My Stepbrothers Rock: Headliner
Page 4
“Don't worry, it's not as bad and it sounds.” Grant pats me on the shoulder, a smile spreading across his face. “We'll have you back and in bed before the dean gets out of Sunday mass.” He presses a button on the steering wheel and music blares through the speakers in my seat. I flinch and look around me, but they're somehow hidden.
“Have you heard this song?” Grant turns up the volume. It's an indie band I recently added to my blog. They remind me of a cross between Florence and the Machine and Milky Chance. It's mellow, yet the vocals are so deep and dark.
“Yeah, I discovered these guys on Youtube last month.” It was actually last week, but I hope to sound like I have better taste than whatever the radio's feeding us.
“Cool! They asked me to manage them. What do you think?” Grant tips his head toward me, his eyebrow raised. Is he really asking my opinion? I ask myself. This is a guy with a million dollar artist management company if I remember correctly and he's asking me, if he should take these guys on as clients?
“Um, well honestly?” I look at him waiting for the slap on my back and “Naw, I was just kidding,” comment, but Grant is listening intently.
“Yeah, tell me.” Grant's eyes are serious.
“From what I know, they're newly formed, only been together for a year. The lead singer's already been in and out of rehab a few years back and, so far, claims to be clean, but the rest of the band parties pretty heavily. They've got two singles out, engineered in their garage and while they have a following online, it's nothing close to the popularity of Walker Heights.” I feel like Billboard magazine spouting facts and crap as if I work in the industry. Grant is nodding his head, a smile on his lips.
We talk on and on as the road stretches before us. Sharing information about indie bands, who's hot, who's on the way out, what the next trend will be. It's easy talking to Grant. He's so full of music knowledge and I guess he should be, it's his job. Yet at the same time, he's interested in so many other things and he's a pilot! I would have never guessed, but then how could I even begin to guess about a man I've only met a handful of times in the years our parents have been together.
“Right on. That's some great information. Yeah, Walker Heights has some seriously devoted fans. One even has a site pretty much dedicated to them, Walkin' With Walker Heights I think it's called.” Grant stares at the road. Hopefully he didn't notice my neck snap to look at him.
“Really? That's cool.” I try to remain nonchalant, but my heart is racing. He knows about my site. I'm not admitting to my handy work afraid it will give away my more than sisterly dedication to Alex.
“Whoever runs it knows what they're doing. I wish I could get someone like that on my team.” Grant sounds genuinely interested, but at the same time, like he's fishing. I can't see myself working for him, unless it's to make my parents get off my back about not have a 'real' job.
“Do they? That's a nice thing to say. I mean, if you ever meet the owner, that'd be an ice breaker comment.” I'm stammering over my words like a five year old. Only a five year old probably wouldn't have as much trouble.
Chirp! Chirp! Grant looks at his cell phone resting in a holster in the middle of the dash board. Grant's eyes grow large as he looks at the screen, then back to the road. His jaw is tense as he thinks and I can tell something is up. I wonder if it's Alex or the concert. I haven't heard a word from him, so can only guess what's going on.
“Everything alright?” I'm not waiting to ask, if it's Alex, I need to know.
“Not exactly.” He hands me his phone. The screen is lit up with a photo of me and Alex leaving the hotel room earlier that day shared to Grant's Facebook page.
“Fuck,” I breathe, staring at the image.
“I won't ask.” Grant puts his elbow on the window sill running his hand through his hair. It looks amazingly soft in the lights of the passing street lamps.
I shoot him a look, but I'm not denying or confirming what Alex and I did. First of all, it's not his business and second I was eighteen and I could do what I want.
“So, what does this mean?” I need to know if this is going to hurt Alex's career. Grant doesn't respond, just drives watching the road, his index finger brushing gently against his lips as if it helps him think. I sit back hoping it's an easy fix, but really I can't imagine how this is gonna play out.
“This means you're going to have to work for me. We'll spin it to look like you're my PR specialist and the two of you were having a meeting to discuss business.” Grant's tone is steady and matter-of-fact as though he's got this all worked out.
“I've got school, I know nothing about PR. Is this gonna work?” It's not that I'm against the idea, I'm just wondering how this is possibly going to fly. I haven't even graduated high school and last I checked, PR executives weren't this young.
“After you graduate, you don't have to know PR. Besides, you already do Walker blogger.” Grant grins into my face.
“How'd you?” I start, but he cuts me off.
“It's not that hard to find out who registered a website.” I smile realizing I didn't cover my tracks as well as I thought.
The sound of my cell phone beeps from my purse. It's a text from Alex.
Hey M! I miss you already. I promise, next time will be better you'll see. Until next month keep that booty warm for me!
I smile and blush. I shoot a look at Grant who's watching me, wonder in his eyes, but I still won't tell. Alex will be my secret until I decide he's not.
Graduation
I'm sitting on the podium with the rest of my graduating class. The dean is going on and on about what upstanding young ladies we are and how the world better watch out because we're going to change views, shape opinions, create ideas that only we can carry forth into the next generation.
Is he talking about my uterus? I wonder sarcastically to myself. Sasha pokes me in the side motioning subtly to Alex who's sitting at the end of the second row.
“God damn, he's even sexier in person,” she whispers under her breath. Butterflies erupt in my stomach while looking at Alex who must have realized we were talking about him. He pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head and smiles back at me shooting a quick wink. I blush and bite my lower lip while holding his gaze for a minute, then look down.
“Girl, if I didn't know better,” Sasha whispers again. I meet her questioning look, but now isn't the time or place to discuss what she thinks she sees between us.
I glance across the row and find my mom and stepdad a few seats away. My mom is fanning herself with a piece of paper straining a smile at me. She glances down the row at Alex who I can't stop looking at, then back at me her lips pursed. Why would she care I'm smiling at Alex? My face is screwed up in a questioning look at her, but she looks away.
Grant's sitting on the other side of his dad. He smiles at me raising his hand for a small wave. I smile back. I wonder if he's always been as good looking as he seems today. My pulse quickens noticing him staring at me, but there's something different about his stare. It's not parental for one, but it's also not scrutinizing me either. More like, admiration?
You're reading too much into this I tell myself, besides there's no reason to think he'd be interested in me. Yeah, you're right except you've seen him more in the past month than you have in the past three years. I argue with the devil in my mind. Yet realize there was really no need for Grant to return my earplugs, which had fallen out during my nap on our drive back to the school. I'm not sure how, but it turned into him taking me to lunch. I still haven't figured that one out, but didn't pay much attention to it until now.
“She's undoubtedly came the farthest in her educational studies and held onto her A plus grades never missing a day of classes or a chance to volunteer her time when not busy organizing club activities. While not our valedictorian, she certainly qualifies for recognition, so please welcome your salutatorian, Morgan Knight.” The dean's introduction shocks me to the present.
I move to the podium and look out ove
r the crowd of parents and friends. I almost wanna say, “Salute this mother fuckers!” and flip the bird, but decide it sounds better coming from a rockstar. I begin my speech and realize I'm running a sarcastic commentary alongside all of my go-get-em-advice. My gaze floats from Alex to Grant and back. So different, yet giving me much the same feelings. Some I don't know what to do with and others I can't wait to do more.
In the middle of it, I see my mother's face, fuming instead of happy. Glancing at Alex again as if she has an idea of my desire. One she tried to squash by sending me here? The thought crosses my mind quickly as I say some more shit about how one woman can change a mind, but many can change the world. Then decide to end with an impromptu unscripted fuck off,
“Life is too short and true love shorter. Don't let society tell you what you desire is wrong.”
***
Excerpt from My Stepbrothers Rock, Opening Act
Morgan and Alex realize their love and desire for each other even though they're step brother and sister. The few years they've known each other has given them the opportunity to accept a family member they never had and, at the same time, allowed their love for each other to grow. Soon, it's too much emotion to keep to themselves and they share their true desires, but Morgan is sent to boarding school while Alex begins touring with his band. Will Morgan and Alex meet again or is their forbidden romance doomed to fade away in the distance between them?
I begin to pluck the chords on the guitar as she hums working out the basic melody, then I sing. Morgan opens her eyes and watches me. I sing the entire poem and realize her expression has turned to confusion.
“You memorized the words?” she asks after I'm finished.
“Um, yeah, it wasn't very long. I've kinda got a memory for that stuff,” I'm totally lying and hope she doesn't realize I re-read that poem at least five times.
She smiles, a kind of knowing smile, like she's reading my mind. I move to sit on the couch next to her. “Wanna try playing the guitar?”
“I don't know how,” she looks up into my face and I think I might kiss her, but move the guitar into her lap instead.
“Here, put this hand here, your arm over the top and rest your shoulder here. Now press these two strings on the neck and strum your thumb down those strings,” she's draped over my guitar as I place her hands and press her fingers into the chords.
Morgan does as I instruct, but the result sounds like a hillbilly banjo. We laugh. It relieves the tension I think we both feel.
“Try again,” I place her fingers on the neck again keeping mine firmly over hers.
“I feel like my wrist is twisted like taffy,” she giggles, dropping her shoulder to get a better handle on the strings.
“Yeah, you smell like cherry taffy too,” I poke fun, before realizing my words may seem like a cheap come on. Morgan looks at me and blushes. She quickly turns back to the guitar and runs her thumb down the open strings a few times while keeping her other fingers tightly against the neck.
“It kinda hurts my fingertips,” Morgan pulls her hand to her face then sucks on her fingers as if they're bleeding. I can hardly stand the sight and know I won't last through this session, or whatever it is.
“Aw, let's see baby sis,” taking the guitar off her lap, I set it on the other side of us. I pull her hand to me and examine the red tips with string imprints. I rub them lightly, which turns into me running my finger around her palm before placing my own over hers. She laces her fingers around mine. I swallow hard and look at her. Her eyes know and want and love. So I do.
Leaning into her I place my hand on her cheek then run it under her hair to the back of her head and pull her toward me kissing her gently, testing her response. She kisses me back. We look at each other, a realization that we're thinking the same thing, then kiss again. This time, it's more intense. I move my tongue into her mouth and she responds by opening her mouth and accepting me.
Morgan turns to me putting her hand around my neck. Instinctively, I pull her until she's laying on top of me. I know what we're doing is unheard of and unacceptable, but I just keep telling myself it can't be wrong if we both want it so badly.
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Excerpt from Hooked On My Stepbrother
Boat + Fishing Rod = Hook-up With The Love of My Life
I'm finally finished with four freezing years of university life and heading back home to the islands. Every mile I travel has me thinking more about the reason why I left and I wonder if he'll be there, my stepbrother.
We parted on odd terms, actually on no terms. I had to get away after our feelings for each became mutually obvious. I had to leave before my emotions got the best of me and maybe him.
I mean, what kind of life could I possibly have by staying? Living off of my parents as if I were a teenager, asking for money because my best skill was fishing and only if the wind blew in the right direction. Nope, not me. I was going somewhere, going to be someone better, going to get my head on straight, so I left.
What will I say when I see him? Can I stifle the feelings I had so many years ago, the love I know I couldn't control? What if he feels the same as he did then?
God help me, if things aren't different I fear I may get lost in the passion and give him my heart.
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