Guitar Face Series Box Set: Books 1-4

by Sasha Marshall

  “Okay, just pretend I didn’t say anything about Henley. We’ll pretend I ended my speech with Derek and Grace won’t adopt me,” Kip offers.

  “No take backs on shit like that. When it’s in my brain, there’s no taking it back,” Koi retorts.

  “I don’t want your blessing anymore,” Kip huffs like a girl.

  We all laugh at these two idiots.

  Kip turns to me, “Memphis, can I be a Hendrix?”

  “I’m cool with it. You pretty much already are anyway. I don’t blame you one bit for changing your name,” I say.

  “Derek and Grace have given their blessing. Hen?”

  “So I’ll be fucking Kip Hendrix,” she asks mischievously.

  “Fuck,” Koi mutters.

  “Sugar Plum, it’s just a name. As long as it isn’t Gary’s, I’m happy,” Kip says to her.

  “Change it to something else,” Koi orders.

  “Like?” Kip jeers.

  “Like, Kip, I don’t know… Kip Flip, Kip Snip, Kip Slip…” Koi rhymes.

  “I’m not Dr. fucking Seuss,” Kip says.

  Henley and I are dying laughing.

  “Knock it off, Koi,” Derek warns.

  “He’s just jealous because I’m your favorite,” Kip says.

  “Bruh, you’ve been a Hendrix longer than you’ve been a Paxton. It’s only right and I don’t want you to be a Paxton any longer than you have to,” Koi says as he drops the playful banter and becomes serious.

  “Thank you. Hen?” Kip calls out.

  “I’m with Koi. You’ve always been a Hendrix,” she answers.

  “Thank you all so much,” Kip’s voice cracks a bit, and he looks down to hide his eyes.

  One-by-one we circle around him and pull him into a group hug.

  “It’s cool, I just got a little something in my eye,” Kip laughs it off.

  “Whatever. You have to be so fucking macho, pussy bitch,” Koi says.

  “I got your macho, mother fucker,” Kip fires back.

  “You mean that macho two-incher between your legs?” Koi jabs.

  “Ask your sister about my two-incher, ass face,” Kip retorts.

  “You mean our sister?” Koi smiles.

  Kip lunges a second before Koi does and the two end up wrestling all over the damn place pulling out old school wrestling moves.

  Kip manages to pick Koi up and lay him out, “Backbreaker bitch!”

  Koi gets up and eventually gets him back, “Choke Slam, cunt!”

  “Knock it off you two, you’re almost thirty years old,” Grace chastises but gives me a wink.

  “Why you just sitting there? You scared?” Kip asks me.

  “You ain’t ready for this shit,” I answer.

  “Oh, he thinks he can beat us,” Koi says to Kip.

  “I’ll take you both on, and win,” I put my beer down.

  “Bring it on pussy boy!” Kip yells.

  “Jesus Christ,” Henley shakes her head. “It’s like you all reverted to junior high.”

  I spend the next half hour fending off Kip and Koi and trying to stay off my back. Koi eventually gets me to tap out. I’m rusty and I’m thirty, but I’ll get a rematch. Dinner is served and we keep the banter up around the table. Food is thrown here and there and insults are the norm. I fucking love these people.

  “Got another favor to ask,” Kip says with a mouth full of food.

  “Were you raised by wolves? Chew your fucking food,” Koi says.

  “I know where you sleep,” Kip answers.

  “Kip, what do you need sweetheart?” Grace asks.

  “Would it be okay if I invite Beau and Chauncey for Thanksgiving?” he asks and everyone falls silent.

  “Of course,” Grace and Derek say in unison.

  “Thank you. I’ll call him tomorrow. I don’t know if he has any plans, so he might not be able to come,” he says as he prepares another hamburger.

  “Where do you put all that food?” I ask.

  The man has a bottomless pit for a stomach.

  “My cock,” he answers.

  I look at Henley who shrugs and smiles as if saying he’s right.

  “Sorry I asked.”

  ***

  Beau

  My phone rings with my son’s name on the screen. It’s the first time he’s ever called me. I almost don’t answer in time because I’m in shock.

  “Hello?” I ask.

  “Um... Beau?” he asks.

  “Yeah, Kip. It’s me,” I answer.

  “I know it’s late notice, but I was wondering if you and Chauncey have plans for Thanksgiving?” he asks and my heart constricts a little.

  “Nothing worth a damn,” I say full of hope.

  “I would like to invite you to Georgia for Thanksgiving. Well, the Hendrix’s and I would like to invite you,” he says nervously.

  “I’d really like that,” I say.

  “Henley has enough guest bedrooms for you both if you’d like to stay with us. The nearest hotel that’s not in the ghetto is over twenty minutes away.”

  “Oh, great. Yeah, that sounds better than staying in a hotel. I’m sure Chauncey will be relieved he doesn’t have to stay in another one,” I chuckle.

  “They get old fast. There’s nothing like your own bed,” he says from experience.

  “The road is hard on a man,” I add.

  “Yeah.”

  “So, how have you been?” I ask.

  “I’ve been okay. I read everything in the boxes. I looked at all the pictures too. I know you’re not lying. I don’t really… I don’t know what to…” he struggles.

  “It’s okay Kip. This will take a little time. As long as you know I meant everything I said, it will all work itself out,” I assure him.

  “Yeah,” he agrees.

  “I’m online now looking at flights. Would it be all right if we come in a day early to avoid flying on Thanksgiving?” I ask.

  “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll let Hen know so she can get your rooms ready. If you need anything special just let me know.”

  “We’re pretty easy going.”

  “So flying out that weekend would be hell too. I don’t know what your plans are for the days after, but you could extend your stay so it would be easier for travel and all,” he tells me.

  A part of me hopes he really means he’d like to spend more time with his uncle and me.

  “Flying during the holidays is a bitch. When’s your next show?” I ask.

  “Hold on let me look,” he says and I assume he’s flipping through his phone.

  “We’re playing Jacksonville the Friday after Thanksgiving.”

  “Would it be okay if we went with you? We’ll get out of your hair after that, I promise.”

  “That sounds really cool.”

  “I’ll text you our flight details. If anything changes let me know?”

  “Yeah. Thanks for coming on short notice Beau.”

  The call ends, and I fight the emotion that swells in my chest. He called me Beau. I’ve waited for him to call me dad for so many years. I hope one day I’ll hear it. It’s not his fault he never got the chance before now, but it stings like a bitch.

  Chapter 11

  Beau

  I nervously tap my fingers against the door of the town car Chauncey and I are taking from Atlanta Hartsfield Airport to Macon, Georgia. Each time I think about spending my first Thanksgiving with my son I want to smile like a loon and throw up at the same time. I’ve waited a long time for this. He knows I’m his father and waiting for him to completely embrace that is killing me.

  “Chill the fuck out,” Chauncey says.

  “Trying,” I say.

  “He’s a good kid,” he adds.

  “He’s not a kid, Chauncey, he’s a grown man. I missed so much. I’m jealous you’ve spent more time with him than I have. I wanted to be at the video shoot,” I admit.

  “Fate alig
ned the stars at the right time. I know this has hurt for a long time, but you can finally be with him. We all can.”

  “Tell me about him again. Don’t miss anything,” I plead.

  I hope as he recounts his story about his meeting and experience with Kip will pass the time as we inch slowly to my son.

  “He’s really artistic. He draws well and has a vision for videography that amazes me. You definitely passed that on from me,” he teases.

  “So humble.”

  “He wrote the song for Henley Hendrix. From what I witnessed, she wasn’t aware of his feelings. They were childhood friends as you already know, but until right before the video shoot he hadn’t made his feelings known. I did a little research, and she was in a pretty rough relationship with Jagger Carlyle. Anyhow, Kip’s a man in love, but it’s easy to see she loves him too. They bring out the best in each other. There were times I couldn’t stop laughing at the two, and times when I couldn’t bring myself to yell ‘Cut’ because the sexual chemistry was so palpable I didn’t want it to end.”

  “She’s a beautiful woman,” I admit.

  “She is. Kip is an extremely talented drummer but picked up the guitar from Henley a year ago or so. She taught him to play to begin with and he kept up with his own lessons. He’s more or less self-taught on both instruments. He wrote the song for her and recorded it.”

  I smile, “I’ve heard the song a million times. I keep in on repeat sometimes. His vocals are raspy and soulful.”

  “We both know being in love with a woman will either bring out the worst in you or hopefully the very best. She seems to bring out the best in him, and vice versa. I’m excited about staying at her house and meeting all this rock royalty,” he chuckles.

  “Hands off her, Chauncey. She’s Kip’s woman,” I chastise.

  “I’ve never been anything but professional with her. I would never move in on her, besides she’d probably shoot me. As you know she’s been in a sex tape courtesy of a stalker and then she killed said stalker when he broke in and tried to kill her. I’m not fucking with that one, but I’m not blind. I can look.”

  We pass the time talking about our father and sister who are eager to meet Kip. We didn’t want to overwhelm him with too much family at once so we did an early Thanksgiving in Daytona Beach before flying up to Georgia.

  When the car pulls down a country road I grow even more anxious. I send Kip a text to announce we’re near and moments later the long drive opens up into a beautiful pasture with a gorgeous old farm-style house in the middle. It’s a new house, but built to look older. My son stands on the front porch with Henley and a few other men.

  Chauncey tips the driver and we exit to follow the chauffer to the trunk. The large men on the porch meet us and help carry our luggage to the porch where Kip approaches us.

  “Glad you made it,” he smiles and extends his hand.

  “Thank you for having us,” I say.

  He shakes Chauncey’s hand as well and welcomes him.

  “Chauncey you remember Henley. Beau this is my girlfriend, Henley,” Kip introduces.

  “Hey Chauncey,” she grins and hugs his neck. She steps to me and offers her hand, but I look at Chauncey who’s smiling like a jackass and feel robbed.

  “He got a hug,” I argue.

  “Shit, he got it from him,” a man on the porch says.

  Henley chuckles and wraps her arms around my neck, “Yes he did. Lord help us all.”

  She pulls out of the quick hug, and I look at Kip questioningly regarding their comments.

  “They’re referring to the fact that we’re both so irresistible to women,” Kip says and grins like a Cheshire cat.

  Jesus Christ he does act like me.

  “Is that what we’re calling it now?” The man on the porch asks.

  “Beau and Chauncey please meet my future brother-in-law Memphis Hendrix. The other one is Rhys Ryan, drummer extraordinaire for Abandoned Shadow,” Kip introduces.

  “Let’s get you guys settled in,” Henley says.

  “Not so fast missy,” Kip says and picks her up to throw her over his shoulder.

  “I’m going to kick your ass in front of your dad and uncle if you don’t put me down jack leg,” she warns.

  “I’m not scared,” Kip laughs.

  “You should be. That’s 120 pounds of hopping hell,” Memphis says and I silently agree.

  He climbs the porch steps with her swearing at him like a sailor, and I’m glad he’s found a woman that won’t put up with his shit, or at least give it right back to him. Door mats aren’t attractive.

  The two of them show us to our rooms where Memphis and Rhys help lug our bags in. Henley and Kip announce they’re making dinner so we pile into the kitchen and each help make the sides for tacos. They include us in their banter and really make us feel welcome. I’m glad Chauncey already had a chance to meet all of them, so he doesn’t feel like a lone wolf.

  The front door shuts and a huge man walks through.

  “Joe!” Henley yells and throws her arms around his neck.

  After their embrace she introduces us, “Beau and Chauncey this is my goon, Joe. Joe, Beau is Kip’s dad and Chauncey is his uncle.”

  We shake hands.

  “Goon?” I ask.

  “He guards my body,” Henley winks.

  “The fuck you say?” Kip asks.

  “He’s a bodyguard,” she explains like he’s a child.

  “Fucker had malaria,” Kip pulls at his collar like he can’t breathe.

  “Don’t start that shit again,” Joe warns.

  “Is it hot in here to you? I think I’m coming down with it. Do I feel warm, blueberry?” Kip asks Henley and leans down so she can feel his head.

  She places the back of her hand and makes an ordeal of feeling for a fever.

  “Jesus, Joe you gave Kip malaria. And right before Thanksgiving!” she yells.

  “Not you too. You don’t pay me enough for this shit,” Joe grins.

  “You had malaria?” Chauncey asks.

  “No.” “Yes.” He and Kip say at the same time.

  “He got it in South America while he was protecting Henley from the jungle peepers. They almost got him because he cried like a bitch when Hen told him he was ill. It was very sad. I was so concerned for their safety,” Kip explains.

  “What the fuck is a jungle peeper?” I ask genuinely interested in his humor.

  “Bruh, those fuckers are cannibals that live in the jungles and creep around undetected until they sense your weakness. They jump out with automatic weapons and machetes. They cut your throat and watch you bleed out as you gurgle on your own blood, then they chop you up in portions and throw you over the fire to feed the village,” he says matter-of-factly.

  “I’ve lost my appetite,” Memphis says.

  “This fucker here,” Kip points to Joe, “is a warrior. He survived malaria and the jungle peepers and he kept my woman safe. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you dear sir.”

  “You can start by shutting the fuck up,” Joe smiles and throws a chip in his mouth.

  Kip seems to ponder his crude request for a moment, “No can do.”

  He turns back to the pan on the stove and continues cooking.

  “Welcome to the show,” Rhys laughs.

  I feel lighter and happier than I ever have. My son is a comical genius.

  After dinner, where Kip attempts to quarantine Joe from the rest of us, we dote on their dog Cash and watch some television before we call it a night.

  ***

  The following morning I wake to laughter and the smell of coffee and bacon. I throw some clothes on and follow the smell and sounds.

  “You’re burning the bacon!” Kip yells.

  “You started the shit!” Rhys yells back.

  “Henley!” Kip shouts.

  “Henley! Your boyfriend is a pussy!” Rhys follows.

  “Put the fucking gun down!”
Kip shouts.

  “You put yours down first!” I hear their voices coming from different directions in the kitchen as they move around.

  Please tell me these men aren’t playing with guns.

  “If you make me burn the bacon, Hen’s going to be pissed,” Kip announces.

  I sneak around the door frame a little afraid of getting shot. These two idiots are wielding water guns in the kitchen with bacon frying in the pan.

  “Good morning,” Henley says as she passes me.

  She stops in her tracks as she takes in the mess in her kitchen. Kip and Rhys freeze and take her in and then their mess. I watch with amusement.

  “Give me the fucking guns,” she orders and they both flinch but neither wants to surrender first.

  Henley picks up a nearby spatula, marches over to Kip, pops him in the face, snatches his gun, and repeats her assault with Rhys. They look like two children who’ve just been admonished by their mother.

  She marches up to me, “Would you mind putting these in your room where these two idiots can’t find them?”

  “Yes ma’am,” I answer with a smile.

  “Thank you,” she rolls her eyes.

  When I return to the kitchen, Chauncey is standing in the doorway with Memphis looking at the disaster zone.

  “What the fuck happened?” Memphis asks.

  “Kip and Rhys decided to cook us breakfast this morning, but their ADHD kicked in during the process and a water gun fight broke out,” Henley says.

  She throws wet cloths and cleaner at both Kip and Rhys, “Clean the shit up.”

  We watch them follow instructions and then huff to the coffee pot to pour a cup.

  “You woke her up to this shit before she had coffee?” Memphis asks.

  “Didn’t mean to,” Kip answers.

  “You have a death wish,” Memphis chuckles.

  “He started it!” Rhys declares.

  “Did not!” Kip argues.

  “Dear baby Jesus,” Henley mutters and takes another drink from her cup.

  I turn to Memphis, “Are they like this all the time?”

  “Who?”

  “All of you?” I ask.

  “Every fucking day. Never a dull moment,” he answers.

  “Can I move in? It’s constant entertainment,” Chauncey asks.