a kick to the gut I wasn’t prepared for and I was still out of breath, trying to catch myself.
It’s late at night. I sit in front of the grand piano, just hitting some random keys. Liv is in her studio, which at first was just an empty room. She’s since filled it with paint, easels, and other things she needs. I take a long sip of the beer in my hand and place it back down on top of the Steinway & Sons masterpiece.
I begin to play Monday by Ludovico Einaudi, sinking into my thoughts. I think back to the last real conversation I had with Cash at Trent Marks’ house back in Vegas. I drop my head to look at the ebony and ivory keys when the song is done. I sit up straighter and rush upstairs to the bedroom and head into the closet. I finger through all the coats hung up and find the one I had on that night. I pull it off the hanger hastily and reach into the pocket, finding the envelope that Tarver gave me. I shred the paper finding a page inside with Cash’s handwriting on it. I rush back downstairs to the recording studio, nearly sliding across the wooden floors in my socks, paying no attention to my pounding heart. I turn the lights on when I’m inside and close the door. I take a seat and unfold the paper that has Cash’s scribble written all over it.
Looking over the lyrics and the music he’s written, I think the song could work. I hear the melody in my head. I can hear the bass and the guitar rift. Rose would come in with the drums. I hear the song and it’s good. I sit there for a moment, not understanding where all this could’ve come from out of Cash. It’s a love song.
“I can’t remember a time I didn’t dream of you, hearing your voice like some love-sick tune.
Over and over on replay, your pretty smile swallows my misery.
You took all the pain away, though you never believe.
I always want you next to me.
Soul to soul. Eye to eye. Together, we ride the road of nothingness.
Making our love a lie.
I want you until I grow old, dusty and cold—though you’d never be mine.
You walk a line, I’ll never understand.
You break my heart and leave me with empty, idle hands.
I’ll sleep on the rainbow’s back day by day, with only hope.
I wouldn’t want it any other way.
You’re my forever, baby.”
I flip the page over. On the back, he’s scribbled out at the top. “It’s called ‘Rachel.’ Z, I won’t be around to know what you think, so keep your fucking thoughts to yourself.”
I laugh when all I really want to do is shed a goddamn tear.
Zane
The next morning, a familiar voice sounds in the intercom. A flicker of rage spreads through me but I allow him in. When the doorbell rings, I open it. Ari stands in front of me in a three-piece suit. The usual smug expression that I dream of caving in with my fist is on his face. I head across the room and close my notebook that’s on top of the piano.
“This is a nice place,” he says, walking around heading for the doors on the other side of the den. “Nice view, too.”
“Yeah, it’s why I bought it.”
“Liv here?” he asks.
“Yeah, she’s down on the beach painting.”
Ari bobs his head a few times, while his mouth remains parted in curiosity. He tucks his hands back in the pockets of the trench coat he’s wearing.
“I just thought Liv would be here.”
“What do you want, Ari?” I say in a disinterested tone.
“I’m sorry about your friend Cash.”
“Thanks.”
“He was an orphan, like you I’m told.”
“Uh huh.”
I give Ari a blank stare. He couldn’t have come here to talk about orphans.
“Well, I know you’re having some problems with RR right now and I just thought I could help.”
“Help.”
“Yeah, help,” he says angrily.
I let out a laugh and run my hand over the scruff that covers my jaw.
“You really want out, huh?” he asks looking around.
“Yeah, I do.”
“I didn’t believe it when I heard it.”
I only grunt in response.
“They’ll sue, Presley. They are suing you. You’ll lose everything just because you can’t stick it all out for three more years and find a new lead singer. It doesn’t seem worth it to me.”
I laugh.
“But I bet you’d make the money back in no time. You have the talent and clearly you have the balls.”
I laugh again.
“But I’d like to help you out. I mean I think I can.”
I step towards him, looking him in the eye.
Ari smiles that smug fucking smile again. “There are loopholes.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.
“I think with a few loopholes and some missing documents, I can make your problem simply go away.”
“I’m all ears, Berg.”
“Well, I’m not a huge fan of my father as you know or Tom Stanton. I’m not really a fan of you either to be honest.” He laughs. “Especially after the last time we talked.�
��
I lift my brows with a smirk. “So, why are you helping?”
Ari chuckles. “I care about Liv and I want her to be happy. You seem to be tied to that happiness of hers. The fact that Tom hasn’t stopped all this simply for her sake just doesn’t settle right with me, ya know.”
I only nod. “The Vigilantes have two completed albums and a bonus song I’ve just come across a few days ago, written by Cash Warren himself.”
Ari lifts a brow in my direction.
“I can sing lead on this particular song written by Cash to get it completed. We can give RR that and half the royalties that go with it, but that’s it. Cash’s song would have to be the first released single on the first album. It’ll be a hit, I guarantee you. That’s the offer but we don’t want to be tied to RR anymore. This is fair. We want out, Berg.”
“I think I can make that happen,” Ari mumbles.
“This will be legal?”
“Yes, of course,” he says holding an index finger up in the air. “Of course, but you let me worry about that.”
I don’t trust this fucker but I relax a little, when I accept that he might actually be trying to save my ass. “Okay.”
Ari walks around a little more. A few of Liv’s sketches are along the far wall on the floor.
“Are these Liv’s?” He thumbs towards them, while an incredulous look colors his face.
“Yeah.”
“Really, wow. These are amazing.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Holy shit. Is this what she’s been working on?” Ari runs a hand over his jaw. “I mean I’ve never seen them. I knew she was an artist but Christ, these are amazing!”
“Yeah. I know.”
Ari cocks his head to the side and looks them over again. He bobs his head a few times and laughs. “Liv truly is something else.”
I meet his eyes, debating if I should react to the alternate meaning behind that. Just having this guy in my house, stresses me the fuck out.
“Yeah,” I say turning away from him and heading towards the kitchen.
Ari’s dress shoes hit the wooden floor hard and loud with each one of the steps he takes, following behind me as I cross the room.
