Shadow Phoenix
The Shadow Phoenix Series Prequel
Heather Ashley
Copyright © 2020 by Heather Ashley
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
1. Zen
2. Maddox
3. True
4. Jericho
5. Maddox
6. Zen
7. Maddox
8. Jericho
9. True
10. Jericho
11. True
12. Zen
Finding Zen Preview
Also by Heather Ashley
1
Zen
“I quit.”
I’d waited two long-ass years to say those words, and today was the day I finally got to do it.
Twice.
This morning, I quit the boring as fuck job at the coffee shop that I had to get up before the fucking sun every day to do. And tonight? Tonight was my last shift as a lowly cook at the local diner.
I came home every night smelling like greasy fried food and fell into bed just to get a couple of hours of sleep and do it all over again. Some days it felt like I’d never get out. But I was eighteen now. The last two years grinding, pushing toward making my dream a reality had paid off, and the guys and I were about to cash in on our payday.
Yesterday, we signed a recording contract for our band, Shadow Phoenix. My best friend True came up with the name, and it was the first one we all agreed on. It wasn’t ironic and didn’t have some deeper meaning. It just sounded cool as fuck, so we went with it. The name wasn’t what was important. The music was.
But that contract was our ticket to stardom. To fame and fortune. I knew it. I could feel it in my bones. Two years ago, when I moved to LA and met the guys, I was serious about music, but they were just fucking around. Guys who liked to play but didn’t have any goals or plans. But the three of them, Jericho, Maddox, and True, they made beautiful music together. They just needed that one little piece to make magic.
I was it.
Things would move fast now. Next week we start recording our album. Graduation was tomorrow, and I was fucking free. Free to do whatever the fuck I wanted.
I pushed open the door of my shitty studio apartment. It was stifling inside, and I shoved open the only window trying to get some cooler air inside. AC wasn’t going to happen; I couldn’t afford it. Jumping in the tiny closet-like shower in my bathroom, I rinsed off that final shift with lukewarm water, letting the last remnants of my shitty life thus far wash down the drain.
My life was changing before my eyes. I’d never live in a place like this again, never wonder if I had enough time to practice music between jobs and school again, never worry about how I was going to eat if all my money went to rent. “Never again,” I vowed out loud. Speaking it into existence felt more important somehow, like the words were more real.
Pulling on a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt, I texted the guys to see if they wanted to meet up. I wanted to celebrate everything going right. I wanted to get shitfaced, put some ink on my body, and stick my dick in a willing hole.
I lived in one of the shittier parts of town, but lucky for me, there was a badass tattoo shop downstairs, and I made friends with the owner, Remi, a couple years ago. He took a chance on me when I was sixteen, renting me the apartment above his shop. He also promised if I came to him when I was ready for my first ink, he’d do it for free. Tonight was the night.
My phone vibrated, and I picked it up off the ratty coffee table that sat in front of my second-hand sofa.
Maddox: Where r we meeting
Zen: Twisted Ink
Maddox: k
True: Can’t make it, date night with Soph
Jericho: Whipped
Maddox: be there in 30
True: STFU
Zen: He has a point, T
Jericho: Pick me up, Mad?
Maddox: Yep
I slid the phone into my pocket and grabbed my keys to lock up behind me, not that it mattered. I didn’t have anything worth stealing. Even with the shitty apartment and even shittier jobs, getting myself emancipated at sixteen and moving here was the right move. Just look at where I was going.
I jogged down the creaky old wooden staircase that led down the back of the building and walked around the corner. Pulling the glass door open, I breathed a sigh of relief when the cool air hit my overheated skin. Remi looked up from the burly guy he was working on and gave me a nod and a knowing grin.
I lowered myself onto the black leather couch in the corner, picking up a photo album and thumbing through it, looking over all the art people had put on their bodies. I’d always had a fascination with tattoos and body art, but I wanted to wait until something worth remembering happened to take the leap.
Remi’s right-hand man, Jagger, moved out from the back office and stood behind the glass display cases that doubled for a counter. He smirked at me. “Here to finally pop your cherry?”
I nodded, and he spun on his heel, stepping back into the office. He was gone for long enough that I started flipping through another album, but he reappeared with a couple of plastic cups and gestured for me to grab one. He tapped his to mine and threw back whatever was inside. A quick sniff told me it was liquor of some sort, but I had no idea what kind. Didn’t matter. I tossed mine back too, trying not to cough at the burn.
Jagger took my empty cup and walked in the back with it as the door opened, and Maddox strolled in, followed by Jericho. Maddox always had this way about him like he owned every fucking place he walked into. I could learn a thing or two about confidence from Maddox Everleigh. I needed to if I was going to be a world-famous rock legend.
“What’s up, Taylor?” Maddox bumped his shoulder into mine as he moved next to me, leaning his hip against the counter and glancing around. Jericho tilted his chin up at me, but he never really talked all that much, unless it was to write music or talk shit, so I didn’t expect much of a greeting. “Afterparty at the Hub. Kayla just texted me. You in?” Jericho asked.
“Fuck, yes.” That should help me check off a couple more of my boxes for tonight. Pussy and alcohol.
Maddox’s gaze settled on Jagger, and he looked him up and down with interest, the corner of his lip twitching into a cocky grin. “Hey, Jagger.”
As long as I’d known Maddox, I hadn’t seen him hook up with one single girl. I didn’t think he was gay, but whenever he messed around, it was always with a guy. But maybe my instincts were off.
Jagger wasn’t much older than we were, but he’d been here with Remi as long as I’d lived above the shop. Tonight wouldn’t be the first night Maddox and Jagger fucked around. The way they were eye-fucking each other right now meant it was inevitable.
I turned my attention away from them. It didn’t make me uncomfortable necessarily; I just didn’t care to watch one of my best friends hooking up. At least not while I was still mostly sober.
Remi finished up with the dude he was working on and started to clean up his station. “Give me a minute, kid,” he said before standing up and tossing his rubber gloves into the trash. I had no problems waiting all night if I had to. This place was like my home away from home. Every minute I wasn’t with the band, working, or at school, I spent here. Which, admittedly, wasn’t much anymore.
I stepped across the small lobby to the wall by the front door, and Jericho followed. The wa
ll was covered from the top all the way to the floor with tattoo designs. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking to get permanently stuck on my body tonight, but I’d know it when I saw it.
“You going to get something?” I asked Jericho, who was looking through the designs with an unreadable expression on his face.
He pulled a piece of paper off the wall, and his dark hair fell over his forehead as he tilted his head down to look at it more closely. “Yeah, this.” He held the design up for me to see, and it was a cherry blossom tree, but instead of being cheerful with pink flowers, it was haunting, the faded blooms blowing away in swirls of black and gray. Surprisingly, it fit him well.
Turning back, I scanned the wall once, and nothing stuck out, but on a second pass, a couple of arcs of dark ink caught my attention. The design was mostly covered up by another that’d been haphazardly stuck on top of it. I pulled the piece of paper out and stared at it, studying every line and swirl, every shadow and curve. It was perfect, a phoenix rising up toward the stars. It was like it had been created just for me.
“Find the one?” I spun around quickly at Remi’s words and found him watching me with a knowing smile.
I held up the design, and his eyes narrowed as he gazed at it before he brightened. “I drew that ten years ago and it’s been on that wall so long I forgot it was there. Guess it was waiting for you.”
Stepping toward him, I handed him the paper. “Guess so.”
“How about you?” Remi turned his attention to Jericho, who silently held out the cherry blossom tree for Remi to take.
He looked Jericho up and down and gave him a slight nod. “Okay, boys. Follow me.”
As I followed Remi through the shop toward the chair that would become my home for the next several hours, Jagger passed me another plastic cup of liquor and handed one to Jericho, too. I drank it down before handing Maddox my empty cup and lowering myself into the chair.
“Where do you want it?” Remi asked, pulling supplies out of the cabinet in front of him.
I stood back up, looking at myself in the floor-length mirror next to his station. I pulled my shirt off, exposing my toned upper body so I could get a better look to decide. “Left side ribs,” I finally decided.
“Where are you putting yours?” I asked, turning to Jericho.
He pulled his shirt off and looked himself over the same way I had, turning side to side. “Upper back,” he finally decided, pulling his shirt back on while he waited for Remi to ink me first.
“The ribs are going to hurt like a motherfucker. You sure you wouldn’t rather have it on your back or your chest like your buddy?” Remi questioned, holding up the template he’d made and gesturing for me to sit back in the chair.
“I’m sure. I can take the pain.”
The stencil he laid over my skin was cold and wet. It reminded me of those temporary tattoos I used to stick on myself as a kid. When he peeled back the transparent white paper, my future tattoo design was left behind.
“Make sure it’s where you want it to be because once I start, there’s no changing your mind,” Remi instructed, and I stood up again and walked over to the mirror. The black lines curved from just below my armpit to the bottom of my ribcage, and they twisted to the front and back of my body just enough to be interesting from any side of me. It was fucking perfect.
I nodded to Remi and waited for him to lower the back of the oddly dentist-like chair down, so I’d be lying mostly flat on my right side. He adjusted the lamp above me and grabbed the gun, loading it with black ink. My heart was fucking racing as he moved the needle over my skin and pressed down for the first time. I’d waited so long for this, for everything that was happening, and watching the ink take form on my body in the same way my future was unfolding in front of my eyes was indescribable.
Hours went by as Jericho sat in the waiting room, scrolling through his phone and walking over to check out the progress on my design periodically.
I eventually numbed to the constant buzz of the needle piercing into my skin over and over, the fiery pain dulling into the background of my racing mind. Maddox and Jagger disappeared into the back room an hour ago, and I was grateful as fuck the music was loud and pounding so I wouldn’t have to hear whatever might be going on in there.
If Remi noticed, he didn’t show it. Or maybe he just didn’t give a fuck. Either way, the tattoo needle finally stopped, and he wiped a damp cloth over my reddened skin one last time. “Ready to see my latest masterpiece?” he asked, gesturing to the mirror.
I stood up, my legs slightly wobbly from disuse. Stepping in front of the mirror, I turned to my left side and held up my arm. The artwork was incredible and so detailed. And this tattoo was an outward expression of the changes going on inside my mind and body right now. I’d never forget this day, where I came from, and where I wanted to go.
“It’s fucking incredible, Remi. I can’t thank you enough.” My voice grew husky as I fought off an unexpected swell of emotion.
He waved me off, though, as he started cleaning up to get ready for Jericho to take my place. “No need to thank me. Just do what you were put on this earth to do, Zen, and that’s thanks enough.”
I wouldn’t let Remi down. I’d never wanted anything more than I wanted to make music and become a fucking legend. And I’d do it. Nothing would stop me.
I was going to be a fucking star.
2
Maddox
I zipped up my jeans and helped Jagger up off his knees, pulling him firmly against me for a heated kiss. I could still taste myself on his tongue, and damn I was delicious.
“I gotta go,” I announced, gently pushing him away. It was always like this with us. A quick hookup, an orgasm or two, and then I got the fuck out of there. There were no feelings involved. He was hot, and I liked the way his lips looked wrapped around my cock. I didn’t give a shit about Jagger’s day, and I was pretty sure he didn’t care about mine, either.
Not that I was all that into guys. But, like any eighteen-year-old man, I was into getting my dick sucked. I just couldn’t handle being with women. Men were safer. I’d never feel a goddamn thing with a dude. Well, other than intense pleasure. But love? Not a chance in hell.
“Fine,” he grumbled, wanting more from me right now than I wanted to give. But again, I didn’t give a fuck. If he didn’t want to blow me anymore, I’d find someone else who did. It wasn’t rocket science.
Did I wish things were different? Wish I had it in me to fuck girls instead of guys? Of fucking course I did. But decisions I made a few years ago meant that I lived with a gaping fucking hole where my heart used to be, and I was too chicken shit to risk ever filling it with someone else. I physically couldn’t. My body wouldn’t cooperate, and then I’d find myself fucked up on liquor and coke or puking my goddamn guts out because the thought of being with another woman made me violently sick.
So, fucking around with Jagger or whoever else caught my eye was a nice distraction from the emptiness and the loneliness. I ran a hand through my hair, taming it from Jagger’s wandering hands, and then I straightened my clothes.
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” I said nonchalantly, not really caring if I did or didn’t. Jagger wasn’t my only hookup.
I pulled open the door to the tiny office and stepped out, closing it behind me. Zen was sitting on the couch in the lobby. “Where’s Jericho?”
He glanced to the right, and I followed his line of sight where Jericho was sprawled out face down with his shirt off, Remi leaning over him. “Ah. Let’s see yours.”
Zen stood up and pulled his shirt off. He had a huge white bandage over his side, but he pulled it back and let me look at the design. “Damn, dude. That’s pretty fucking sweet.” I’d never had a desire to ink up my body. I thought it was perfect just as it was, but I could appreciate Zen and Jericho’s need to express themselves like that. We were artists, after all. Expression was what we did, all of us in our own way.
Plus, Zen’s body decorated with
ink? Fucking hot. I fucked around with guys, but they weren’t exactly my preference. I had my reasons. But, I’d make an exception for my bandmate if he were interested.
I held up the bottle I’d swiped off the shelf next to the office door on my way out, tilting it side to side. “Want a drink?”
Zen sat back down, and I sat next to him, crossing my ankle over my knee as I leaned back into the cool leather and twisted the cap off the bottle. I took a giant swig before passing him the container. He lifted it to his lips and took a sip before lowering it back down. “Are you going to get anything done while we’re here?”
Shrugging, I grabbed the bottle back from him. “Not ink. I’ve always wanted to pierce something, though.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Really? Please don’t say your cock.”
I tossed my head back and laughed. I hadn’t been considering it, but now that he mentioned it, it wasn’t the worst idea. The thought of some long-ass needle being stuck through my dick was cringeworthy, even if it meant greater pleasure later. No fucking thank you.
“Nah, maybe my nose like True. Or a nipple.”
“A nipple,” Zen repeated incredulously. “Why the fuck would you want to pierce your nipple?”
“Why not? I think it’s hot when guys have their nipples pierced.” I took another pull from the bottle, feeling the effects of the liquor as it warmed my blood, and I relaxed further into the sofa.
“If you say so.” Zen reached for the bottle.
"You should get one," I encouraged. Zen was admittedly hot as hell, but he wasn’t interested, and I didn’t want to fuck things up by pushing.
He wrinkled his nose. "I like my nipples hole-free, thanks. But would you really trust Jagger with a needle right now?"
Shadow Phoenix: A Rock Star Romance Prequel Page 1
