Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  There it is again. Her lack of structure and discipline with a huge dose of mistrust. She’s too young for such cynicism. Instead of snapping at her, I say, “I don’t have time for those types of games, sweetheart.”

  Her gaze softens and she nods before opening the door to her closet and walking in.

  Cassandra

  My mother is speaking, but I’m paying scant attention. My gaze keeps straying to my cell phone. I left a message for Sloane asking to meet for drinks and he hasn’t returned my call yet.

  I’ve had him on my mind continually and I’m so sorry my annual trip with Mother took me away from Houston. But we’re leaving tomorrow. As of today, he’s been in the city for nine days and has five to go. I want to fill his bed for his last five, and I don’t care what I have to do to achieve that.

  “Dear, I think a dinner party would cheer Georgiana from her time in the hospital with that nasty infection.”

  Still crisp and stylish at seventy, Mother tastes her red wine. I sometimes wonder if she went through the stage that I am, where age feels like an albatross. But she’s always been elegant and refined, and expected the same from me. As much as possible, I’m the untouchable Cassandra McCall.

  “I’m still cross with you that your husband had to call and tell me Georgie was in the hospital.”

  I smile tightly. “An oversight on my part, Mother.” And one she’ll harp on forever. I sincerely regret forgetting to call her, but I needed to get to the concert and live my life.

  I pick up my glass of wine and take a dainty sip. In the privacy of my room, I sometimes forego even a glass and drink from the bottle. “She’s fine. She’s been released from the hospital and…she’s fine,” I add. It’s as much as I know. I haven’t called her, and she’s digging her heels in and refusing to call me. All the better. She’ll stay out of my way.

  “I told Parnell he wasn’t aggressive enough in trying to convince Mason Sloane to give Georgiana guitar lessons. Something to cheer the child up.”

  Unable to stop it, I cough at her words. Tapping my fingers against my chest to clear my airway, I straighten in my seat and gather my composure. “It’s Sloane Mason,” I inform her.

  Mother shrugs. “I don’t care. I just want Georgiana happy. His name can be Dr. Pepper.”

  “He’s a rocker, Mother,” I bite out. “An oversexed womanizer whom I don’t want near Georgie.”

  “Parnell says she’s a big fan of the man and his band.”

  “I don’t care!”

  My voice is too sharp and my mother narrows her eyes. She studies me for long moments and I glance away, seething inside. She knows me. All of my weaknesses and all of my faults. I snatch my wine glass and down the contents. Mother starts an annoying tappity-tap of her fingers on the restaurant table. I can’t believe she’s doing something so uncouth, so I glare at her.

  “She’s your daughter,” Mother states coldly. “You’re her mother. You shouldn’t have to give up your life, Cassandra. I concede that. But you shouldn’t forget to include her in your life. You should have some feelings for her.”

  I have no comment. I hope Georgie is well, but I can’t see the wrong in my decision. “Mother, I have a life. She’s going to grow up…She’s practically grown already,” I amend, “and she’s going to live her life. She won’t care if I’m lonely and alone. No one will see anything wrong with her ignoring me to concentrate on work and friends and lovers. I’m doing no more than what she’ll do to me.”

  Mother’s hard, unblinking stare unnerves me. She’s the only person in my life I fear. No. I fear Georgie, too, but it’s a different kind of fear. I fear retribution from my mother. With Georgie, I fear being overshadowed.

  Mother opens her mouth to speak at the very same time a text message comes through. My heart quickens when I notice Sloane’s name and I allow my gaze to drop to the words.

  I’m sorry. Tight schedule won’t allow us to meet up again.

  I reread the message and my eyes blur. It isn’t often that I’m rejected by anyone and this now is the second time Sloane has done it to me. We fucked so fabulously, I didn’t believe he’d turn down another chance to be with me.

  I search for another tact, suddenly floundering in my mother’s silence. It unnerves me and I’m a child all over again. My head is starting to pound and I want to escape to my room.

  A light goes off in my brain and I send a reply. I’m planning a dinner party. To cheer up my daughter. She’s your #1 fan and I’ll forever be in your debt if you’d attend.

  I press send, a smug smile tugging at my mouth.

  “Why don’t you send Georgiana to live with me?”

  Mother’s voice startles me and I blink. “What?”

  “Georgiana. With me. Living.”

  “My God, Mother. Please stop talking like that. It drives me insane.”

  She smiles and the laugh lines around her eyes crinkle. “I know.”

  Glaring at her, I switch my attention to my silent phone. Young or old, it never gets easier waiting for a man’s response. “I’ll not allow Georgie to live with you.”

  “The girl has no friends. No social life. No anything.” By her tone, I know she’s laying part of the blame on me. “She should be getting prepped for her debut into Society.”

  “Georgie isn’t a social butterfly like I am.” She’s also not academically inclined, a trait from her father’s side. If she didn’t have beauty, she’d have nothing at all.

  Mother falls into that alarming silence again. I’m as desperate to know what she’s thinking as I am to fuck Sloane again.

  “We’ve done our jobs and kept the press away from her. Do you think that would’ve been achieved if she were gallivanting all over the place?”

  “Done in the right circles, I’m sure it would be.”

  With a dramatic sigh, I school my features into disinterest and glance around the restaurant, all wood and glass with beautiful China and fine crystal. I’ve not purchased much this trip, but I’ve done more than my share of browsing. Another idea strikes me. I smile at how filled I am with inspiration.

  “I want to buy Georgie the diamond and amethyst necklace. That might cheer her up more than a dinner party.” Which doesn’t seem to be happening since Sloane hasn’t responded.

  For a moment, I don’t think my mother buys my generosity. She’s going to call me down and point out that I’m making the gesture to get her off my back, rather than really wanting to cheer my daughter up.

  A tense moment passes, then she nods and makes eye contact with our waiter to indicate we’re ready to settle the tab.

  Sloane

  I reread Cassandra’s message, not caring that everything has fallen silent around me. When Georgie and I walked into the suite, we found my band members preparing to head out for a night on the town.

  They aren’t looking at me, though. They’re staring at Georgie. She looks younger than she is—and that’s fucking young enough.

  “How fucking old are you?” Kiln leans against the back of the sofa and waits for a response.

  “Georgie, Kiln. Kiln, Georgie,” I introduce and add, “none of your fucking business,” as endless possibilities run through my head at the meaning behind Cassandra’s invitation. None of them are good. If she’s beholden to me, I’m fucking sure she’ll somehow find a way to have me beholden to her.

  “Hi,” Georgie says into the silence, her gaze touching on each of them before finding mine again. “I’m a huge fan of Phoenix Rising.”

  “You and millions of others,” Quint says with a cool smile.

  “Yes, well, I’m his number one fan,” she informs them, pointing to me.

  Maitland scratches his scalp, not disturbing his man bun. He’s staring at her face, her mouth, her body, revealed in tight leather pants and a small halter top. On her feet are Doc Martens almost identical to a pair I own. I have no fucking idea how she’s wearing that shit in this Gulf Coast heat, but she’s oozing sensuality. My only regret is her lack of m
ake-up. Had she worn it, she would’ve looked older.

  “You have ID on you?” Maitland asks with a straight face.

  She laughs and finger combs more of her windblown hair. Obviously, she thinks his question is a joke because she waves it away and walks further into the room. Either she isn’t picking up on the guys’ unwelcome hostility or she’s ignoring it.

  Seeds of confrontation blow through the air. I need to get her in my bedroom, so I can get this over with. As I rub my eyes, she zeroes in on the bar.

  Before she says anything or makes a move, I speak. “Fuck, no. You’re not fucking drinking, Georgiana.”

  My tone startles everyone. Even Kiln straightens, but Georgie narrows her eyes again.

  Raising my hand for silence, I sigh under my breath at the building storm in Georgie’s eyes, but hit Kiln with a peremptory strike before he opens his fucking trap. “Shut the fuck up, asshole. Before you say one fucking thing.” Anger bubbles to the surface and I glare at her in warning. She claims to know everything about me, but I guarantee she doesn’t know what the look I’m giving her means.

  Jaeger has paid off too many women to count to keep this shit quiet. The guys move restlessly, comprehending my mood.

  “Why did you bring me here?” she finally asks. “Is it to watch over me or to fuck me?”

  “What the fuck do you think?”

  Her nostrils flare and she starts for the door. “Right. Remind me when hot rockers have time to fucking babysit?”

  “When girls are one fucking high from OD’ing.”

  I block her escape, forcing her to stop. She has yet to sit her overnight bag down, although, for me, I could get a week’s worth of clothes in the thing. That’s how stuffed she has it.

  “I don’t need a keeper, but I want a drink, and I want to come. If you can’t give me either, I’m leaving.”

  “You’re sixteen. I can’t give you either.” I remember, too late, that I came in her mouth. Not that I can forget it, but I don’t want to bring anything up in front of the others.

  Clenching her jaw, she looks at the floor, going silent. My secret is hers, too, and it’s safe. “I can’t sleep without a drink,” she admits quietly.

  “Why?” Quint growls the word.

  I send him a warning: back the fuck off. If he wants to act like an ass, do it with me. Leave Georgie the fuck alone.

  “I just can’t and since Sloane isn’t sleeping with me, I need something.” Unintimidated by Quint, she scowls at him. “My parents don’t care if I drink or not. Cassandra and Parnell McCall have very lax rules.”

  Kiln’s eyes widen. It must’ve just dawned on him exactly who this is. The girl I’ve had him check on every fucking day. The girl whose mother came to my fucking concert in her place.

  He moves to the other guys and whispers something to them. They know. He’s told them. Not that I give a fuck, but I wonder if this works for or against me.

  “My room is through that door.” I nod to my right. “Go and get settled. I’ll order room service and have champagne sent up.” I’m conceding a bit because she’s breaking my heart. “Are you hungry?”

  “A little.”

  “What would you like to do for the evening?”

  “Do you want to watch The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly? It’s your favorite movie.”

  Each time she tells me what I enjoy, she shows her age. I hope she fills me in all night to keep the reminder at the forefront of my head. I smile and head to the bar myself. “Okay, although I don’t know where I can find a John Wayne movie on such short notice.” I shrug and reconsider. “Netflix, I guess.”

  Her face crumples. “It’s a Clint Eastwood movie.” Color sweeps through her skin and I almost drop to my knees to worship her beauty. “You’ve never seen the movie, have you?”

  “Sorry, no, sweetheart,” I say gently. I grab the scotch and fill a highball glass, downing half the contents.

  Her phone rings, discernible because none of us have one of our songs as a ringtone. She pulls it from her bag and answers, her eyes darting between me and floor.

  I immediately identify who the fuck it is even before she whispers, “Not now, Crowell.”

  She listens a moment longer, then giggles and turns her back on us. Her hair flows to an ass that’s round and perfect. My mouth waters at the thought of tasting her.

  “What about Lana?” Suspicion laces her words and I fucking know the asshole is handing her some type of bullshit. “No,” she says. The stubborn note in her voice is laudable. “I don’t care if no one knows. You can’t have her and me.” When she turns and starts to pace, her face is a study of frustration. “I know, so you don’t have to keep fucking telling me!” A huff of breath and a roll of her eyes before she relents. “Yeah, fine. I’ll let you know a good time for us to meet.”

  She disconnects and I down the rest of my alcohol. Deep in thought, she chews on her lower lip as I pour myself another drink. “Leave Crowell alone,” I order.

  “He’s my friend,” she says with a sigh and rubs her forehead. “Like I thought all of you were to each other, but there’s not been two good sentences spoken between all of you. No wonder your music is shit suddenly. I couldn’t work with my enemies either.”

  Adam goes to her and they regard each other without flinching. He’s always the thinker. If someone makes a valid point, he gets closer to pick apart their brain. It’s his way of figuring shit out. “Whatever we’re going through is of no concern of yours.” His resentful tone shouldn’t be surprising. I’m shocked we haven’t tried to kill each other after our conversation with Dad. He allowed me to score that round, but it does little good since he keeps us over a fucking barrel.

  I’m pretty fucking sure he wants one of us to take out the other. If Kiln does me, then Dad will have the perfect excuse not to include him in the will. If I take out Kiln, then I go to jail.

  What happens with Jaeger, I’m not fucking sure. He might be the luckiest motherfucker on earth and end up with the windfall since his two little brothers are such hotheads.

  “As a fan who spends her money on your music, it most certainly is a concern of mine,” she retorts.

  “Go to my room and freshen up, Georgie. By the time you’re finished, I’ll have things settled.”

  Obediently, she listens and I face the other four.

  “You’re out of your fucking mind. If the press catches her up here, we’ll be accused of all kinds of fucked up behavior,” Maitland snarls, right in my face.

  I shove him away, daring him, with one look, to fuck with me again. “You’re leaving, so your reputation won’t suffer.”

  “When we leave, she’s getting the fuck out, too,” Quint decrees.

  “No. If she leaves, she’ll call her asshole drug-supplying boyfriend and get high as the fucking moon. She stays with me.”

  Incredulity meets my words.

  “Is she moving in with you? Because, Sloane, that’s the only fucking way you’ll keep her from whatever you’re trying to save her from.” Adam is tense and pins me with a look. “It’s best she fuck herself up with some teenage fuck than to—“

  “He isn’t a teenage fuck,” I growl. “He’s around our age.”

  “Sloane.”

  I stiffen at Kiln’s voice. I don’t want to hear what the fuck he has to say, but that’s never stopped him before and it doesn’t now. “It’s nice that you’re trying to repay the universe for all your sins. This girl isn’t the way to do it.”

  It comes to me that this is the most we’ve all spoken to each other in months. Even if the subject is unwelcomed, we’re talking.

  “I’m here tonight and I’m not leaving again, so she stays with me. I’ll get her to her house as soon as possible and without detection in the morning.”

  “This isn’t fucking altruistic on your part,” Kiln accuses. “You look at her like you’re ready to fuck her brains out.”

  I meet Kiln’s furious gaze and smile without humor. “That’s because I am.”


  “You love to play with fucking fire,” he continues in that same tone. The one I fucking hate because he’s an asshole. He goes to the desk on the other side of the room and pulls out the room service menu. He flips through it, intermittently glaring at me, before throwing it aside. “I want a fucking steak.” Sitting on the sofa, he resembles an angry dog who’s had his bone stolen.

  Adam sighs and sits. “I guess I’ll have one, too.”

  “You don’t have to change your plans for me,” I mutter when Quint and Maitland follow suit in both the decision to stay and want of a steak.

  “We don’t,” Maitland agrees, “but, it feels good to offer more words than something about fucking music. She’s right. How can we create some fucking spastic songs if we aren’t getting along?”

  “She’s gorgeous,” Adam says.

  I pour another drink. “I know.” At one time, I could’ve trusted them with the entire sordid story of Cassandra, Parnell, and Georgiana in my own words. Kiln’s version probably paints me in the worst possible light. I don’t care. I refuse to defend one more action of mine to them. Besides, I’m not comfortable sharing the details of my saga with the McCalls. I’ve been on their shit list for so long, I don’t remember how it felt when we were so tight. So I don’t elaborate. I merely order room service for us and wait for Georgie’s reappearance.

  Chapter Nine

  Georgie

  I lean against the counter and stare into the mirror. The private bathroom in the suite isn’t anything out of the ordinary in terms of luxury hotels. Various shades of brown mosaic compromises three of the walls, with the fourth having double sinks and a recessed vanity along with the huge mirror. Shelves beneath the sink are made with the same, small mosaic tiles, and hold fluffy, white towels, spa slippers, and a robe that’s been stuffed inside, obviously used. Light beige ceramic floors expand the room, removing the closed in effect created by the mosaic. A glass enclosed shower is opposite me. The toilet and bidet is around a little corner, separated. An oval tub, encased in wood, beckons me, but I just stand and continue to stare at myself.