Guitar Face Series Box Set: Books 1-4

by Sasha Marshall

  “Memphis, that’s a cool ass name,” I say. “Like Memphis Raines!”

  “No, it’s Memphis Hendrix,” he deadpans.

  “No shit, that’s cool as hell, we have the same last name,” I smile. That’s cool as hell.

  “Yes, the same one our father gave us,” he stares, his face expressionless.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Our father gave us the same last name, Henley,” he answers, and uses my name like he’s known me my entire life.

  “Our father?”

  “Your father, my sperm donor, Derek Hendrix.”

  “Is this some kind of joke?” Rhys asks.

  “Do you not see the resemblance?” Memphis asks.

  We all stare at him, and sure enough he’s the spitting damn image of my father. This has to be coincidence. My face must clearly voice what my words cannot.

  “Thank you for your time,” he says as he exits the stage, and three pairs of eyes are instantly on me. I want to run after this man who says he’s my brother, but I am still trying to process what just happened. Then it hits me, it’s what everyone is hiding from me. Why would they hide this? How did they find out?

  I gather my wits, and storm out of the theater, only to realize I rode here with Kai, we all did. Fuck, I am stuck. I turn around to see the three men hurrying to the car. Kai opens the doors, and we enter. The drive is quiet.

  “Hen, you want to talk about it?” Griffin asks.

  “Can we turn the music up? Loud.” I ask.

  Kai turns the dial, and blasts Tool through the speakers. When we reach the studio, I jump into the car, and drive home. On the way, I text Koi, Jessica, Samantha, and Jagger.

  Me: Get your asses over to my house right fucking now! I don’t give a shit what you’re doing, drop it, and be there in the next hour, or I swear to everything holy, I will hunt each of you down and give you the ass kicking of a lifetime. Don’t fucking test me on this!

  Several texts come through, but I don’t give them the time of day. I call Red instead.

  “Lo,” he answers.

  “Memphis Hendrix,” I simply state.

  “Wellllll, damn,” he confirms.

  “At Christmas, you said there were things I didn’t know, and it wasn’t your place to tell it. I respect your decision because she’s your daughter, and he’s practically your son. I don’t respect anyone else’s decision to hide the fact that I have a brother. How in the hell does everyone know, and why am I the only one who doesn’t?” I ask.

  “Everyone else, Sug’?” he asks.

  “There was a blow out at my house awhile back when I walked in on Jessica and Koi talking about the miscarriage of Caleb’s baby after he died. One thing led to another, and I asked what else I didn’t know, and the guilty parties in the room hung their heads.”

  “Wasn’t aware Jessica had a miscarriage, much less with Caleb’s baby.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you knew about Jessica or not. Apparently, all of my friends and brother knew about Memphis except for Stephanie, Kip, Kathrine, Rhys, and Griffin. At least I am guessing this is the dirty little secret they share.”

  I walk into the house on the phone with Red, and Kip eyes me up and down. Someone must’ve text him.

  “I wasn’t aware anyone other than your parents and your grandmother knew about Memphis other than myself, Sug’.”

  “Why didn’t dad have anything to do with his child? He may have been a great father to me, but it doesn’t excuse him being a dead beat to another child. This completely goes against his character.”

  “Back in the early eighties, things were different with custody than they are now. Your dad has tried for 29 years to be a father to that boy. I have the proof to show it. He has written thousands of letters, sent gifts for every occasion, tried to buy the boy a car and pay for his college, but all attempts were shut down. The letters still come back as return to sender, with the same handwriting as in the early days. Not even sure if Memphis knows Derek tried to contact him throughout the years.”

  “Well it is about time we make sure he does. Where is all this stuff?”

  “I rented a storage building ten years ago when it overflowed from the storage in the studio. Your dad doesn’t know. I catch the mail every day before he has a chance to have his heart broken again and again.”

  “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure, Sug’.”

  “Hire someone to load it all into a moving truck, and I will find an address for you to send it to tomorrow.”

  “You sure about this, Hen?”

  “No, but that seems to be a theme in my life lately.”

  “I sure am sorry to hear about you losing that baby. Wish I knew how to help ease your pain.”

  “Thanks, Granddaddy.”

  “So, you gonna tell me how you found out about Memphis?

  I recounted the entire story of his audition with the same awe that was present while it was happening. I also relay how much I want him in the band, especially if he is my brother.

  “Why do you think he showed up to audition, knowing you are his sister?”

  “Have no idea, but I intend to find out.”

  “You’ve been a feisty little thing since you could walk,” he laughs. “Your daddy showed me the video of you opening a can of whoop ass on that Robins girl. Met her daddy once, and he’s a piece of work too. You did good on that one, Sug’. Probably going to hell, but I got a good laugh outta that one.”

  “Did you see Kip’s ridiculous shit outside of the precinct?”

  “Everybody in Georgia saw the entire ordeal from the fight, to the arrest, to Kip. We were mighty proud of our Georgia girl.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow with the information for Memphis. Love you old man.”

  “Love you too, baby girl.”

  I hang up with him, grab Kip by the arm, pick Cash up, and take us to the beach so I can tell Kip the entire story before the crew arrives.

  “What the fuck?” Kip asks.

  I tell him the entire thing, from start to finish.

  “Your life just gets better and better.”

  “You telling me? Gone are the days where I lived to play the guitar and perform for fans. Now I have shit landing on my front door step every fucking day it seems.”

  “Well the awesome part of this is, you have a brother, with a cool ass name, and we will deliver your dad’s shit to him. They will meet, form an amazing bond, and this shit will be one less thing for you to deal with.”

  “Keep saying that. I need it to work out just like that.”

  As we walk up the deck, the crew is waiting on me. Kip and I sit on the rail of the deck.

  “How’d you know about Memphis?” I ask Koi.

  Shock crosses his face, “Jesus Christ Hen, did you dig until you figured it out?”

  “No asshole, he auditioned for Abandoned Shadow today. Might I add, he is a phenomenal guitarist, and after he rocked out for an hour, I asked his name and discovered it is Memphis Hendrix. I thought it was an awesome coincidence we share the last name, but he set me straight. Now, how did you know?”

  Koi runs his hands through his hair, and the rest of our group watches us like a tennis match.

  “I ran into him at a bar right before Caleb died. He told me who he was, and I didn’t believe the shit. I hired a private investigator and found out he is indeed our brother. I didn’t tell you because by the time I verified his story, Caleb had passed. I spoke to our friends, and we all agreed it wasn’t the best time to tell you.”

  “So when were you going to tell me?”

  “I wasn’t. If Memphis or Dad wanted you to know, it was their place to tell you.”

  “That’s bullshit, Koi. You would’ve been the first person I called, and that fucking hurts.”

  “Henley! You were a fucking zombie for over a year. I was not going to hinder your healing when you began to live again.”

  “I am sick
and tired of everyone treating me like a fragile fucking piece of glass. Lying by omission is still lying. Lying equals betrayal in my book, and I have had enough of the people in my life betraying me. Everybody seems to be hiding something, and I won’t tolerate it anymore. We’ve all been friends long enough to consider one another family, so here me when I say this, I will not put up with it anymore. None of you would tolerate it, so don’t fucking expect me to.”

  “Fair enough,” Koi agrees, and the rest of the group voices their agreements.

  “We’re done here, thank you for coming over,” I dismiss the people I love because I am still angry with them.

  “You still mad?” Jessica asks.

  “Yes. I need time to calm down, but I will. As long as we understand each other and what is expected of our friendships, we will all be fine,” I say.

  “I understand,” Jessica says, and they depart in awkward silence.

  “Well that went well,” Kip laughs.

  I roll my eyes just as Jagger sticks his head back through the French doors.

  “Hen, you have a minute?” he asks.

  I sigh, “Sure.”

  Kip leaves us to talk.

  “Hen…I uh…”

  “Just spill it, Jagger.”

  “I left you this morning with no explanation, and I’m sorry. You have so much going on in your life, and I seem to keep adding to the pile. I left because I don’t think I could’ve survived you waking up and pretending it didn’t happen. I can’t deal with the uncertainty of not knowing where you and I stand after that. It was intense, yeah?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Like I said, you have a lot going on in your life, and I think it is pretty unfair of me to continue to add worries to your list. I will give you some space and let you figure all this out. Maybe when we are both in a better place, you and I might be able to make something work between us. If not, I want you to remember, you were my friend first, and eventually I would like for you and I to get back to that. It would mean a lot.”

  “I think we could eventually do that,” I agree.

  “Good. Listen, I was in the middle of something when you text, so I need to get out of here. I am glad you found Memphis, and I really am sorry I hid it from you,” he says.

  “I appreciate that.”

  Jagger leaves without another word, and I replay the short conversation over and over again. He may be able to stay away from me, but that doesn’t mean I want to stay away from him any longer. I miss him, but he’s right. I have a great deal of other things going on, and I don’t have the time to devote to working things out between Jagger and I, no matter how much I may want to.

  ***

  Jagger

  “Hello?” I answer while rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

  “She delivered the child this morning at three a.m. in Las Vegas,” Meghan says.

  “How long before I get the results?” I ask my friend and attorney.

  “The best way for us to do this is to fly you out there. If I mail a sample, she will only drag this out as long as possible. I am almost sure she’ll question the sample. We need to go directly to the hospital and give them a sample of your DNA. For the amount of money you are willing to spend you will have results within twenty-four hours,” she states.

  “When can we leave?”

  “I’ll have my secretary book us a flight immediately and call you with the details. You should only need one change of clothes. I’ll have a car service prick you up,” she says.

  I pack my bag for Vegas, and a car service retrieves me from my apartment four hours after I initially spoke to Meghan. I call my dad on the way to the airport to tell him the news. He wishes me luck, but what he really means is ‘I hope this child isn’t yours’. That makes two of us, dad. Meghan is waiting for me at security. We didn’t have time to charter a private jet, so we’re flying commercial. Hat and sunglasses in place I brave the walk and am relieved when I find Meghan. She is all dolled up in her pinstriped suit, typing something out on her iPad. The woman never stops working.

  “Jag,” she says as a greeting.

  “Let’s get this over with, yeah?”

  “Sounds good.”

  The flight is short, but each second that passes seems like an hour. We check into a hotel and head straight for the hospital. The quicker I can get my mouth swabbed, the quicker I can get results. My chest is tight, nerves standing on end. The swab is quick and I pay a ridiculous amount for the results to be processed within twenty-four hours. I score some Xanax when Meghan turns in for the evening and swallow both pills. I need to go to sleep or I will drive myself crazy.

  “Get up,” Meghan says and I squint as the light pours in through the curtains. “You ready?”

  “Do you have the verdict?” I ask hopeful.

  “No, I have to go pick up my copy of the results. You might as well go with me.”

  I dress without showering. I need to know right now. I need to know if I can fight for Henley without having a child to complicate matters. The ride back to the hospital is short, but once again it seems like an eternity before we enter the office of the lab where Meghan gives her name and requests the results.

  She rips open the large envelope as soon as she can touch it and begins turning pages until she comes to the answer the entire fucking world seems to want.

  “It’s not yours. You are not the child’s father,” she says and sighs with relief.

  I almost lose consciousness at the relief coursing through my body. I will not be a father yet. I no longer have to deal with Claudia’s crazy ass. I can fight for Henley now. I pick up my phone to call her. She has to be the first person I call.

  “What are you doing?” Meghan asks.

  “I need to tell Hen.”

  “No. You need time to process this. I need to coordinate with Sam to develop a plan to deal with this publically. You need time before anyone else knows. Call your parents and that is it,” she orders.

  “Meghan, I fucked up with Hen. She should be the first person I tell. She has to be the first person I tell,” I plead.

  “Do you think it will erase everything? This doesn’t absolve you of hiding this from her. You need to figure out how to best approach her with this, and how you can convince her to give you another chance. I’m sorry Jagger, but you can’t expect to call her and her be elated at your news. I’m sure she will be more than relieved, but it doesn’t change a whole hell of a lot between you two. The damage has been done. Figure out how to deal with that damage and not rely on this piece of information to mend your relationship.”

  I almost throw a string of insults at her, but fuck, she’s right. This won’t fix us. I hadn’t thought of that. My mind spins and I’m reeling with the possibility that this won’t ever fix shit. I’m not a father, but it doesn’t change how bad I fucked up. How did I so naively rely on this answer to fix things with her?

  “I need a drink,” is all I can muster.

  Meghan flies back to L.A. leaving me in the city of sin by myself, at my insistence. I drank two beers at the hotel bar, but I need to get out of here. I’m so wrapped up in my head, and can’t find a way to crawl out. I’m going crazy. I realize I’ll never be good enough for Henley. All I ever do is hurt her. I need to move on with my life so she can have a clean break and move on with hers. She deserves that much after everything I put her through. I need to distance myself from her, and if that doesn’t work, I need to push her away. All I’ll ever do is hurt her. I hurt her even when my intentions are the exact opposite. I shower in my room, and land at a nearby club on the strip not far from my hotel room. I need to get drunk and fuck something. I need to get under something.

  When I emerge from the limo, the line stretching around the brick building goes crazy. My name passes as a shout from their lips, and any other day, I would smile and sign autographs. Today, I’m don’t want to be Jagger Carlyle, the rock star. I just want to lose myself in a bot
tle of something expensive, like any other Joe Blow would. A gorgeous brunette meets me at the bar, announcing herself as the manager of this fine establishment. She pleads with me to use the VIP lounge, and after my efforts to stay put go unheard, I follow her to the lounge. I watch her ass move in the tight red dress that’s painted on her body as she leads the way. I need to fuck some strange. If I can get lost in a sea of pussy, I can forget about her for a little while. She’ll never take me back. I was naive to ever believe a negative paternity test would do the trick.

  “Would you like me to have your waitress continue your order of Macallan?” she asks.

  I smile mischievously at her, flashing the dimples women love so much, “I’d prefer if you continued to refill my whiskey.”

  She blushes under my gaze, and I know she is normally a confident woman. She wouldn’t be in this position if she wasn’t, but this little bird just showed her hand. She has a thing for me, if she didn’t, she would politely come up with an excuse why she couldn’t fulfill my request.

  Instead, she looks down at her shoes for the briefest of moments, relaying only to the watchful eye her fondness of the public image of me. She doesn’t know the real me, she knows the bad boy who graces the covers of magazines, exposing everything but my cock. That’s the man she wants tonight, and that’s the man she will get.

  “Let me take care of a few things, Mr. Carlyle, and I’ll join you momentarily,” she says attempting to reinforce her confidence.

  I nod in agreement and sit at a corner booth in the VIP section. The section is partitioned from the rest of the club by tinted glass windows that run from floor to ceiling. The lighting is always extremely low in these sections, to give celebrities the opportunity to be free to behave as they wish without everyone seeing. I can barely see across the lounge, and that’s exactly how we like it.

  A group of girls in the corner directly in front of mine catches my eye. One is wearing a tiara with some sort of sash across her chest. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out these girls are celebrating a bachelorette party. They are some of the easiest prey for a man who wants to get laid. The bride-to-be will either be so completely in love with her fiancée or she’ll be primed for one last romp. If the bride isn’t an option, the single girls in her company are questioning when they will find their own prince charming, and those panties slide off the easiest. Insecurity does things to a woman’s libido.