Finn Beckett

by Mj Fields

  I look at him, never having heard him say that before. He winks and then looks at the old place.

  “Looks like you’re doing well, too, Dad. Just one thing needs to go.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That fucking relic.” I laugh, bending down to grab the lighter fluid. “You feel up to a bonfire?”

  “You have her lighter; I have that pile of shit.”

  “I’ll use the lighter to spark that pile of shit and toss it on. Neither of us need the reminder.”

  “You forgive me finally?” he asks.

  “Forgive you for what?” I have no clue what the hell he’s talking about. He didn’t do a damn thing.

  “Not booting her ass before she fucked everything up, burnt down our place, and got you sent away.”

  “Wasn’t your fault.” Never thought it was. He was the only consistency I had.

  “I knew what she was doing. I fought it, but my words fell on the deaf ears of a junkie I was enabling. I should have booted her. If I had, you wouldn’t have been sent to that place, and you would never have lost the girl and—”

  “I don’t blame you, Dad. Hell, I don’t even blame Glenda anymore. Don’t even think about her.” I turned it off like a switch, one that, when turned back on, was like a scene from a hoarders show, roaches scattering back into the darkened corner. I would rather leave the light off.

  “But you don’t come home,” he says quietly. “Can’t blame you.”

  “I was finding my way, and I found it, Dad. I’m home for a couple days.”

  We stand quietly, looking at the ruins.

  “I want that fucking thing gone. You game?”

  He smirks. “I think we got ten minutes before we throw those steaks on.” He nods. “Better be damn good steaks, too.”

  “Got a bag of clams, too, old man.”

  “You don’t say? What are you, making millions now or something?”

  “No.” I laugh. “But I won’t stop until I do.”

  “That’s my boy.” He pats my back.

  I reach down to grab the lighter fluid.

  “Son, that ain’t gonna do shit. Let me grab the gas can.”

  ***

  I spend two days with my old man. The first, we eat steak and clams, his favorite, and the next, we rake up the burnt remnants of the old tin can. Then we eat steak again.

  At night, while he is sacked out in his recliner, I message back and forth with Sonya, who is busy getting her boy better. I understand and respect that a hell of a lot more than she will ever understand, but I miss her.

  Taelyn and she talked. Sonya’s okay to stay at home for the next ten days. Apparently, X’s and her son was a preemie, too. As a result, they totally get what she is going through.

  Two of the tour stops are in Cleveland, and I will be making damn sure I get to see her then.

  When I get back to Florida, the auditions for the opening act are in full swing.

  Sonya and I send messages daily—several times a day, actually—about work, the opening acts’ social status locally and globally, and how they would benefit us as a group. She is also apparently designing a website for the band. She calls it a portal through the wall of Steel we hide behind. I read some of the bio stuff, and she is a wordsmith for sure. She makes a group of otherwise normal guys sound like a mysterious group of musical magicians with mysterious and mystical talent. She also sells the hell out of what she calls our sex appeal. It was something she was against when she was hanging with the chicks with dicks crew.

  I smile, thinking I brought her out of that just in time. Now she is a chick who likes my dick and my dick loves her.

  I am doing my part. Well, as best I can when I’m not deep in my head. I am on a road of contentment for the first time in years in both my personal and professional life. I am in a lyrically lucid headspace as far as my music, and personally, I feel the cracks in my soul being magically healed, all because a couple weeks ago a girl terrified me, and I couldn’t walk away. Such a tiny, little thing to be afraid of.

  Orlando is amazing, and Tampa is just as good. After that, we are in route to Atlanta, where apparently a new tour bus is waiting for us. Fucking crazy. Abso-fucking-lute insanity.

  The rest of the world doesn’t know it, but that one fucking song Memphis’s ass tricked me into singing fixed something upstairs in the old brain. For once, as fucked up as it sounds admitting it to myself, I felt accepting of the applause at the end.

  River is high all the time, astronomically so. I try to reel him in, knowing damn well it won’t work—never has before—so I just become the safety police to an out of control drummer. I don’t mind. Billy tagged in while I was tripping on my own shit; therefore, the least I can do is give him a break.

  When we walk out of Philips Arena in Atlanta, and a big, black, shiny bus pulls up with the words Steel Total Destruction in silver splashed over the faded shocker symbol, we all kind of freak.

  “That is one sexy bus,” Memphis claps his hands together and rubs them up and down. “Tales, only groupies allowed on this bus, babe.”

  “What?” Her smile falls and she looks mortified.

  “You’ve got to start thinking about my needs as a fucking rock star. I can’t be just a boyfriend. Hell, I have a bus to prove it.” He is teasing her, but she doesn’t seem to be catching on. “You don’t mind the groupie thing, do you, Tales?” He reaches out, but she pulls back, so he grabs her and pulls her into his arms, whispering in her ear. She starts giggling and covers her mouth. “You up for it?”

  She nods and throws her arms around him. “Heck yes.”

  ***

  Sixteen hours on a bus with Tally and Memphis in the one bedroom, banging like newlyweds; River clam baking in the bunk under me; and Billy on his computer across the aisle may sound like a fucking dream, but it isn’t. As much as I used to hate flying before the back-row blowjob, I would give anything to be in the air with her.

  Just the thought of it gets me all worked up. I try to call her and get sent to voicemail then immediately get a text message.

  Getting Noah to sleep. How’s the bus? Call you soon.

  After an hour, she still hasn’t called, so I close my eyes and try to go to sleep. The image in my head makes it impossible, though. Fuck!

  With my dick like steel and my mind on her, I grab my phone and look at her websites. She posted something ten minutes ago. I have no problem with her little man being in front of me; that’s half the reason I feel the way I do about her—she is so fucking strong and so damn soft at the same time. But I will be damned if I’m second to a review site.

  Knowing I’m acting like a little bitch doesn’t help, not with a hard-on in my sweats and her on my mind. As a result, I climb out of my bunk and grab a couple tissues from the bathroom then climb back in, hoping to ease at least one of the burdens I’m carrying. Maybe then I will be able to sleep, hopefully for the next fourteen hours.

  I click on her other site again to find another post up, and she didn’t schedule that shit. She’s still up.

  I prop the phone up, shove my sweats down, and grab ahold of myself. Then I look over at my phone, making sure it’s positioned right, and hit video.

  “Miles and time don’t erase you from my mind, Sonya,” I say as I begin to stroke myself. “I’d rather hear your voice, but you give me no choice.” I continue to stroke. “So I have to take matters”—I pause—“in my own hands. Do I have your attention now?”

  I hit send before letting myself finish the job.

  She calls as I am about ready to come, and I grab the fucking phone, wanting to hear her voice as I do.

  “Hey,” I groan.

  “You really shouldn’t send things like that, Finn. What if—”

  “I’m going out of my mind missing you. Say something nice, Yaya; don’t argue with me right now.”

  “I miss you, too,” she whispers.

  “More. Tell me more.”

  “Well, the picture made me miss more
than just your arms.”

  “Yeah, keep going with that thought. What did you miss about it?”

  “It’s beautiful, big, and strong, Finn. Just like you.”

  “More. Tell me more.”

  “I want you in my mouth again. That was a first for me. I didn’t think I’d like it, but damn if I don’t crave it when—”

  “Almost there. Fuck, look what you are doing to me. Never needed it or wanted it like I do with you.”

  “Oh, my God, are you—”

  “So much hotter than I ever thought it would be. More, dammit, more.”

  “Really?” Her voice hits a higher pitch than usual.

  “Without a doubt,” I groan.

  “I’m oddly turned on by this.”

  “Fuuucckkk,” I hiss, dropping the phone to grab the tissues.

  “Are you there?” I hear her voice.

  “Don’t hang up. Just give me a minute,” I grunt as my come fills the tissues. I then grab the phone. “Hey.”

  “Did that really just happen?” she whispers.

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

  “Desperate?”

  “I don’t mind playing second fiddle to your little boy. I actually would insist if it wasn’t the case.”

  “Good to know,” she says quietly.

  “But the website, that pissed me off.”

  “The what?”

  “You were posting your reviews,” I tell her as I pull my pants up and head back into the bathroom.

  “You’re stalking me?”

  “I guess I am.”

  She laughs, and I can’t help seeing how ridiculous it must seem to her.

  “I like what we have going, not the distance. That”—I look at a tissue in my hand—“blows.” I toss it in the toilet and flush. “But the you and me part, I like that a lot. I guess what I’m trying to say is I miss you. I miss you so damn much I’m jerking off to get your attention.”

  “Well, it worked.” I hear a smile in her voice. “And now I am seriously jealous of your hand.”

  I laugh as I climb back in the bunk. “You coming to Cleveland still?”

  “I’m trying really hard to make it work, Finn. I am. And I miss you madly.”

  “Good to hear.”

  “I do, more than I can even understand. I never thought I would feel this way about anyone.”

  “I feel it, too. I feel it deep.”

  “How is this gonna end?” she asks so quietly I can barely make it out.

  “Let’s not focus on the end, Sonya. Let’s focus on Cleveland.”

  “It’s going to hurt like hell.”

  “Oh, no, Yaya, it’s gonna feel so damn good. I promise you that.”

  ***

  “This is a fucking joke,” I say as we go through the notes we made at the Excel Energy Center where we held the auditions. “None of them work, not fucking one.”

  “Someone needs to go back home.” River chuckles.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snap.

  “Don’t,” Memphis says, warning him.

  I look around to find they are all looking at me. “Fuck that. Let’s have it.”

  “No big deal, Finn.” Billy pats me on the back, and River huffs out loud.

  “Apparently it is. Spill it,” I say, looking at River.

  “Do you think we’re all stupid? We know you and Yaya have something going on. You weren’t hanging with me or Billy the whole first part of the trip. You didn’t say goodbye or even come back with an explanation as to why you skated through the Florida tour stops. You’re on that fucking phone all the time, and you sure as hell aren’t pulling your weight here.”

  “You better step the fuck away from the pipe and recognize who you’re pissing on right now, and let me tell you, it’s not yourself like it used to be,” I lash out, immediately feeling like shit about it, but fuck him.

  “You really just said that shit to me?” he asks in disbelief. “He did not just say that fucking shit to the man who has walked by his side for years now.”

  “There are certain things that are beyond even that. My personal life is one of them.”

  “Personal life?” He laughs. “What personal life? We’ve fucked girls in the same room. Hell, we’ve DP’d girls.”

  “That was a different time,” I snap.

  “Hey.” He holds his hands up. “I know she’s not a hot rocker chick, but I’m game if you wanna play together. No need to go it alone, brother.”

  When I lunge across the table and grab him by the collar, Memphis grabs me and Billy grabs him.

  “Don’t you talk about her like that, you motherfucker!”

  “Let’s go,” Memphis says as he pulls me toward the exit.

  “There is nothing off limits between us! I love you like a brother, man. More than a brother.”

  “You crossed a fucking line!” I scream at him.

  River beats his hands on his chest. “Hard to cross something you never knew existed! Fuck you, Beckett! Fuck you!”

  Billy drags him into the bathroom, and I pull away from Memphis.

  “Don’t fucking do it, man,” Memphis warns, putting his hand on my chest and stopping me from going after him. “Just don’t.”

  I storm out the door and reach in my pocket, searching for something, yet all I get is a fucking Blow Pop.

  “Is it true?”

  I look back to see Tally and Memphis.

  Memphis takes her hand. “Tales, let him be.”

  “No, I want to know. I hope it’s true,” she says to him then looks at me. “Is it?”

  “Sonya and I are friends,” I say, unwrapping the fucking Blow Pop and shoving it in my mouth.

  She pulls out her phone, smiling like the Cheshire Cat as she holds it up and walks toward me. “I knew it!”

  “Jesus, Tales, let it be.” Memphis laughs.

  “No. No way. Look at this picture from Dallas.”

  She hands me her phone, and there’s a shot from the parking lot on the screen. I am holding Sonya, and she is looking up at me. Great picture, but what the fuck?

  “What are you, the paparazzi?”

  “Easy, Beckett,” Memphis cautions.

  “Send it to yourself. That is a seriously hot picture. You two are perfect together. You can see it in your faces. Love, love all around, and—”

  “Easy,” I say, shaking my head. “Like I said, we’re friends.”

  “More.” She is not letting up.

  “Who knows? But right now—”

  “You fucking her?”

  Tally laughs and covers her mouth. “They so are. You can see it. Look.” She takes the phone from me and hands it to Memphis, who smirks and looks at it, then me.

  “Definitely fucking … your friend.” He hands me the phone and covers Tally’s ears. “She’s hot as hell, man. Good tag.”

  I try to look pissed, but he sees the truth. “She’s a nice girl. Doesn’t want our friendship to be public, and I don’t, either.”

  “Understood. So will River. DP, man? Fuck. Nice.” Memphis grins. “This will blow over when he hits the pipe. You gonna let that happen?”

  “Memphis …” Tally pulls at his hands. “Let go of my ears.”

  “Shit, babe, sorry, but there are some things you don’t need to hear.”

  “Or that you think I can’t handle. I know what DP is.”

  His eyes get huge and then he looks pissed. “Don’t you ever ask for shit like that.”

  “Well, if you think it’s so ‘nice.’ ” She air quotes, looking pissed before she turns around and tries not to smile.

  “I would sooner rip a motherfucker’s heart out than share you with anyone, Tales. Then I’d be locked up and taking it in the ass by some sick fuck, and I guarantee I wouldn’t be down for that, so you better…” As she covers her mouth and starts to laugh, he spins her around. “You fucking with me, Tales?”

  “You made me mad.”

  “Jealous you mean.” Sh
e nods. “My bad. Won’t do it again. Come here.” He hugs her and winks. “You good?”

  “Yes,” she says.

  He smiles and nods toward me. He was talking about me, but she thought it was about her.

  “Tales and I are gonna go have make up sex. You should stay away from River. We can all meet up in about an hour and—”

  “Did you just tell him we were going to have—?”

  “Don’t worry about it, Tally. We all heard you going at it the entire trip here,” I tell her, then turn to walk away.

  “You told me it was sound proof!” I hear her smack Memphis and can’t help laughing.

  “Send me those pics,” I yell over my shoulder.

  ***

  I spend the day looking forward to tomorrow, something I haven’t done in a very long time.

  When my phone rings, I realize I have spent the entire day thinking of her, yet not calling her at all.

  “Yaya,” I answer. “I’ve been thinking about you all damn day.”

  “You’ve been on my mind, too.” She sounds happy.

  “Maybe you can send me a picture of—”

  “You need to get to Minnesota Music Café. Now.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I heard you guys didn’t have an act yet.”

  “What else did you hear?” I ask, hoping she isn’t pissed and thinks I broke a promise.

  “I hear that we are friends.” She still sounds happy. “Good friends.”

  “It was never my intention to—”

  “I’m okay if you are. Finn, there is a cab waiting outside the hotel. I found a band. You have to go now.”

  “I’m really not—”

  “Stockton Records is there. They tweeted out the band and something about hoping to close a deal.”

  “Stockton fucking Records—”

  “I know. I know they screwed you, and I don’t like anyone screwing you. Go get your revenge.”

  “I’m about peace and love.” I laugh as I grab a sweater and shove my feet in my boots.

  “You out the door yet?” She laughs.

  “Going now.”

  “Don’t just get them to play. Convince them to stay.”

  “Stay?”