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

by Grace James

  And he obviously knew I worshipped Tarantino.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Want to watch a movie?”

  What I really wanted was an apology, and for him to tell me that he had been wrong and would much rather be with me than go get high with his friends.

  I also wanted him to acknowledge the fact that we’d been arguing a lot recently, and maybe also acknowledge that it wasn’t all my fault.

  But I knew I wasn’t about to get any of that.

  But I could have him.

  “Well?” he prompted, smiling down at me. “We watching this movie or not?”

  I could stand my ground and get pissed…or I could choose him.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Is this your apology for dropping me the other day?”

  He leant down and nuzzled my nose with his. “This is me trying to do something nice.”

  “Well…I do love Tarantino…”

  He kissed me lightly. “So, I’m forgiven?”

  In response, I took his hand and led him into the apartment.

  49

  So, things were a little rocky between Connor and me. And, let’s face it, neither of us was about to address it properly. Looking back, I think that maybe neither of us really knew how to handle it…

  But by then, something else had started to change too.

  At first, I hadn’t even noticed it – at least not on a conscious level.

  And when it eventually did hit me, I was already powerless to stop it.

  50

  Connor and I had arranged to see each other one Saturday afternoon in early spring. He’d gone to the desert with Kane to ride dirt bikes, and so he’d asked me to meet him at the house when he was done.

  When I pulled up outside, I noticed that Blake’s Chevy wasn’t on the driveway, so I was a little surprised when he answered the door. After the night weeks ago, at Filthy Joe’s, where we had our little heart to heart, we’d settled into a sarcastic almost-friendship (the technical term was probably ‘frenemies’).

  “Hey, Princess!” He greeted me. “Don’t tell me, you finally gave in and admitted to yourself that you need me in your life, am I right?” He smirked and winked suggestively.

  I rolled my eyes. “No thanks, Stifler, last time I checked, you weren’t the last guy on earth.”

  “I’ve been promoted! Last time you said not even if I was the last guy on earth!” Then he pointed to me, adopting a stern expression. “And don’t call me Stifler, I’m nothing like that guy.”

  “Suuure you’re not, but stop calling me ‘Princess’ and I’ll consider it.”

  “Can’t do that.”

  “Then boo for you.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me and shook his head.

  “You bring it on yourself,” I said, in the same tone that you would use to explain to a three year old why they had to go in Time Out.

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “You do know your car is gone, right?” I gestured to the empty driveway.

  “Con and Kane took their bikes to the desert in it. I don’t think they’ll be much longer. You coming in?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said, following him inside.

  “You want coffee?” he asked as he walked towards the kitchen.

  “Stifler, did you just speak to me like a normal person?!”

  He grinned. “Y’know, I can function like a human.”

  “Who knew?”

  “You want coffee or not?”

  “Always assume I want coffee – but not if you’re busy.”

  “Just doing some writing, but I need a break anyway.” He busied himself making the coffee.

  “What are you writing?”

  “Couple new songs...well, one solid idea, pretty much done. The other is just a hook and a melody really, no words yet, but this hook has been going around in my head for days.”

  “How does it go?” I asked, intrigued.

  He kind of half-sang and half-hummed it while he stirred our coffees and then turned and handed me my cup.

  “That’s catchy,” I said when he was done.

  “Yeah, that’s why it’s stuck in my head.” He said wryly, gesturing to the couches. We sat down, me cradling my coffee in both hands. He picked up the yellow legal pad that he had been scribbling on and hummed the hook over again while he looked at it.

  “You said you don’t have any words yet?”

  He took a sip of his coffee. “No. Yeah. I mean, I got words, I’m just not sure if they’re working.” He looked across at me. “I know what I’m trying to say, I just don’t know if it sounds right.”

  “Well, what are you trying to say?”

  “I don’t know, really….”

  “But you just said you did!”

  He grinned at my confusion. “Yeah, okay, it’s like this: I’m trying to get across this feeling, like, this vibe, but the words I keep coming up with just don’t really fit, y’know? Everything I come up with sounds lame and cliché when it’s supposed to sound kind of...primal and antiestablishment, I guess.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “‘Antiestablishment?”

  “Yeah. It means –”

  “I know what it means.”

  “Of course you do. You just didn’t think I would.” He looked at me, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

  “Shut up Mr. Poor Misunderstood Man-whore, that’s not what I meant.”

  “Totally what you meant, but I’m a forgiving guy.”

  “You’re an irritating guy, I’ll give you that.” I took a drink and pretended to consider for a second. “But you do make damn good coffee.”

  He shrugged and smirked. “Comes in handy the morning after.”

  “Ewww!” I scrunched up my eyes in over-exaggerated disgust as he chuckled, but in the pit of my stomach, I did feel the tiniest flicker of…genuine disgust, or something like it. “So are you going to sing these lyrics or not?” I asked, changing the subject.

  He hesitated and the humor slipped from his face a little. “Uh, well...they’re not totally finished.”

  “You don’t have to.” I said, sensing his unease. “I was just curious what this primal vibe could be.”

  “It’s not about sex.” He sighed in exasperation, but he was grinning a little too.

  “I never said it was! You’re the one who keeps bringing it up.” The pun was completely unintended and I immediately felt my face start to burn.

  Blake barked a laugh at my unease. “Okay, fuck it, listen up.” He tossed his notepad on to the coffee table and picked up his acoustic guitar, which had been leaning against the couch, and rested it on his lap. Then he started to sing and strum, looking down at his messy scrawl the whole time. His deep melodic voice rang through the house, dropping down to a smoky and rough timbre at certain points throughout the song.

  I can’t work through this catch

  Around my neck

  This snare

  The more you fight

  The more it pulls

  And we’re already there

  March as one

  Into the breach

  Hating those

  Who fall away

  Don’t wanna hide

  There’s no release

  Beyond what lies ahead

  We’re longing like slaves

  Cast your eyes down

  Obligation binds us all

  Expectation drown them all

  Drag it all down

  Drag it all down

  Veiled in smoke

  Always unseen

  They sell us ashes

  That look like dreams

  Every failure

  Brings us closer

  Underneath it all

  There’s nothing there

  March as one

  Into the breach

  Hating those

  Who fall away,

  Don’t wanna hide

  There’s no release

  Beyond what lies ahead

  We’re longing like slaves
<
br />   Cast your eyes down

  Obligation binds us all

  Expectation drown them all

  Drag it all down

  Drag it all down

  We’re longing like slaves,

  Cast your eyes down

  When he was done he stared at his notepad for a few seconds before looking at me, his forehead crinkling up in an unspoken question.

  “Wow,” I murmured staring at him.

  “That’s all you got?” He laughed.

  “That was...it was completely unlike anything you guys have done before.”

  “Yeah, I know…” He looked at me warily. “So, no good?”

  “No! I mean, yes!” I shook my head. “This is coming out wrong. I love the songs you already have, but this one is a step up, I think. All the songs you have so far are more...simple I guess. That’s not an insult,” I quickly clarified. “It’s just that they’re not as passionate, it sounds like there’s more of a message in this song, the lyrics are intriguing, it draws you in.”

  Blake was watching me intently. “So, you got the message? The concept?”

  “I think so...it’s about being tied to your responsibilities, how everyone is just doing what they have to in order to survive. Is that it?”

  He broke into a dazzling, genuine smile; it completely transformed his face, making him look younger, less tough. “Pretty damn close.” He sobered a little and glanced down at his lyrics again. “What about the ‘longing like slaves’ part? Is it too much?”

  I considered. “No. I think it works, it makes you wonder what the ‘longing’ is for.”

  Blake looked at me with an unreadable expression on his face, before rubbing his hand over his jaw and looking away. His reaction was weird, like I’d stumbled across something I wasn’t supposed to see. For some reason I couldn’t define, a spike of adrenaline pulsed through me.

  “Um, that’s just my opinion though,” I said. “You know that I don’t know the first thing about making music, I just like listening to it.”

  He looked back at me and a slight grin pulled at his lips. “That’s why you’re the perfect person to ask, I can’t believe I never thought of it before. You have no idea what you’re talking about –”

  “Hey!”

  “Let me finish.” His grin widened. “You have no idea what you’re talking about technically. But you’re a fan of music, you listen to a lot of music, you know what makes a normal, everyday person think Shit! That song rocked! But you also don’t give a fuck about offending me. You’re kinda the perfect sounding board.”

  I didn’t know whether to be flattered or a little insulted. “Um, thanks, I guess.”

  His grin widened. “No, thank you...” Then he launched into a barrage of questions about the song. Which part did you like best? What does this lyric make you think of? If I slowed that part down and Derren added some harmonies, would it work better? Can you remember the chorus? If you had to, could you sing it back to me now?

  Finally, he was done.

  “I honestly thought it was great.” I said.

  He pointed to me. “That earns you some more coffee.” He made us another cup and then sat back down, flipping through his pad of lyrics. “Okay, listen to one more?”

  “Sure.”

  The next song he sang was good, but not on the same level as the previous one. I told him as much.

  “That’s what I think now, too,” he admitted, clearly a little confused. “Before I sang the other one to you, I would have said that this one was better.”

  “Well, who’s to say it’s not? It does sound a lot more like your other stuff.”

  He nodded, frowning.

  “Maybe you’re growing and developing as an artist,” I teased.

  “Maybe.” He looked at me thoughtfully. “We got a practice booked in for tomorrow, will you come? I want to work on these songs and I want to know what you think of them when they’re played by the whole band.”

  I hesitated. I’d accompanied Connor to band practice a few times and, to be honest, after the first couple of times it had gotten a little boring. People have this idea that sitting in on a band practice is this amazingly exciting experience – and maybe it is if the band you’re with are super famous and have plush practice rooms with champagne on tap. With a non-famous band, you end up sitting in a dump of a practice room on a crate, or on the moldy carpet, while they run the same three songs fifty times. You also usually end up being their soda and hamburger mule.

  But despite all of that, I was really intrigued to hear what the songs would turn out like with the full band behind them. If I’m honest, I was also pretty flattered to be asked to give an opinion.

  “Won’t the other guys mind?” I asked.

  Blake looked at me like I’d just hit my head reaaal hard. “Why the fuck would they? It’s not like they don’t know you, and Connor’s your boyfriend.” He said the last part like he was talking to someone incredibly stupid.

  “They might not want to hear my opinion. It’s not like I really know what I’m talking about.”

  “They won’t care. It’s up to me anyway, they’re my songs.” The possessiveness in his voice surprised me a little. I’d always just assumed they wrote all their songs together, that they belonged to all of them. “You’re coming.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I am?”

  “Yeah, you know you want to.”

  I couldn’t help laughing at his forwardness. “Okay, fine. I’ll come.”

  He broke into a smile and I couldn’t help but smile back. I don’t know what made me say what I said next, the words just kind of leapt out of my mouth.

  “Do you realize this is the first time that we’ve hung out together alone for longer than around ten minutes since I met you?”

  He was quick as a whip. “Was it as magical as you thought it would be?”

  “If by ‘magical’ you mean ‘tedious’ then yes, absolutely.”

  “Ha! Admit it, you love me serenading you.”

  I put my hands over my heart and did my best desperate groupie impression. “Oh, absolutely! I can’t believe I got a private concert from the lead singer of Sons of Sinners!”

  “Make fun of me now, in a few years, when the band takes off, people will be willing to pay thousands for that!”

  “Then you really will be a whore!”

  He barked a laugh. “Dammit, Princess,” he growled playfully. “You’re offensive as shit!”

  “I wasn’t ‘til I met you!” I jabbed him in the chest with my finger.

  We were both laughing when I heard the sound of footsteps on the front stoop, followed by the front door opening.

  I jumped up off the couch.

  I felt like I was just about to be caught with my hand in the cookie jar – although I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I felt like that.

  Blake shot me a curious look.

  Then Kane and Connor walked in.

  “Hey, I’ve been waiting for you!” I said, bounding over to Connor and hugging him.

  “Hey.” He pulled back and looked down at me questioningly.

  “Think she thought you’d show up a mangled mess after last time,” Blake spoke up dryly from the couch.

  THAT was a little weird, almost like he was covering for me – even though there was nothing to ‘cover’ me for.

  Connor grinned down at me. Last time he and Kane had ridden dirt bikes in the desert, Connor had come back battered and bruised. “I’m fine.”

  Kane snorted. “Yeah, fucker never came off once. I’m out of practice though, must’ve come off four times.”

  “Ha! Badly?” Blake asked.

  “Nah, just a few scrapes.” He gestured down to his ripped jeans.

  “Are you bleeding?” I asked, concerned.

  Kane shrugged.

  “Let me take a look?”

  “Nope, there’s no way you’re getting on your knees in front of Kane.” Connor joked.

  “Hey!” I wacked him on the arm. “
You’re worse than Blake!”

  “I resent that.” Blake piped up.

  “I’m good Amy, don’t worry.” Kane said amiably.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah, I’ve had worse.”

  Blake started laughing. “Con, remember his birthday? The tequila?”

  Connor sniggered. “Still got that scar on your ass, man?” he asked Kane.

  I bit my lip to stop from laughing too, even though I’d heard the story of Kane’s twenty first birthday at least a half dozen times by then, it still made me chuckle every time.

  “Alright, I’m out.” Kane shook his head and headed to the kitchen.

  Connor turned to me. “Ready to go?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I put my hand in his and we turned towards the door.

  “Hey, Princess, don’t forget about tomorrow.” Blake called out from behind us.

  “What’s tomorrow?” Connor asked him.

  “She’s been helping me with a couple songs. She’s gonna come to practice and listen to them.” He looked back at me. “Tomorrow, right?” he asked.

  I hesitated. “Well, yeah, if it’s okay with everyone else.”

  “I told you, it’s fine,” he said without even looking at the others.

  I looked back at Connor, unsure. “Is it okay?” I asked.

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Um –”

  “See?” Blake broke in, still looking at me. “Not a problem.”

  “...okay, then,” I agreed.

  When we left the house, I was the one who leant in to Connor’s ear and whispered “Have you ever had sex on the roof of my apartment building?”

  51

  We scrambled up the fire escape and hopped over the wall onto the flat roof of the building. My feet had barely touched the ground before Connor grabbed me and pulled me into a deep kiss. He held my face in his palms as his lips moved over mine possessively.

  I bunched my hands in his shirt and threw myself into the kiss, chasing the familiar surge of lust that started to bubble inside of me.