Fight the Spark: Sons of Sinners Part 1 (A Rock Star Romance)

by Grace James

  As I walked down the darkened hallway, a door to my right opened and two guys emerged – I recognized them from the opening band.

  “Hi, sweetheart, what’s your name?” One of them slurred. He was short and stocky with spiky red hair pushed into a half hearted Mohawk. The guy behind him was biting his lips, chewing on them really, looking antsy. He was rail-thin, with long, bedraggled hair hanging around his face.

  “Um, I’m Amy,” I said, trying to strike a balance between polite and not interested. “Excuse me,” I tried to walk past them – but Mohawk had other ideas.

  “Hey, sweetheart! Where you goin’?” He grabbed my arm and swung me back to face him.

  “Hey!” I shouted, trying to pull his fingers off of me.

  “Oh, I get it! We’re not good enough for this one, Todd, she wants a piece of Sons.” Mohawk squeezing my arm painfully as his alcohol laden breath invaded my nostrils. His other hand went to his crotch.

  I watched in horror.

  “I guarantee what’s in here is just as impressive as anything they have in their pants, sweetheart!”

  Fear started to slink through me and I pulled in a deep breath, ready to scream.

  Before I could make a sound, I heard a voice behind me – it was like granite, cold and hard. “Get your fucking hands off of her before I break every goddamn bone in your body.”

  Blake.

  I turned my head to see him standing a few feet behind me; his eyes were the dangerous indigo of a storm at sea.

  “Blake! I’m just playin’ man!” Mohawk suddenly looked nervous and his grip slackened on my arm – but he didn’t release me, which was kind of a catastrophic mistake on his part.

  Blake had lunged forwards and grabbed him, one handed, by the throat before my eyes had even registered that he was moving. He stood close, towering over us both, glaring down at Mohawk with deadly rage etched across his features.

  I saw Mohawk blanch.

  His skinny side kick – Todd – had flattened himself against the wall, as if he were trying to seep into it and disappear.

  “I said get the FUCK OFF HER!” Blake roared.

  Mohawk’s hand dropped away as if my skin had burned him.

  Instantly, Blake slammed him against the wall, next to his useless friend. “If you so much as look at her again I’m gonna bury you,” Blake seethed as his fingers squeezed into Mohawk’s neck. “Do you understand me? Am I making perfect fucking sense?”

  Mohawk struggled to nod, his face turning an unhealthy shade of purple.

  “Good. Now disappear.” Blake stepped back and released the gasping man, who collapsed into a crumpled heap. Blake stared him down until he stumbled away, pulling Todd along with him.

  I wrapped my arms around my body, hugging myself, as Blake turned to me. His eyes were full of concern but I could see the fury still bubbling underneath. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  “No, no, I’m okay, I just freaked out a little is all.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah,” I said, waving my hand flippantly, trying to make light of the situation, trying to claw back a little of my dignity. “Just guys being guys. You should know all about that, right?”

  He went rigid. “What?”

  I dropped my eyes.

  Oh, shit, WHY did I say that? WHY?!

  “Do you – do you think I would do that?” Blake asked. I could hear the disbelief in his voice and, if I wasn’t mistaken, the hurt.

  “No, I didn’t mean...I don’t know what I meant.” I couldn’t meet his eyes. My face burned.

  “Con and the others are still in the dressing room,” he said quietly, his voice flat. “You should go see him. I need to go make sure those guys leave.” He turned and started to walk away.

  “Blake, wait!” I called after him. “I didn’t mean –”

  “Forget it,” he cut me off curtly, without turning back. I watched his retreating back until he passed through the door at the other end of the hallway.

  I was kicking myself for my thoughtlessness. The guy had just stepped in and helped me, saved me really, because one thing I did know was that guys who were that wasted could be…well, unpredictable was one way to put it.

  And then I’d pretty much called him a rapist.

  42

  I stood in the dark hallway for a minute, feeling horrible.

  Partly because of my encounter with Mohawk and Todd…but mostly because no one, and I mean no one, had ever stood up for me and protected me the way that Blake just had.

  The way he had looked at Mohawk, like he was struggling not to smash him into paste, was scary. I mean, it should have been scary. It sure was for the unfortunate guy who had dared to touch me. But right at that moment, with Blake looming over me, staring down my would-be molester, I had never felt more protected.

  And then I’d gone and made THAT comment.

  So…I felt horrible.

  Maybe that was why, when I eventually walked into the dressing room and saw Connor, I didn’t immediately tell him about what had happened in the hallway.

  Connor, Derren and Kane were lounging on the sofas when I walked in. Connor looked up from his phone briefly and shot me a distracted smile.

  “Just using you for your restroom, guys,” I quipped as I slipped inside and shut the door.

  “Least you’re in there alone this time!” Derren called out.

  “Ha ha,” I called back, not actually laughing.

  I finished up quickly and went back outside; Kane offered me a beer as I perched on the arm of the couch next to Connor.

  I shook my head. “I think Hayley already has tequila lined up for me.”

  Kane shuddered. “I hate tequila.”

  Derren laughed. “Still having flashbacks, man?”

  “Every damn night.”

  “Flashbacks?” I asked.

  “My twenty-first birthday, these douchebags got me wasted on tequila –”

  “He ended up buck naked, riding his dirt bike around the neighborhood…” Derren dissolved into giggles.

  “Still got a scar on my ass,” Kane grumbled.

  I was about to ask exactly how the scar got there, when Connor stood up abruptly. “I’m gonna go catch up with Todd, I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Then two things happened in quick succession.

  Number one:

  Two dots connected in my head and then I was standing up too, staring at him in a mixture of disbelief and outrage. Todd. That guy had stood by, chomping on his lips like he was buzzed to high heaven, while his buddy aggressively hit on me (and that was putting it nicely). Connor was going to ‘catch up’ with him? WHY?

  Because Todd is clearly HOLDING, that’s why! Inner Amy screamed in fury.

  All of this passed through my brain in a nanosecond – and then I was talking: “Todd as in TODD from Damascus Rising, the band that opened for you guys tonight? You know that guy?!”

  Connor looked at me, clearly confused by my reaction, and why wouldn’t he be? He had no idea what had just gone down in the hallway. “Uh, yeah, why?”

  “How do you know him?” I demanded.

  “We used to play in a band together, years ago, why are you freaking out?” Connor looked a little irritated by then.

  I opened my mouth to tell him exactly why I was freaking out, but before I could –

  Number two:

  The door to the dressing room opened and Blake walked in, followed by a handsome guy, with short, perfectly groomed blond hair, who was maybe in his late thirties. He was wearing a dark navy sports jacket over a white dress shirt and those expensive jeans that look lived-in but are actually fake lived-in, because you pay $600 for the designers to make them look that way.

  Aiden. The potential manager.

  There was a beat of silence –

  And then Blake started introducing Aiden Parkinson to the guys. When he got to me, he didn’t even look at me, just gestured in my general direction and said “This is Amy Scott, she’s a fri
end of the band.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Amy,” Aiden shook my hand but immediately turned away. He was polite but businesslike. Then they were all sitting down on the couches.

  Connor didn’t glance my way again.

  Just like that, I’d been dismissed.

  And, if I’m honest, I totally got it. There was a lot riding on that meeting, and they needed to get down to business. They didn’t need any distractions and they definitely didn’t need me there. I slipped away quietly, but I couldn’t help feeling a little hurt.

  And I never did tell Connor what had happened in the hallway.

  43

  I found Hayley and Mel back in the bar; they had commandeered a tall table with high-backed stools around it and were perched up there, sipping beers.

  “Here she is!” Mel crowed drunkenly. “We drank your tequila!”

  “We drank one tequila, two tequila, three tequila!” Hayley sang. “You were gone too long!”

  “Let’s get some more!” Mel laughed.

  I grinned. “More tequila is probably a bad idea. I just used the restroom in the guys’ dressing room. They’re meeting with the manager right now.”

  Hayley giggled and clapped her hands excitedly. “If he doesn’t offer to represent them, he’s crazy!”

  “I know,” I agreed.

  “It’s gonna happen, I have a good feeling about this,” Mel said.

  Twenty minutes later, we found out that she was right. That girl was always right.

  Hayley nudged me and nodded to the door leading to the backstage area; the guys were walking out with Aiden. They went to the bar and ordered a round of whiskey – soon they were all raising glasses, making a toast. Then they were all shaking hands with Aiden before he walked out of the bar.

  When he had disappeared through the door, the guys all broke into whoops and hollers, pumping their fists into the air and bro-hugging.

  I turned to Hayley. “Looks like it went well.”

  “C’mon lets go see what the word is.” Hayley grabbed Mel and I and pulled us towards them.

  This time, when Connor saw me, he was grinning from ear to ear. He threw his arms around my waist, lifted me and twirled me around and around. “You can officially call me Mr. Rock Star now,” he said as he brought us to a stumbling stop and lowered me to the ground again. “Or Rock God, whatever you like best.”

  I laughed. “Well, I won’t be referring to you as God. Your ego’s big enough already.”

  He chuckled and kissed me, hot and heavy, in the middle of the bar.

  Soon, we were all piled into a booth and ordering more drinks. The guys – well, mainly Derren and Blake – filled us in on the meeting. I won’t go into all the details because, if I’m completely honest, they’re probably not that interesting.

  Put simply, they were going to sign a contract which meant that Aiden would manage them. He had presented them with a plan of action: they would continue to play the shows that they had already booked, but they would also go into the studio and record another EP using his contacts because (a) some of the songs that they had previously recorded weren’t good enough – by that he meant that the production wasn’t great, not the songs themselves; and (b) there wasn’t time to record a full album before they went on tour for the summer.

  Yes, on tour for the summer.

  He was able to book them on to a tour with a major band called Divide (I owned their album, they were HUGE), who were due to start a big tour in a few months and who Aiden had represented in the past. Furthermore, he thought that he could get them onto the line up for some big festivals.

  But it didn’t end there; he was also offering them the opportunity to do interviews with radio stations and magazines that they just couldn’t have landed on their own at that point in their careers.

  Their excitement was palpable, a living thing. It felt like they were on the edge, just on the cusp of something bigger. Like this was the tipping point. If they played this right, if it went well, they would end up in a whole other league.

  All in all, if he was as good as his word, Sons of Sinners would at least have a shot at becoming Career Musicians – that was the dream. They wanted to make a living off of making their own music, rather than having to fit the band around their day jobs.

  And it was starting to look like the dream was within reach.

  44

  Around the time that I noticed Connor slam back his sixth straight bourbon in a row, I noticed that Blake had slipped away. The last time I’d seen him, he and the rest of the band had been hanging out by the bar. They were laughing and joking with a rowdy group of guys from other local bands that had come to watch them play. The girls and I had stayed sitting in the booth, chatting. But I wanted to talk to Blake about what had happened earlier. I felt like I needed to thank him for standing up for me and apologize for offending him – yeah, the irony of that is not lost on me – so I went to find him.

  What came after was a fairly lengthy search, which I almost gave up on because I realized that even if I did find him, I would probably also find him attached to a random girl, and that was a scene I was not itching to witness.

  Therefore it came as a surprise when I eventually found him, alone, out back of the bar.

  He was facing away from me, reclining on the hood of his truck, his back propped against the windshield and a bottle of beer in his hand. For a moment I just stood there, looking at him, feeling really unsure. There was a very good chance he was going to say something crude or else simply show me snide indifference…

  Screw it, Righteous Amy thought, just because he’s normally socially obnoxious doesn’t mean I have to forget MY manners.

  Steeling myself, I walked towards him. “Hey,” I called quietly as I approached.

  He turned towards the sound of my voice. When he saw me, surprise played across his face before it was quickly masked with his classic smirk. I could have sworn that smirk wasn’t quite as convincing as normal though, it seemed a little forced.

  “Miss me already?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  “Nope.”

  “Ouch. You’re taking no prisoners tonight, Princess. I’m gonna tell Connor on you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You can’t stick up for yourself?”

  “Not against you, you’re too mean.”

  Despite the underlying tension, I chuckled a little.

  “You didn’t tell him about those guys.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “…not yet.”

  “Good.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Why ‘good’?”

  He shot me a look. “I don’t know, ‘cause he’d lose it, maybe?”

  “Like you almost did?” I teased gently, testing the water.

  He smiled wryly. “That was me being restrained.”

  “Well...I came out here because I wanted to talk to you about that.” I climbed up and sat on the hood of the truck, my feet resting on the front bumper.

  He pushed himself up off of the windshield and scooted forwards, imitating my position, looking at me curiously, waiting for me to speak.

  “Thank you for stepping in, for looking out for me. Those guys were scaring me and you saved me, I won’t forget it.”

  He shrugged. “It was nothing.”

  “It wasn’t ‘nothing’ and, even if it were, it still deserves a ‘thank you’. I should have thanked you straight away instead of insulting you. That wasn’t fair and I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean what I said, Blake.” I waited for him to respond with something offensive, or brush of my words with a flippant smart-ass comment, but he just stared at me, his face unreadable.

  I squirmed a little under his gaze and, when he still didn’t speak after a few moments, I looked away and started to stand. “Alright...well, I’m going to go back inside.”

  “Wait.”

  I looked back at him questioningly and slowly sat back down.

  “I forgive you. For what you said about me, I mean. It’s not like I�
��ve ever given you any reason to think otherwise.”

  “So you’re completely aware that you’re a chauvinist asshole with no redeeming qualities?” I blurted it out before I could stop myself. It was supposed to be a joke, but coming so soon after my last crash-and-burn comment to him in the hallway, I was pretty sure I’d blown it.

  But Blake threw back his head and roared laughter into the night. Surprised, I started to laugh too, and the tension broke a little.

  “A couple shots and you’re down right offensive!” he said, gleefully. “Fuck, but I like it – the offensiveness, that is.”

  “You would,” I said dryly.

  “Want the rest of my beer? Then you can really tear me a new one?”

  “I didn’t make you cry already?”

  He was still laughing. “Nah, but there’s still time.” He wiggled the bottle of beer in front of me. “I’m driving tonight, I shouldn’t finish this anyway.”

  I took the bottle. “Okaaaay, then. Where to start...” I looked him up and down, feigning disgust. “Well, for one thing, you have a face only a mother could love.” (Totally not true – as I’ve already made abundantly clear.)

  His smile faltered and he looked away.

  I cringed.

  Oh shit, way to build bridges, Amy.

  “Sorry –”

  “Don’t,” he cut me off gruffly. “Don’t apologize anymore. You didn’t do anything.”

  The silence thickened around us.

  I bit the bullet. “Are you okay, Blake?”

  “I’m just...I’m not having a good day.”

  “But you guys just landed a manager – and a pretty good one apparently.”

  “Yeah, I know, and that’s incredible...” he trailed off.