Okay, here we go. It's action, action, and action for a few chapters as we reach the climax of Tantric. Can you believe it? It went by so fast.
The song for this chapter is Living On A Prayer. Everybody has pretty much figured out by now that Skid Marcs is based on Bon Jovi, right?
Oh, if you want to imagine what I think the final Soundcrush cut of December Dawn is like...I imagine its something uplifting like Coldplay's Hymn For The Weekend
And Dev and Mac's song The Siege? Well there's nothing like The Siege that I can think of. I guess imagine a Major Lazer type beat with a rapper (Dev) who has the lyricism of Ed Sheeran and the badassery of Yungblood. With Mac featuring (who has a diversity that ranges betweenGwen Stefani/Halsey/Carrie Underwood)
Ashlynn
As the limo pulls up to the non-press entrance of the Staples Center, I scan distractedly, wondering who the hell I'm supposed to be looking for. I'm half expecting some anonymous PA of Marianne del Marco's to be holding up a sign for me, but to my surprise, I see Kat and Riley. Kat looks like a rock star herself in her two piece Valentino dress...a slim black skirt slit to the thigh and a white crop top with shoulder cutouts. Her hair is intricately curled, her makeup is dramatic and her poise is perfection. Riley looks dashing and cocksure in his tux and his spiky hairdo.
Even through my haze of confusion, I feel happy at the sight of them. They look wonderful. I have missed them so much.
I step out tentatively in the heels I'm unsure of, and stumble slightly.
Riley is there at once, steadying me. "Alright, dearest?" He scans my face, lingering long as he looks me in the eyes.
"Fine, just nervous," I assure him.
After a slight narrowing of his eyes that lets me know exactly what he's suspecting, he smiles rather tightly. "No need, you are one of the beautiful people."
Kat is standing back from me.
"Hot damn and hell yeah," she says, her eyes wide,taking in my appearance.
My dress is completely opposite from hers. Hers is modern and edgy. Mine is traditional and delicateâa vintage strapless ivory gown with a fitted bodice and full skirt. A boldfloral design of black beads decorates bodice and trails the hem. My favorite part of the dress is the black lining on the interior of the skirt, that only shows when I walk.
It's my secretâlike the blackness that tarnishes my soul.
My hair and makeup, I did myself in a hotel room, but I guess I still look okay, judging from Kat and Riley's expression. I walk forward carefully, and embrace my sister. "You look fantastic. And I've missed you so much."
She looks pained. "Then come home."
At the word home, an image of Leed flashes in my head, but I lie and say, "I thought I was home."
"Bullshit. You don't love Cam, anymore. You never loved him like you loved Leed. Just forgive Leed and come home, okay?"
I sigh. "He broke up with me, Kat. He gave me an ultimatum, I didn't do what he wanted, and he had Riley dump me in a press release. I've told you all this."
"I don't believe it. Or at least there is more to it than that. He's a mess. It's clearly not what he wants."
"It's the truth. Tell her," I backhand Riley lightly in the chest.
He grimaces and looks around. "Perhaps this isn't a conversation for the red carpet?"
He's right. We aren't on the media wall, but there are still eyes and ears all around.
Kat nods and tucks her arm in mine. "Fine, I'm just glad you are here. It's time to see the boss," she winks. "She's going to love you even more when she gets to know you."
After security, Riley leads us to the large del Marco encampment holding court in a rather extensive circle in the Staples lobby. The only reason I allow myself to led there is because I know for certain that Soundcrush is backstage already in makeup. But Kat is right, if I'm accepting the offer to direct the Sweet Child of Mine Foundation, Marianne is my new bossâthe Board of Director's Chairperson.
It's why I'm here at the Grammy'sâat Marianne's request.
I'm smart enough to realize that this extremely coveted Grammy ticket and the subsequent invitation to the del Marco post Grammy party areâif not quite a job interviewâthey are a trial by fire. Marianne wants to see if I can accept the offer to direct the foundation and share space with Leed, its underwriter, without either one of us combusting from fury or pain.
So I'm here to prove that I can handle my end, but I have an insurance policy in my clutchâalready a heavy burden burning through my willpower.
Matt looks completely at ease for someone who is about to perform live in front a tv audience of twenty million people. I shouldn't be surprised, it's not his first rodeo. In fact he has thirty years of rides like this under his belt. I wonder how Leed feels right now. This is Soundcrush's first Grammy performance. Despite Soundcrush winning awards for Little Sister off their debut record and three Grammy's last year, the tempo of the show has been reluctant to change. Pop, rap, and solo acts have dominated the airwaves and performance schedule for a decade. Now the alt rock scene is slowly rising again.
After greeting Kat and I warmly, Matt and the other members of Skid Marcs slide away toward the backstage, leaving us largely in the company of the Skid Marcs bus and SCIC. Marianne makes small talk with Kat and I for a few minutes, assures me we will speak more at her party, then moves off to chat with one her major donors. I notice Marley talking quietly with Bridge.
"Bodie brought Marley?" I ask.
Kat snorts. "No. Arabella is here somewhere, in a fury because she was directed off the media wall without being photographed. They held Bodie and Leed back for stag shots."
"Then how did Marley get a ticketâ"
"Leed," Kat says quietly. "Just as a favor to Bodie. He definitely needs her here as his sobriety companion but you're right tickets are tight unless you are royalty..." she waves at the large Skid Marcs party.
"So Leed didn't bring Sophie?" I hate asking, but I can't help myself. I was sure Sophie would be in possession of Leed's plus one.
"No," Kat says firmly. "That was all just momentary insanity..."
The lights are dimming and compelling us to our seats. Despite the heavy haze of dread I've been under for days now, I find myself excited. I've never been to an awards show. I've never seen Soundcrush perform, either. Tonight, however, like most Grammy performances, their spot will be a mash-up and not much like a typical Soundcrush show.
Being at the Grammy's is not quite as glamorous as it looks on tv. The lights are still high and the celebrities are milling in the aisles, reluctant to take their places, despite producer's repeated encouragements. My seat is with Street and the rest of the Skid Marc's entourageâseveral rows behind the seating for the celebrities and their dates.
Production assistants are frantically consulting seating charts and filling the backstage performers' seats so the camera panning the front audience will register a full house. Marley, Kat and Arabella find themselves with handsome extras filling in as their Soundcrush dates, along with a glamorous couple filling Mac and Adam's seats. The Skid Marcs' wives are in the same situation. Bridge is seated between Mac's extra and Dev's extra, because she is his date. Strut is also upfront, as they are nominated for Best New Artist.
As I pan the chaos going on down front, Street nudges me. Two productions assistants are staring at me and talking into their headsets. "You look like a star, you're about to get upgraded to a front row seat-filler," he grins. I shake my head at him, but sure enough, the production assistants move toward us.
"You're Street del Marco, right?" the girl dressed in all black, says, consulting her clipboard.
"Guilty," he says and takes a drink from a flask. "And...you are?" she beams at me.
"Nobody," I assure her.
"But your name please?"
I'm nervous, I know tickets are not supposed to be transferred and my name is definitely not on this seat. Marianne turns in her seat several rows up. "Ashlynn Ballard. Matt's special guest and a new foundation director at MdM. " She gives me a wink.
The girl covers her mouth and speaks into her microphone. She looks toward the stage at someone and nods, then gives me an insincere smile. "You guys will make a great couple shot when the cameras sweep, but would you mind trading seats with Street? Your dress is beautiful and the camera will show more of it from the aisle seat..."
We switch. She hurries away.
"So much for staying anonymous," Street says with a wan smile. "Now we have to worry about keeping our drinks off camera." He offers me his flask. "I guess we better pre-game."
I smile at him. "No, thanks. I don't drink. Gives me headaches."
His face drops. "Shit, I knew that. Sorry." He puts the flask back in his jacket.
"No worries. Honestly, it doesn't bother me if you drink." That's true. Alcohol is not a temptation. The pills in my purse are a temptation but I've told myself they are needed at a certain time, and I'm going to stick to that. At least through tonight.
After a long audience prep by the producer, the lights go down, celebrities put away their phones and start smiling at one another, the cameras sweep across the ceiling on their cables, the canned Grammy music plays and a brief introduction by the host signals the start of the show.
The stage opens and a crew of Bollywood dancers snake and twist to center stage, as a lotus flower blooms from the stage floor, it's purple glow pulsing hypnotically to the sultry rhythm of Dev's and Mac's hit song, The Siege. The catchy hook is unmistakable from the radio cut, but the overall sound is differentâthe backing rhythm is not the stylized sound of drum machines, but live drums and base. There's a real band performing it behind the false stage front.
The music builds and a medieval castle turret whirls in from stage left like a tornado. The vibrant veils of Mac's costume swirl around her at the top of turret as she and the mechanical structure spin to a stop. She holds a vial of burning liquid, which she hurls into the lotus below, exploding the structure apart to reveal Dev, in harem pants and a brightly patched brown leather jacket.
Dev bursts into his rap about the "tiara-despaira" that has ruined him and Mac plays the part, ignoring his rhyme, absorbed in the attention of her courtiers at the top of the tower. But as she starts to sing her feature she fearlessly dances down the exterior steps winding of the turret. Her safety wire is barely visible and I'm sure it won't be seen on tv. She and Dev engage in a back and forth duet as he strips her veils and her haughty defenses until she's wearing nothing more than a shimmery two piece and look of adoration for him.
It's almost impossible to believe she had a baby three months ago because there's no sign her body has changed from the video of The Siege. The dance out a new variation on their video story. She spurns him repeatedly through the dance, and in his last long rap, his flow becomes more furious and pleading.
Dev is rough and brilliant. He's free-styling now, backing Mac up across the floor as his completely new rhyme flies.
Grammy audiences aren't supposed to cheer because of the taping for tv, but whoops of appreciation ring out as Dev's rap gets raunchy and personal. Or maybe the shouts are because of Mac's expression, which is classic.
Dev's free-style was obviously not a part of the run-throughs. She stops dancing for a second, her face a slate of surprise. She backs off her mic as she clearly mouthes, "What the fuck?"
He never breaks his flow. Ever the professional, she recovers her dance step with the next beat, grins wickedly at Dev, pulling his chin up as he slithers down her belly.
He drops to his knees and raps to her with a hand on her hip and his face uplifted.
sexy baby mama/got your next baby drama/top you like a creature/make you drop the Preacher/keep you as my feature/sex you like a seizure/sweet Mac-fucking-Kenna/be my fuckin' sinner, yeah?/
The addictive bass line from The Siege erupts into a grungy, furious solo. A door opens in the back stage that has been concealing the live band, and the bass player strides through. Dev flips to his feet and books it toward the back of the stage, getting in the bassist's face and slinging at hand at Mac.
"MacKenna Lawson-Heartley?/YO! THINK YOU LOST HER, HEARTLEY!!!"
The only reason I know the bass player is Adam is because Dev just called him out by name.
The normally grungy alt-rocker with the uber-modern smooth blonde undercut, tank top and armful of leather bracelets?
Completely eclipsed.
Hidden under his Skid Marcs Tribute costume.
He's channeling Skid Marc's bassist, Artie Lesesne. Channeling him in at least eighteen inches of a brunette mullet wig contained by a bandanna. Rocking Artie's old eighties style in skinny acid-wash jeans tucked in tall cowboy boots, and topped with a tasseled black leather vest. It's hard to say whether his boots, his neck or his guitar strap has more hardware, but he's weighted down with gunmetal accessoriesâ buckles, crosses, and sheriff's badges. Basically whatever glitters and can be attached to him.
He looks exactly like the Skid Marc's iconic nineteen-eighties-something videos. The stadium erupts as his bass solo drops into the unmistakable Skid Marc's song Halfway There.
Mac's performance is apparently back on rehearsed track because she shoves Dev away with a practiced hand and circles Adam-slash-Artie as he vibes on the bass line. The mullet is Artie, but the adorable humble grin is pure Preacher. He winks at her. She pretends to waver between him and Dev for just a second, then waves good-bye at the rapper as she kisses her rockstar. Adam-Artie tongues his groupie/bride and shoots Dev a bird with most of his fingers still on the fretboard of his bass.
Dev staggers off stage broken-hearted as Adam-Artie breaks away from Mac and jerks his head toward a white grand piano rising out of the floor. Mac nods and strides towards it as two "roadies" rush out to costume her for the next song. She steps into a tiny denim skirt. The other thrusts a black T-shirt over her head. She dances over to the stage camera and thrusts her chest into it, pulling the t-shirt straight for viewing. The camera projects the graphic onto the jumbotron as the entire stadium erupts in comprehension.
The T-shirt is brand new merch and it reads:
Skid Marcs-Soundcrush
Double Impact Tour
Summer 2020
Mac turns her back to the camera, giving a view of the tour schedule for the first time. Twenty US cities and Six Summer Festivals.
The roar is loud enough to make me want to cover my ears for fear of headache, but I don't because I'm so happy for the bands. This has been a huge endeavor for Skid Marcs and Soundcrush to hash out. It's been months in the making and I know how excited everyone has been about it.
I look over at Street. I wonder how he feels about it. If he has any jealousies, they don't show. He's hooting and clapping along with the rest of the Grammy guests.
Mac undoes her hair as she prances up to her piano. A few vigorous head bangs and she's got a bushy red fluff to rival any hair band, although the key board player for Skid Marcs was never a core band member, so she's not impersonating a particular legend.
The back of the stage erupts in fireworks as giant stage doors open up. Trace-slash-Jax and Leed-slash-Matt come flying past Bodie-slash-Dom's kit. I do mean flyingâthey are suspended on harnesses which sling them out over the crowd just like in the old Halfway There video.
Leed is mid-air, brandishing a full microphone stand just like Matt.
Trace lands firstâin a full white leather trenchoat with rhinestones, and black satin pants with lightening bolts on the sides. His wig is dark spirals of hair well past his shoulders. He steps up to his mic and wraps his lips around the talk boxâthe mouth-operated special effects instrument that is connected to his guitar amp and makes the unforgettable "talking sound" on the opening riffs of Halfway There.
Bodie is thrashing on his kitâhis bushy blond perm, old school fake tattoos and Oakley's making him look very much like Dominic. He sticks his tongue out and licks during his camera close-ups, imitating the Skid Marcs uncouth drummer.
Leed, though.
He's a perfect double for Matt del Marco. The costume crew obviously spent the most time on him. His sandy permed wig hanging past his shoulders looks exactly like Matt did in the eighties and his makeup is done to mimic Matt's features, I think. I also think he's wearing the actual black and red leather pants and red boots from the Halfway There video, along with a tasseled denim jacket and a scarf that hangs down between his knees. As he lands, he fluffs his hair and makes the infamous finger trigger motion that Matt used in the video. The roar in the Staples Center approaches an actual rock concert. And it stays that way.
Leed grabs his scarfed microphone and carries it sideways, stomping across the stage just like Matt would amidst the roar. He scans his domain like the King he is.
In a crowd of thousands when he doesn't even know I'm there, his eyes meet mine.
He stops mid-strut and his expression widens into amazement for one brief second. Then he gives me the slow curling grin that makes everything from my navel to my sex roll in helpless desire. His lips twitch in a nearly blown kiss to me, but with perfect timing he swings the microphone to his mouth and starts the low, spoken first line of the song.
The one glance, the brief grin, the almost air kiss make my head swirl with confusion and hope. Was our break-up just a break after all? Is there any possibility at all he regrets the ultimatums he tried to enforce? Could he forgive me for sleeping with Cam?
My heart aches with the fierce longing for all the answers to be yes. But beyond my aching heart, even my blurry head knows the truth. None of that matters while Slade stands between us.
I clutch my purse, thinking of the help that lies within. I push that thought away and focus on Leed, who owns every heart in this arena, but none more than mine.
Soundcrush rocks Halfway There like they own the rights. Leed headbangs enough to cause himself a concussion. Trace and Adam play their instruments back to back on their knees. Bodie throws about two dozen drumsticks. Mac strips off her t-shirt and throws it into the audience. Adam Levine catches it, takes his tux jacket off and puts it on over his dress shirt.
And all that happens in the first verse of the song. Because just as the band is about to hit the anthem-like chorus, the real Skid Marcs come strolling onto the stage, shit-cool, looking as current and sexy as if they were thirty, not fifty. Matt snatches Adam's back up mic and cuts Leed off.
"Whoa. Hold up."
The massive sound dies away to a tiny backbeat and subtle bass. Matt holds up a hand to the crowd and it immediately quiets while he pretends to look confused. He shoots disgust between Trace, Leed and Jax, the Skids Marcs guitarist.
"Can you believe these Soundcrush guys? Are they mocking us?" Matt says to Jax, and Jax sighs and shakes his head.
"Feels like, man."
Matt walks over to Trace and braces him on the shoulder. The crowds roars again and Trace and Matt give identical smirks, but then Matt furrows his devil brows and shushes the crowd by flapping a hand. Matt turns back to Trace.
"What's going on here, Trace?"
Trace cracks his neck and rubs his jaw. "What's it look like, Old Man? We're warming up the crowd for you."
Someone whistles in the crowd and yells. "You tell the Old man."
Matt shoots them a bird and keeps his eyes on Trace. He grips Trace's shoulder hard and plucks the guitar tab out of Trace's hand, tossing it to the crowd. "You want to try that shit again with a little more respect, Son?"
"Sorry," Trace grimaces. "We thought...since we're going on tour together...we should brush up on your songs. You know...in case you guys needed...I don't know...back-up or something."
"Back-up?" Matt nearly growls. "You're diggin' a hole, Son."
Trace rubs his jaw again then throws out a dramatic finger to Leed. "It was his idea."
Leed laughs arrogantly but falters dramatically as Matt rounds on him. He holds up Matt's scarved microphone stand in front of him like a defense. "Look, Matt, you're taking this all wrong. This is a tribute, see? You guys are legends and we wanted to show you some love..." Leed covers his mouth to hide his grin because Matt's demeanor is impressively hostile. Leed looks down at the floor, doing his best to look ashamed and stay in character, because he's about to bust out laughing at the way Matt is pushing up on him. "Man, come on," Leed half laughs. "We were just having some fun tonight...publicity for our joint tour."
"Joint tour?" Matt cracks his neck and runs a hand through this perfectly styled gray hair. "Joint tour? Trace, is your frontman confused? Does he mean the tour this summer? The one where Soundcrush is opening for Skid Marcs?"
Trace scratches his forehead. "Uhhh, yeah. That's the one he means."
Matt nods. Artie and Jax are pacing around Adam and Trace with hostility. Dom is back by the drums, flipping Bodie's blond hair.
"Donovan, Mike..." Matt snaps a finger to side stage and two roadies rush out, equipping Artie and Jax. Dom pushes Bodie off the kit stool.
Suddenly Matt's shoulders ease and he laughs.
"Whoa there, Dom. No need to get physical with the kids," Matt says reasonably. "They say they were doing a Skids Marcs tribute. That's cool."
"Really?" Trace says hopefully.
"Really. Look, we'll even share the stage, this one time. BUT. Just so you're clear on how the tour works: you guys play your shit. We play the good shit."
Trace, Adam, and Leed look at each other nod reluctantly. Bodie crashes his cymbal in agreement.
"Fine," Leed says and thrusts the mic stand at Matt. "Can we maybe save Halfway There for a joint encore together?"
Matt's still glaring at him, ignoring the question.
"Are those my pants?"
Leed looks down at the outrageous red and black leather leggings. "Yeah. Man, I've always loved these. Hope you don't mind, Marianne let me borrow them. I'll give 'em back, of course."
"You can keep 'em," Matt says dryly.
Leed beams and goes to hug Matt, but Matt holds up a quelling hand. "Just...gimme the jacket."
Leed's smile falters. "Wh-what? But...it goes with the pants..."
"The jacket. And the scarf."
Leed hands them over and the crowd cat-calls as Matt dons his thirty year old stage costume.
Leed slaps him on the back. "Still fits."
Matt shoulders past Leed with an eye roll and swaggers to the piano. Mac stands and preens in her denim skirt and bra while Matt gives her a little up and down, and makes a show of gesturing to her and nudging his bandmates. They pretend to consult, then Matt tells her. "We need somebody that runs keys like a badass. You can play with us anytime you like, darlin'."
Mac giggles like a fangirl and rips a jaunty tune. "Anything for you guys."
"Hey!" Adam calls into Trace's mic.
"I'm just kidding, Preacher," Mac says brightly. Lower, leaning into Matt's mic, "But seriously...anything I can do for you, Matt..."
He laughs and kisses her hand as he swings away from her. "Right now I need Dom to count us in and your husband to hit that bass line..."
Dom beats his sticks and yell. "One, two..."
"Wait, wait, wait," Jax says, glaring at Leed. "One more thing. Take these fucking wigs off. You look ridiculous. Some shit you can't bring back."
The crowd screams as the Soundcrush guys pull their wigs off and comb through their hair. They hand off their excessive amounts of leather and tassels to the older guys, and the stage becomes distinctively Skid Marcs and Soundcrush again. Somebody tosses Bodie a huge bongo that he catches easily as he comes to sit on the backside of Mac's piano bench.
"All right," Matt makes eye contact around the stage. "Everybody clear how this works now? Oh and the guitar solo goes to Jax."
"Hold up" Leed interrupts again. "You want me to take the first verse...or..."
Matt's glare gets even more deadly.
Leed sucks his lips, looking absolutely gorgeous with his lengthening sweaty auburn hair. "I...I'll just sing back-up on the chorus...gotcha." Leed is really a wonderful actor. Even though this all obviously a joke, he manages a vibe that is both comedic and genuinely devastated.
Matt sighs. "Fuck, don't cry. You can have the second verse."
"Thanks man!" Leed wails.
"Why does he get a verse if I don't get a solo?" Trace complains.
"Jesus, they are so fucking whiny," Jax complains.
"Kids, man." Matt pretends to look at his son in exasperation. "Let him do the talk box," Matt groans to Jax.
"Fine. You can do the talk box," Jax steps back from the mic and Trace raises his arms in victory. Dom is counting them in again and the sound erupts.
As if they hadn't already given the performance of the night with their comedic dialogue, the show those two bands put on?
Double impact, indeed.
Once they start to play, all joking is abandoned. The sound is less abrasive more energetic aand more intricate than the rough rocker cut of thirty years ago. It retains all the power but with twice the mastery. Despite what Matt said, Artie and Trace duke it out in a guitar solo that no one wants to end.
There's no competition between Matt and Leed. Their vocal performance is in pure agreement. Their power is completely balanced, their harmonies are perfect and the visual combo of two of the sexiest, most iconic singers to ever front a rock band? It's something to remember forever. A legendary frontman at his zenith and the bright star that is his only heir apparent.
Matt proves he's no where past his prime as he leaps on top of Mac's piano and beckons her to join him. Bodie hoists her up to dance and sing with Matt, then Bodes shows his versatility by taking over on keys, while Mac has her own personal fangirl experience.
As Halfway There goes all the way to close, Adam underlays the driving rhythm with a subtler but still upbeat groove and the band continues the mash-up by transitioning into the final song.
Soundcrush's newest single, December Dawn. Trace warned me it was dropping last week, and I've made a point not to turn on the radio or play any alt rock channels on my subscription app.
Before the song gets started, the dancers are back, now clothed in togas. They whirl around the Soundcrush members, clothing them in robes like Roman Rock Gods. Mac is transformed into Aphrodite. Leed emerges as Bacchus, with a heavy crown of grapes and a chalice that he drinks from. He passes it off to Matt, who drinks.
"Fuck that's real wine," he says, taking another gulp before passing it off to a dancer, who serves everyone on the stage before returning it to Leed, who has abandoned his eighties hair band strut and is showing off his killer dance skills with the toga troupe. He stops dramatically and holds the heavy cup out to the audience. The stage lights morph into a special effect.
He glimmers like a dark god, as he roars,
"Hollywood, Are you ready to Bacchanalia!?!?!"
It's ironic, because it's actually the summer solstice, not the winter solstice, but Soundcrush is known for flipping expectations.
The audience of shit-cool celebrities screams like a mosh pit as dozens of servers pour from the wings of the Staples center, quickly serving the main floor with galsses of wine.
I pass mine off to Street and the server smiles, offering me a fruity non-alcoholic mocktail instead.
"To the night!" Leed bellows, and the entire floor of the Grammy's rises and returns his toast. "To the night!"
He's looking straight at me. "Because it's alway darkest before the December Dawn!" He drains the cup and returns to the dance. Matt is groovin' and grinning, holding his own leaning on his mic stand as Leed wings around him in a circle. Mac begins a addictive minor key melody on the piano. Bodie's been keeping the back beat back on the kit, but Dom brings in a tinny swing percussion sound by using an agogo bell.
The finalized Soundcrush version of December Dawn is nearly unrecognizable to me, except for the melody. They've paired down the syllables in the lyrics and turned Leed's song into a dark sultry alt-rock track. It's backed by enough rhythm that it can be remixed for club play. It's no longer a bittersweet love song but an addictive plea for love to be restored by the December dawn. Mac is featured, but by the midpoint, the entire stage of Soundcrush and Skid Marcs personnel are singing like a choir as Leed overlays his powerful voice.
Leed's every note, every move, every expression is divine assurance.
He flows down the front stage steps, cameras dashing before him and his floor length Roman Robe flowing behind him. He dances up to several celebrities, slapping hands and sharing the mic with a couple of female pop stars.
Then he makes his way down the aisle.
He lopes toward me like he planned it.
Then I realize, he did plan it. My little snitch of a sister told him I was here after she promised not to. That's why they made me switch to the aisle seat.
Because Leed wanted me there.
And he's coming for me.
He stalks forward, buoyed by the dancers and his triumphant stage presence.
He's inevitable.
He's magnificent.
As he puts his mic away from his mouth and breathes, "Sunshine," I know I'm still he's and he's still mine.
His face is streaked with sweat and his eyes are wild with adrenaline as he reaches for my hand, laces it in his and sings.
Leave behind the wrong
Kiss the bright December Dawn
He twists my wrist, pulling me roughly to him. The kiss he delivers to my lips is ravenous. He's a lion. He's a vampire. He's an insatiable reveler and I'm his bottomless chalice of wine.
Then he's gone, leaving me burning and empty at the same time. He dances away down the aisle and reclaims his stage for the finale in which Dev returns for a free-style then he, Mac, and Matt raise the vocals to a religious experience.
Soundcrush and Skid Marcs should have been the show closer, because they bring down the house.
Leed's triumphant gaze is for me as the crowd cheers, he bows and the curtain closes.
It seems insane to me that the show goes on after that. I'm riding a wave of euphoria and all I want is to touch him again, but I can't. Two commercial breaks later, Soundcrush and Skid Marcs stroll to their seats, now clothed in formal attire. Leed smiles brilliantly at me and nods very carefully, before taking his seat beside Marley.
The rest of the night I'm more focused on the back of his head that the awards showâexcept near the end when Mac and Dev take Record of the Year. She looks deliriously happy as Adam, Leed and Dev all fight to hug her at once. She and Dev make a cute thank you speech.
Mac makes all the appropriate thank yous, to Dev, to the Academy, to reps and producers, and then she thanks her big brother for bringing her into Soundcrush and giving her the best family she's ever known. And she thanks Adam for "lying about our love affair to the guys until I was ready to own up to the truth that you are my soul mate. Thank you for my daughter and our future."
The camera's pan to Adam in the audience and he gives her the chin tip and then the humble smile.
Dev stays in character and acts like a total thug until the very end of his speech when he drops one line of aristocratic apology to "my good friend and Soundcrush's own Adam Heartley" for "inexcusably losing control of my flow due to the ridiculous appeal of the magestic Mrs. Heartley, to whom I owe the entirety of this honor." He bows to Mac and shakes his Grammy at her.
"Get your own Shorty," Adam calls from the audience.
Dev looks down the row from Adam to Bridge. "Working on it, mate."
The endless show finally comes to a close and the glamour recedes as the lights come up. I'm fighting my way down the aisle against the throng of thirsty stars rushing to the exits, eager to get to the after parties.
Leed is thick in a pocket of celebrities who are exhaustively raving to all the various Soundcrush and Skid Marcs members. For some reason, Dev has him by the shoulder, talking in his ear and pushing him backward toward the stage...away from me.
Leed's eyes are on me, but I can't reach him.
"Hey," Trace's brash voice is harsh, coming toward me. "Let the lady through," he grabs my wrist and tows me roughly forward so that I'm nearer to Leed. We still can't get through to him. The press around him is ridiculous. Everybody wants a selfie with the Lion of Soundcrush. Even celebrities are acting like fans.
He grins and shrugs helplessly at me as Dev keeps pushing him backwards. "You going to Matt's?" he yells.
I nod.
"I have another...party...I have to go to first. Business!" he yells as my face drops in disappointment. "It's a have-to. Wait for me at Matt's, okay?"
I beam at him and wave over the heads of the crowd. He raises a hand to me with the sign of the horns, then smiles gently as he extends the thumb and wags his hand to turn the gesture into the "I Love You" sign.
Then he yells "Trace!" and turns away, he and Dev forcing their way through in the opposite direction from me. The ever aggressive Trace shoves roughly until he catches up with them. They plow through a side exit, clearly intent on getting to a back-door limo and fleeing ahead of the logjamb of traffic that's about to happen.
I wade my way towards Kat, who has Marley firmly by the arm, towing her away from Bodie and Arabella arguing. "Where are they going?" I gesture to the door where Leed, Trace and Dev disappeared.
She narrows her eyes. "I don't know. But it's good that we'll have a moment alone. There's something I have to tell you."
Somehow Kat manages to finagle an all girl's limo with only Marley, Mac and the Strut girls. Row, Harper, Chili and Sadie are raising hell up by the bar, pouring shots and taking selfies with their Best New Artist Grammy's.
The four of us are sitting along the curved seat in the back. Mac is practically sitting in my lap, smothering me with air kisses. "Oh my god, Pollyanna is back. There's hope for Leed's liver after all."
"Nothing is settled," I say with gravity, shooting her a dark look.
"We're going to settle it," she shoots back, exchanging a glance with Marley, whose expression registers nothing.
"Don't you think she needs to know, though?" Kat asks Mac. "Before they have another huge misunderstanding?"
"Know what?"
Mac clings to my neck. "No. I refuse to lose her again."
"Know what?" I repeat, looking around. There's enough going on tonight, without some new wrinkle complicating things.
Mac sighs. "Nothing is going on, I swear. I have interrogated both parties. Viciously."
"What is not going on?" I demand.
Kat's face is pale. "Tam and Ollie have been staying at Leed's place. Ben is very upset about it, but she won't go home. I'm not sure how much longer Ben is going to stand for it. He gave her an ultimatum...come home or he's filing for separation. Obviously she didn't like that too much. She told him to do what he needed to do."
"I really think it has more to do with Leed's drinking than anything else," Marley puts in. "Until yesterday, he hasn't been sober in weeks and Tam is extremely upset by his binge drinking."
I look down at my hands, trying to breathe through the heavy feeling in my stomach. Of course Tam is extremely worried. Leed is a diabetic and she knows it. Binge drinking is one of the most dangerous things he can do. It makes perfect sense to me that Tam would be sticking close and worrying over him. And it makes perfect sense that Leed would let her, because it's a great reason to keep Ollie and Tam away from Ben and by association, from his boss, Varrick Von.
Still, the news that Leed is out of control with his drinking and risking his health is a heavy weight on my heart. And yet just another reason for me to turn to the poison calling to me in my purse.
I meet Marley's eyes. "I'm sure you're right. I'm sure it will all work out, now that the Big Night is almost over."
Marley smiles back at me.
Kat looks relieved. "So you're not freaked out by the fact that Tam is living at Leed's?"
"No," I say softly, looking out the window. That's the least of my worries tonight.
âââââ
The del Marco Mansion is lit like I've never seen it. The entire house is packed with formally attired bodiesâdel Marco friends and associates that didn't score Grammy tickets.
I immediately find a bathroom. I lock the door, and stare at the contents of my purse. I pull out a small baggie and then check my reflection in the mirror.
It's time for more.
A short time later, I'm standing on the balcony above Matt's impressive backyard. Tonight, it's rigged like a clubâwith a huge DJ booth, dance floor and pulsing lights, People not dancing are crowded around the multiple bars, enjoying cocktails courtesy of Matt's millions.
It doesn't take long at all, for him to find me.
I thought I was prepared for his touch, but it's all I can do not to shiver in revulsion as Slade puts a hand to my bare upper back.
"You look lovely, Ashlynn."
"Thank you," I murmur, my eyes flashing briefly to his face. His cold, worn expression is always so at odds with his youthful body and demeanor. His eyes narrow in displeasure, I look down quickly, as is a sub's habit. He grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his eye again.
"You're high." His voice is even.
"Not so much," I say softly.
"Give it to me," he says. I open my purse and hand over a tiny baggy with a dozen blue pills. "From now on, you medicate only from my hand, do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir," I murmur, snapping my clutch shut. "I'm sorry. This isn't easy for me."
His fingers slide down my spine. "It's so easy, my dear. All you have to do is give in to your nature to submit to me. Your new contract is waiting. You sign and we all win. Your precious Lion need fear nothing from me, I get to keep the most lucrative act on my label, and youâyou my dearâfinally get the best of both worlds. The soft feelings that only a pussy like Leed can deliver...and the discipline your dark, twisted soul truly needs to keep your habits defined."
I nod with my head bowed. He grabs my wrist. "Let's go."
My eyes snap to his. "Now?"
His eyebrows raise. "Unless you don't actually mean to go through with it?"
I sink my head again. "No...I...I do. I want this."
I do. For five weeks, I've thought of little else. I tried to run from this, but I can't. It's the only way to keep Leed safe.
"Then you are already mine, aren't you? And you are already being disobedient," he hisses.
"I'm sorry, Sir."
"We'll correct it." He gestures a hand. I proceed back through the house.
He stops me with the lightest touch as we float by Adam and Mac. "My crown jewel and her valiant protector."
"Adam Heartley. Very nice to finally meet you, Slade," Adam puts out his hand to Slade and gives me a curious glance, but has better manners than to ask what's up.
Slade shakes with him and gives Mac a kiss on the cheek. "Congratulations on the Grammy. Many more to come, as part of Soundcrush and as a solo artist."
"Honestly, creating is its own reward," Mac says lightly, smiling at her husband. She means not only the music but Lennon and the happy family they've created.
"Of course. Congratulations on your marriage and daughter as well. I do hope we will have a little more projection time as you grow your family?" He looks like a scolding but genial father.
His act makes my stomach want to empty its contents, but I fight to stay smiling.
Adam eyes Slade without expression, then gives him a tense grin. "That's the plan."
"Good, good." Slade offers me his arm, like he's actually a gentleman. "Well, if you'll excuse us. I'm keeping a tight hold on Ms. Ballard, because something tells me that despite the break-up story in the press, being in Ashlynn's orbit is the best way to attract your Lion. I need a word with him about some endorsements he's delaying..."
Adam raises his drink and nods his goodbye. I silently communicate with Mac, but she has her Killer face on. I can't tell if she sees my tiny eyebrow raise of alarm.
I didn't expect thisâthat Slade would want me to sign the contract now.
Everything seems to happen so fast after we leave Adam and Mac. Slade edges us out the door with hardly a word to anyone else. I see Marley on the way out, but she's having a tense conversation with Bodie before I can catch her attention.
I have no choice but to leave with Slade, but I just wish I could leave a message for Leed with someone. I'm so desperate I actually look around for Varrick, hoping that he'll assume his old role of running interference for Viggo. That somehow Varrick will be able to arrange for Leed to be given some devious third party explanation about where I went. But Varrick is nowhere to be seen.
Everything is a blur as the valet opens the door to Slade's Bugatti and we slip away into darkness.
Thoughts on the Grammy's? I will tell you, it was FUN to write.
Where did Leed, Dev, and Trace go?
Thoughts on Ash's behavior? Is she high? Is she just desperate to make sure Slade doesn't hurt Leed? Heck, is Cam right--does she have a major decision making problem?
What do you think will happen next?