Guitar Face Series Box Set: Books 1-4

by Sasha Marshall

  I hang around for another half hour while friends and family members give their goodbyes and condolences. I’m surprised to see Gary’s sister here. They weren’t in touch and last I heard they had some sort of falling out when I was a child. I don’t even remember her name. She hugs my neck though and tells me to call her if I need anything. I appreciate the sentiment, but the people I’d call are crowding around me like my own personal army.

  “Where’s your mother?” Gary’s sister asks.

  “I don’t know, and I don’t really care,” I answer honestly.

  She gives me a knowing smile but looks around for her anyway. I follow my aunt’s gaze when it lands on Pam and see her talking to a familiar face. What the fuck is he doing here?

  “Is that Chauncey Knox?” Cam asks.

  “Yeah. What’s he doing here?” I ask.

  Koi shrugs, “He must have heard about your dad’s death and came to offer support.”

  I knew he was a really great guy, but it floors me. When human beings do the unexpected to help someone or to raise their spirits it’s surprising but refreshing. I make a bee line to Chauncey to save him from the wench who gave me life. When I approach from the side, I notice Pam’s face is angry and her words are passing through clenched teeth.

  “Chauncey,” I greet.

  He turns from Pam to me and his face lights up, “Hey, Kip. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Pam barely lets him finish before she’s being a bitch, “Now you’ve told him. You can go.”

  “Why are you being such a bitch?” I shout at her.

  Guests turn and look at us once I yell out.

  “Kip, there are some things you don’t need to kn-…” Pam begins.

  “He’s not here anymore, Pam. You aren’t pulling this shit anymore. This shit was never right,” Chauncey interrupts.

  “What. In. The. Fuck. Are. You. Two. Talking. About?” I yell.

  “Kip…” Pam begins.

  “Nah, you can shut the fuck up. How in the hell do you two know each other?” I ask.

  “Shut up, Chauncey,” Pam seethes.

  “Why should I?” he asks.

  “You do not get to come back after all these years and turn my life upside down!” she adds.

  “All these years? This was never about you!” Chauncey shouts.

  Henley appears beside me and hooks her arm through mine, “What’s going on?” she asks.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out since I got here,” I sigh and run my hand over my face.

  “Tell him, Pam,” Chauncey orders.

  “No. Don’t do this,” Pam begs.

  “I need alcohol,” I say.

  It appears I will be arguing with gigantic two-year-olds today.

  “Tell. Him.” He says through clenched teeth.

  “You don’t want to do this,” Pam begins to cry.

  “I think he should,” Red says from my other side.

  “Stay the fuck out of this, Red,” Pam orders.

  Uh-oh.

  “The fuck you just say to me?” Red asks calmly.

  “For once, mind your own damn business!” Pam screams.

  “I’m minding my business. You going to tell this boy what you came here to say?” Red asks.

  “I swear to God, if you say one fucking word I’ll kill you in your sleep,” Pam threatens Chauncey.

  “You’re my nephew,” Chauncey says to me.

  “What?” I ask in disbelief.

  “You’re related to her or Gary?” Henley asks with a sneer.

  “No,” Chauncey answers.

  I stare at the man waiting for more information.

  “My brother is your biological father,” Chauncey says.

  “You’ve done it now!” Pam screeches.

  “Shut the fuck up, Pam. I’ll put you over my knee and spank your ass if you say another word,” Red threatens.

  Pam glares at Red in response.

  “Your brother is my biological father?” I ask Chauncey.

  “Yes,” he answers.

  “You going to give me more than that?” I question.

  “Your mother had an affair on Gary close to thirty years ago, and you were the product of the affair. Pam made my brother believe she was leaving Gary for him so they could raise you together, but when Gary found out she was pregnant he beat her within an inch of her life and she almost miscarried you.”

  “Is that true?” I ask my mother.

  She only nods.

  “Who is my real father?” I ask.

  “Beau Knox,” Pam answers.

  “Holy shit,” Henley murmurs.

  Chapter 7

  Henley

  I think Hell just froze over. It was bound to happen in this crazy life we live, but this one takes the fucking cake.

  “What did you say?” Kip asks as he takes a step towards Pam.

  He looks ready to kill her so I look behind me for reinforcements. I make eye contact with Memphis and Jagger and nod my head towards Kip. All the men in our family hurry over.

  “Beau Knox is your father,” Chauncey repeats Pam’s secret.

  “Beau Knox as in the lead singer of Porcelain Butane?” Kip asks.

  Holy mother of God and baby Jesus, too. If this is true, Kip was a prince of rock-n-roll long before he picked up drum sticks.

  “Yes,” Chauncey verifies.

  “If that is the truth, then why in the fuck isn’t he here?” Kip asks.

  “He is,” Chauncey answers.

  Kip looks around, as do all of us, but we don’t see Beau Knox.

  “I didn’t intend on having this conversation here, but your mother was upset by my attendance. I was going to simply watch to make sure you are okay while Beau watched from the car. He was going to find you tomorrow to tell you, so I apologize for the manner in which this occurred,” Chauncey apologizes.

  Kip stands in a circle of people who love him, a mother who deceived him, and his long lost uncle. He’s eerily quiet for what seems like a decade. He pulls his arm from me, rubs both his hands over his face, and paces in a small circle. He reminds me of a snake coiled and ready to launch at any moment.

  “I can’t fucking do this right now,” Kip shakes his head and speaks to no one in particular.

  I’m at a loss for words myself, and I don’t know how to help him.

  He puts his finger in Pam’s face and Koi steps in between them to keep Kip from laying her ass out, “You’re fucking dead to me. I told you I was done when this funeral was over, but you’re dead to me. Don’t call me, text me, or fucking write. You do not exist to me. You understand me?”

  “Kip, please just listen to me…” Pam begins.

  “No!!!” he screams at the top of his lungs. “I will not listen to anything you have to say! You lied to me for all these years. I lived with a man I thought was my father, and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why he fucking hated me so much. I get it now, loud and fucking clear!”

  “Kip,” I say softly in an attempt to reign him in.

  “No!” he screams at me and I flinch.

  I can hear him breathing and he’s trembling with rage.

  He points his finger toward Chauncey, “And you, you tell Beau Knox I said ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’ That asshole left me in a house where I was either treated like a fucking house maid, a punching bag, or a failure. Where was he when I needed him?” he screams.

  “Kip,” Chauncey steps forward and tries to calm him.

  “No!!! Stop fucking Kipping me! I’m done. Fuck all three of you and the dead mother fucker in the ground.”

  Kip spins on his heel and walks away from us all. I begin to chase after him, but Koi grabs me.

  “Don’t, Hen. He needs to get his head on straight,” Koi says.

  It’s difficult not to run after him and make it all better. It’s not easy to know he’s suffering and I can’t fix it.

  Before the th
ought can complete in my mind, I turn on Pam and slap the shit out of her.

  “You’re such a cunt!” I yell.

  ***

  Going home after a funeral without the man I went with makes me feel like something is missing. I guess it’s similar to taking your dog to the vet and having to leave him there. I left my home this morning to be with Kip, and now he’s not here. He hasn’t called, hasn’t text, and hasn’t shown in hours.

  I walk the path to my grandfather’s studio hoping maybe he’ll eventually show here. When life fails you, this place always seems to be the rock you can hide under. The smell of whiskey and smoke, and the sound of music takes away sorrow and despair for a little while. It reminds you of good times, of earlier times when all you dreamed of was being a rock star. This building takes all the hurt, tears, and anger and shapes them into melodies, lyrics, and stories told through instruments.

  When I open the door, I smell the studio immediately and no matter how much I’m worried about Kip, it brings a smile to my face. After I flip on the lights, I take in the pictures hung in frames around the studio. There are pictures of legends in here. Many of them held me when I was a baby, and the black and white photographs show their gentle hands cradling me. I don’t remember meeting some of these men, so it’s surreal to know they held me. There are pictures of my grandfather as a child with his long black hair and eyes that had already seen hard times. The pictures that pull at my heartstrings the most are the ones that document us growing up around this place.

  The door opens and Koi steps through.

  “You were hoping he was here, too?” he asks.

  “Yeah.”

  He stands beside me taking in these moments we lived through. I take a picture of Caleb off the wall. He was only about fifteen, but he was in the midst of a guitar solo in the middle of the live room. His eyes were closed, his head titled to the right, and his fingers pulled the guitar upwards. He was so damn lost in whatever he was playing and anyone with eyes can see it. I smile at the memories of our childhood and the crazy road we drove down to stardom. The hurt and sorrow I once felt when I thought of him are now replaced with love and appreciation. I’ll always love him like a brother, but I also appreciate the time I was able to spend with him. It wasn’t long enough, but I was able to spend most of his life with him and we had some damn good times.

  After I place the picture back in its place, I find one of Kip and I. We were teenagers on our first national tour, and the photograph was taken of us on a tour bus after the show. We were both wiped out from both adrenaline and from working a stage for ninety minutes. Kip was fast asleep, leaning back on the arm of the bus couch, his feet dangling over the edge. I was sound asleep tucked into his chest, with his arm draped around me. What I’d give to have that now, just to know he’s okay.

  “Here,” Koi says and hands me a whiskey bottle.

  “Jameson?” I ask.

  “Smooth as hell but it hurts,” Koi snickers.

  “Yeah it does,” I agree and take a swig.

  “Have you text him?” he asks.

  “No. I’m scared to bother him, but I’m worried as hell.”

  “Shoot him a text. He doesn’t have to answer if he doesn’t want to.”

  I take his advice and send one.

  “I know you’re angry and hurting right now, and I don’t want to bother you. So… I guess I just wanted you to know I’m here waiting for you, and a little worried. I’m at the studio right now. I guess I was hoping you’d be here, but anyhow, I’m here when you’re ready. I’m always here, Kip.”

  I press send and find a couch to lounge on while I wait for a reply I’m not sure is coming. After a few hours of listening to a blues album Koi put on, I finally succumb to sleep. When I wake, Koi is asleep on a couch opposite from me. I immediately look for my phone in the covers and when I find it, the light blinks indicating I have a message.

  I notice it’s four a.m. as I unlock my phone. My face lights up when I see Kip’s name across my phone and I hurriedly slide the message open.

  “Go home, Henley.”

  That’s all the message says and my heart gets caught somewhere in my throat. I know it isn’t personal, but it still hurts. This must have been on some small scale what they all felt when I disappeared for two months on a drug binge. I’m ashamed they felt this for two months. I was selfish. Kip needs time he’s entitled to. If it wasn’t bad enough that the man he thought was his father treated him like shit his whole life, he finds out the man wasn’t even his father. What would Kip’s life be like if he’d had his real father?

  To find out after almost thirty years that your father is Beau Knox doesn’t help matters, I’m sure. We’ve met Beau before, and he never said a word to Kip or any of us. I find sleep for another few hours before Koi wakes me after the sun has risen, and as I reach for my phone I quickly realize Kip hasn’t communicated with me any further.

  ***

  Kip

  I walked away from all that bullshit. I buried Gary, my last duty as his son only to find out I’m not his son at all. If Pam’s reaction hadn’t been so dramatic, I wouldn’t believe Gary wasn’t my father, and I sure as fuck wouldn’t believe Beau Knox is.

  Beau Knox, rock star superstar since the 1980’s. He found success young and is in one of the few bands to live through the decades and changes in rock. He’s only forty-seven now, I looked that shit up on Google. He created a life young and then walked away from me. He left me in the clutches of a drunk, selfish woman, and an absent, emotionless man. I can’t believe he had the nerve to show at the funeral and then send Chauncey to do his bidding. Fuck that.

  I drove around for hours, having no clue where in the hell to go. I don’t want to be anywhere. I don’t want to look at my real family and answer their questions or pretend I don’t see their sympathetic glances. I don’t have answers for any questions they could have anyhow.

  My iPod shuffles to an ABB song, Please Call Home, and I take it as a sign. I drive to Rose Hill Cemetery. After taking a left, I drive over the hill and down the inline. After another right, I drive by Liz Reed’s grave and park close by. I walk up the sloping hills that meet in the center of the two graves. It’s almost as if the universe knew two legends would find their final resting places here.

  I slide down the black iron gates and pull out a bottle of vodka. It’s almost dark so they’ll close the gates with me in here. I won’t have a choice but to stay the night. At least no one will find me for a while, so I can work through this shit in my head.

  “Cheers, Duane. Cheers, Berry,” I lift my bottle to the men behind me and take a swig.

  Shit, they get it. The stories of the drugs these men used in this very cemetery and then subsequently made fucking amazing music is legendary around here. Many of their songs were actually written near here, around the bend in front of Liz Reed’s grave.

  I light a cigarette as the sun fades into twilight.

  “May I sit?” a voice asks.

  Normally, I’d be startled in a dark cemetery, but I’ve got too much other shit running through my brain to allow any more space for additional B.S.

  “Whatever,” I say and take another swig from my bottle.

  Of course, Beau Knox sits down beside me. Father of the fucking century right here.

  “I guess you have a lot of questions,” he starts.

  “You should at least say hello to Duane and Berry, respect must be shown,” I grin at myself.

  “I’d pay a large amount of money to have been able to sit back and observe these guys in this cemetery in the late 60’s,” Beau says.

  “Yeah. I’ve heard many stories about LSD, pot, shrooms, and basically any shit they could use to find whatever higher place they needed to get to create that shit.”

  “A lot of musicians used hallucinogens in those days.”

  “Made for some great fucking music.”

  “You got that right,” he chuckles.
r />   Silence stretches between us as we sit among the remains of the dead. I don’t know how he found me here, and I don’t really care enough to ask. Maybe one day I’ll find it cool as hell that he’s my dad, but right now I just don’t have room for it.

  “I came for you… so many times,” he says.

  “Funny, today was the first time I’ve ever heard about you,” I retort.

  “Gary almost killed you twice.”

  “What?” I ask with as much attitude as I can muster.

  “Can I tell you the story? I’m hoping you’ll understand when I do. After I say what I’d like to say, you can either take time to digest it, tell me to go fuck myself, or call me dad. It’s your choice,” Beau offers.

  I nod in agreement.

  He lets out a big sigh and I realize I look just like him. I make the same face when I’m frustrated.

  “Gary and I grew up together in Daytona Beach. We lived on the same block. He was a couple years older than me, but shit back then we didn’t have video games or shit like that. So, anyhow we stayed in the street as long as the weather was good. The entire neighborhood stayed out until the street lights came on. He enlisted in the Marines at 17 and found out your mom was pregnant shortly before he went off to basic. As you know, his mother is a devout Roman Catholic, and she believed pregnancy equated marriage and forced the two to get married. Your mom lost the child early in the pregnancy while Gary was still in boot camp.”

  “He came home on leave for a few weeks afterwards and was shipped straight to Germany. I don’t know if the Marines didn’t allow your mom to go with him or if she didn’t want to go. Hell, she was only still 17 when they were married. Gary was over there for four years, and no one heard much out of him, including Pam. Eventually I guess she felt like she needed to move on with her life regardless of her marital status. I can’t say I really blame her, she was lonely as hell for four years. When I was 18, our first record was released, and she came out to a show we played in Atlanta. She was a couple years older than me, but I’d nursed a crush on her since I was old enough to get wood.”

  “She came to the concert with a bunch of Daytona Beach kids we grew up with, and we partied like hell. She and a bunch of other women followed us on tour that entire year. It was the 80’s, we were young, and shit was crazy man.”