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

by Grace James

  Then the warm body jerked – and catapulted me from the narrow couch onto the hard floor.

  I shrieked in shock.

  “Wha? Wha the fug?” Connor squinted at me sleepily over the edge of the couch.

  “You knocked me off!” I accused.

  Booming laughter filled the room. I frowned up at Connor, but it wasn’t him. “Damn, I wish I had that on film!” Kane’s voice sounded strangled. “That was priceless!”

  I stood up and glared at him.

  He was standing in the kitchen, cereal bowl in hand and a spoon half way to his mouth, his face was beet red as he doubled up laughing. At the sight of me standing there, staring him down, he started to cough. “Shit!” he gasped. “Fruit Loop went down wrong.”

  “Serves you right!” I said, trying desperately not to laugh.

  Connor sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face, yawning. “Thought you weren’t staying over.” He said wryly.

  I plopped back down next to him and tried to smooth my rumpled shirt. “That last movie was too boring, I couldn’t help falling asleep.” We were both still fully dressed. “Anvil is not for me,” I muttered.

  Kane sat on the couch across from us, now fully recovered and eating his cereal again. “I’m gonna take the bike out to the desert again today. You wanna come?” He was looking at Connor.

  Connor glanced at me. “Amy’s here…” I could hear the regret in his voice and knew that he wanted to go.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Go, Connor, we can hang out later.”

  Connor looked at me, doubt in his eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked. “You’re not gonna get mad again?”

  I really resented that comment, but I didn’t want to bite in front of Kane. So I rolled my eyes and grinned instead. “It’s fine. Go. Have fun. To be honest, I should probably study anyway.”

  “Awesome, man.” Kane said, obviously taking our exchange as acceptance of his invitation. “We should all get out of here anyway,” he continued quietly. “You know what day it is?” He raised his eyebrows at Connor.

  Connor sighed. “Shit, yeah, I forgot. We should go.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s the anniversary of my aunt’s death. We should all clear out. Blake will want us gone.”

  Understanding hit me, Blake’s mother died on this day.

  Of course he would want to be alone.

  I got to my feet and started to fold Connor’s blankets neatly onto the couch. Connor disappeared to the bathroom for a few minutes, then re-emerged and shoved on his sneakers.

  “I’ll just use the bathroom and freshen up,” I said, gesturing to my rumpled clothes – and no doubt puffy eyes. “Then I’ll take off.”

  Connor nodded and crossed the room, pecking a kiss to my lips. Then he and Kane left – it seemed like they couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  I grabbed my cosmetic bag out of my purse and went into the bathroom and washed up. I washed my face and brushed my teeth with the spare toothbrush that I kept in the bathroom cabinet. As I was brushing my hair, I heard music start to blare through the wall, from Blake’s room. It was loud and angry – I recognized Duality by Slipknot among others.

  It made me wince. I could only imagine his pain.

  I pulled open the door and walked back to the couch, picking up my purse and throwing in my cosmetic bag, phone and the few other things that I’d left lying around. Suddenly, the music got louder and I looked up to see Blake’s door opening.

  He stepped out of his room and stopped short, scowling at me. “Fuck, I thought you all left,” he said, gruffly.

  “The guys have gone. I’m just getting my stuff and then I’m going too.”

  He grunted and walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge and staring into it for a minute before shutting it again, empty handed. Then he just stood, one hand resting flat on the front of the fridge. His back was to me so I couldn’t see his face, but I could see the tension in his shoulders and back.

  I felt awful for him.

  I shrugged in to my jacket and gathered up my purse, hooking it over my shoulder, before turning towards the front door. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I turned back to look at him; he was still leaning on the fridge.

  He looked so alone.

  “Blake?” I said. He didn’t reply, but I saw his fingers turn white against the fridge door. “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  Well, that was...honest.

  “Kane told me what day it is. Is there anything I can do?”

  He sighed deeply and turned to face me. I could see the tension around his eyes and his jaw was clenched. “What could you do?” The question seemed genuine, it wasn’t a taunt.

  I opened my mouth to answer, but found that I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  He snorted, shook his head slightly, and then walked back into his bedroom. The music stopped abruptly and then he emerged back into the living area. “I’m going to the cemetery,” he said. “If you’re ready to leave now I can lock up.” He walked past me and grabbed his keys, then opened the front door and stood back, waiting for me to leave.

  “I could come with you,” I offered.

  His eyes narrowed. “To my mom’s grave? Why would you want to do that?”

  “My grandma died when I was ten,” I blurted out.

  Blake closed his eyes briefly. “Look, I can’t do this right now –”

  “I know, Blake,” I walked towards him. “But just listen, just for a minute, please?”

  He shook his head and sighed again, but he made no move to leave.

  “She was my mom’s mom,” I continued. “I don’t remember a lot about her, but I do remember how devastated my mom was when she died. She cried for days, it was horrible. And every year, on the anniversary of my grandma’s death, my dad goes with her to the cemetery to visit her grave. My mom visits her grave by herself all the time, but for some reason, on the anniversary of my grandma’s death, my dad always goes with her. Because its worse, isn’t it? Today, it’s worse?”

  Blake was staring at me. When I stopped talking, he nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “Okay,” I said firmly. “Then I’ll drive.”

  We stopped at a gas station on the way to the cemetery and, while I filled the tank, Blake picked out a colorful bunch of flowers. It was a vibrant bouquet of oranges, yellows, reds and blues – the colors looked artificial, like they’d been spray painted on; they were garish, not particularly tasteful, but cheerful and carefree.

  He noticed me eyeing the flowers as he climbed back into the car. “Not stylish enough for you, Princess?” he asked with a slight edge in his voice.

  “Actually I like them. They’re fun. All the others looked a little boring.”

  A faint smile crossed his lips. “I picked the right ones then,” he said quietly.

  The cemetery was vast and sprawling, a green and fertile spread of land with tombstones jutting up like teeth from the gums of the earth. The powder blue sky stretched above and the place was alive with the chatter of birds. It was a contradiction; so much life in a place of death.

  I walked a little behind Blake, following him as he wove through the graves. When we reached a tree with an iron bench at its base, he gestured to it. “Wait there.”

  “You don’t want me to come with you?”

  “She’s just over there.” He pointed to a modest headstone a couple of rows away. I could see the inscription engraved on the front: Louisa Maxwell. Loving mother and wife.

  “Okay. Take as long as you need. I’ll be here.”

  Blake nodded and turned away.

  I sat on the cold bench and watched him approach the grave. I saw him crouch down and lay the flowers down tenderly; then he sank to the ground and sat, elbows propped on his knees, with his head bowed.

  My eyes misted, watching him there. I wanted so desperately to comfort him, to make him feel less alone. He’d told me to stay put but, after a while, I couldn’t stand it any longer
. I stood up and approached him; when I was a few feet away he lifted his head and looked at me.

  His face was etched with grief and rising anger. “I said to wait there.”

  I knelt down next to him. “I know.” I slid an arm around his shoulders, but he was so broad that I had to stop short and place my palm on the crook of his neck instead. I waited for him to pull away, but he didn’t, he just stared at me, a world of emotion swirling in the depths of his eyes.

  “What are you doing?” he asked softly.

  “Comforting a friend,” I said, without missing a beat.

  He raised his eyebrows a tiny bit.

  I offered him a small smile. “Didn’t you know? All the best friendships are built on mutual dislike.”

  He grunted a brief half-laugh and then turned his head away, fixing his gaze on the headstone. After a moment I leant my head against his shoulder, offering comfort the only way I knew how.

  We sat like that for a long time, surrounded by the cheerful calls of the sparrows and swifts.

  57

  The sound of a deep, male voice behind us made us both jump. “Son? Thought I might see you here.”

  Blake was on his feet almost instantly, leaving me kneeling on the grass, gazing up at the man towering over me. A man who was tall and broad, with dark hair flecked with grey. He looked to be around mid-forties. I knew who he must be, but there was very little similarity between him and Blake facially. In fact, he looked more similar to Connor in that regard, but then their fathers were brothers – so I guess Connor took on more of the Maxwell looks, and Blake must look more like his mother. The older man’s blue eyes and dark hair were identical to Blake’s though.

  I quickly scrambled to my feet beside Blake.

  “That’s funny, Dad, ‘cause I didn’t for a second think I’d see you here.” Blake’s voice dripped with malice.

  “I come here a lot, son, you’d know that if you ever spoke to me.” The older man spoke calmly.

  Blake snorted derisively. “Since when do you care about that?”

  “I’ve called you lots of times, been to the house too – and you know it.”

  The two men stared at one another silently and I could feel the tension rolling off of Blake in waves, cloying the air around us.

  Suddenly, the older man’s eyes flicked towards me and he looked a little abashed. “I’m Nate Maxwell, Blake’s father.” He held out a big hand to me.

  I hesitated for a second before I shook it, the hostility in Blake’s face making me cautious. “Amy Scott,” I said. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Maxwell.”

  It was a lie.

  Nothing about that moment was nice, but I had no idea what else to say.

  “Nice to meet you too, Amy. Please, call me Nate. Mr. Maxwell’s too formal.”

  “Okay –”

  “You done?” Blake cut in, stepping closer to his father, his stance hostile.

  “Just introducing myself to your girlfriend, Son, I don’t mean any harm.”

  I immediately got flustered. “Oh, I’m not his –”

  “You don’t get to fucking do that,” Blake interrupted, but he wasn’t looking at me, he was still focused intently on Nate. His voice was hard as he continued. “You had your chance for all that.”

  “I’m trying to make amends, if you’d just let me –”

  “No.”

  “Son, listen…” Nate was pleading, and I couldn’t help the feeling of pity welling up inside of me. Blake was an immoveable force when he’d made his mind up about something. I could see by the expression on Nate’s face that he knew he was fighting a losing battle, but he ploughed on regardless. “…just give me the chance to know you again.”

  “No.” Blake made to walk away.

  “It’s what she would have wanted.” Nate pointed at the pale tombstone. “She wouldn’t have wanted us to be strangers.”

  Quicker than my eyes could follow, Blake rammed into his father with both hands, knocking him flailing across the grass. “DON’T YOU EVER TALK TO ME ABOUT WHAT SHE WOULD’VE WANTED!” he roared, the tendons in his neck standing out like writhing snakes.

  The prone figure on the ground cringed under his fury.

  I should have been terrified. I knew that. I had never seen anyone that angry, not even Connor. The depth of rage that was bubbling out of Blake was tangible and fierce. It should have frightened the hell out of me.

  But he didn’t scare me.

  I reached out and curled my hand gently around his forearm. The muscles were rigid under my touch. “Blake, don’t do this here.” I said, forcing as much calm into my voice as I could muster.

  His eyes flicked to me and then away again.

  “You’re better than this.” I gave his arm a little squeeze. “Blake, you’re so much better than this.” I repeated.

  Abruptly, he pulled his arm away, wrenched it away, really. Then he was striding away through the cemetery.

  I turned to follow him.

  “Never thought I’d see the day he listened to somebody else.” Nate said diffidently. He was pushing himself to his feet shakily; it was strange to see such a big man look so small.

  “I don’t know if I’d call that listening exactly.” I said dubiously. My eyes were following Blake’s back as he made his way towards my car.

  “You known my boy long?” Nate asked.

  I turned back to him to see him looking at me with a hint of desperation in his expression. Maybe a hunger for information? I wasn’t sure I should give him any. Not after the way Blake had just shut him down. It felt disloyal to talk about him with a man he clearly didn’t want anything to do with.

  “Um, I should probably go.” I gestured across the cemetery. Blake was leaning on the car, his back to us.

  Nate nodded and smiled sadly. “You seem like a good girl. It’s nice to know he has someone who cares for him.”

  “I – um, yeah,” I stammered. I thought about clarifying the situation, making it clear that Blake and I were just friends, but I honestly didn’t see the point. So instead I just said “He has a lot of people who care about him.”

  As I started to walk away, Nate called after me, “Amy? Has he ever told you…do you know why he won’t speak to me?”

  I turned back to face him. “Mr. Maxwell –”

  “Nate.”

  “Right. Nate. I don’t really feel – I mean, I’m not comfortable talking with you about this behind his back.”

  He let out a long breath. “I guess I can respect that. Would you do me a favor?”

  “That depends on what it is.”

  He smiled a little at that. “Alright. Would you tell him I’m sorry for the way I treated him, for everything I did?”

  I bit my lip, feeling conflicted. I wanted to help Nate, something about him seemed so pathetic – but there was no way I would force Blake to talk about something that clearly caused him a lot of pain.

  “I can see you’re not going to make any promises,” he said after a moment.

  “I’m sorry –”

  “Don’t be. You’re loyal to him. Never apologize for that.”

  58

  When I reached Blake he was a wall of strain, hands bunched into fists at his sides, jaw clenched so hard it was a wonder his teeth weren’t shattering.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Can we just go?” His deep voice rumbled darkly.

  “Of course.” I unlocked the car and got in quickly, glancing at Blake as he settled into the passenger seat. He was pointedly not looking back at the cemetery. His eyes were fixed on the dash. I took the hint and got us out of there.

  I automatically started to drive back downtown, but half way there I got a better idea. I pulled into a parking lot outside a bar and grill that I’d gone to with the band a few times. It was called Rib Eyes and I remembered they did incredible ribs.

  When I shut off the engine, Blake double blinked, as though waking from a daydream. He peered around in mild confusion. “What are we doing h
ere?”

  “Lunch,” I said. “I’m starving. Are you hungry?”

  “Not really.”

  “Come in with me anyway?”

  For the first time since the cemetery he looked at me. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Do what? Eat?”

  His eyes flared with minor frustration. “You know what I mean. I’ll be okay, you don’t have to worry.”

  “Me? Worry about you?” I shot him a derisive look.

  “Yeah, right, forgot who I was talking to there for a minute.”

  “This is all about me. You know I can’t function without food.”

  A small grin flitted over his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You are high maintenance.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “That’s what I hear.”

  “I’ll bet you do,” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Come on, you can tell me what else my boyfriend says about me behind my back.” I teased as I grabbed my purse and got out of the car.

  “Shit, I walked straight into that one,” he complained half-heartedly as we walked towards the grill.

  The mouth watering aromas of barbequed meat greeted us as we entered the dim interior. It was all hardwood floors and chunky oak tables with red leather chairs. There was a bull’s head mounted on the wall over the bar and each table had a low hanging rawhide-covered lamp overhead.

  The waitress, a tall, curvy blonde who looked like she’d just finished up a photo shoot with Victoria’s Secret, led us to a table at the back of the restaurant. Standing next to her, I suddenly felt very conscious of the fact that I had no make-up on and was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. She flirted with Blake as she took our drinks order, touching his shoulder and giggling – which made her look kind of silly, because he didn’t even say anything funny.

  “So, Aiden’s really keeping you guys busy, huh?” I asked, after she had walked away, trying to pick a topic I knew he liked to talk about.

  His eyes lit up a tiny bit. “Yeah, he’s got a lot lined up. Did Con tell you we start recording the EP next week?”

  “Yeah, that’s exciting.”