Chapter 30: Drummer Boys Make Deals

This song is mentioned late in the chapter. A cover of Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover. A cover by Matt Palmer. Sophie Hawkins did the original back in the nineties....

Bodie

Of fucking course the kid is a natural drummer, but his skill on the keys blows me away. It's a classical piece he's playing, ironically one that I've heard a lot because when Ashlynn lived with Trace, she had a classical playlist, and this piece was the first song.

Not that we listened to her playlist intentionally. Sometimes we would all hang out by Trace's pool. He would invariably say something to piss her off. Her response? She would change the playlist to classical music on her phone, go inside, and lock the back door so we were forced to listen.

Trace, never being foresightful enough to bring his own damn phone off the kitchen counter in anticipation of pissing her off, and being far too proud to apologize to her, would just ignore the situation and use the opportunity of her absence to break out the liquor from the pool bar. After a couple of rounds of tequila shots, Leed would be the one to either call Ashlynn  or charm his way through the locked door and get her to change the playlist back to something more fun. He never got her to come back out to the pool, though.

I grin at the memory as Darius finishes the piece. I guess Leed finally got his Tequila Girl. It will be pretty interesting to see how that goes, between them. If Leed can settle down with Trace's ex-wife, and with Ollie and Tam in the mix, surely there is hope for me and Marley and Darius.

And TJ. No way around it, TJ is very important to Darius.

So that makes TJ important in this house. Shit. I shouldn't have thrown him in Marley's face like that. It's just fucking hard to take—to see her cryin' on his shoulder. Seeing Darius look to him like he's a compass. Like he would be lost without him.

TJ stands in the place I should have had the shot to fill.

But the past is the past. And here and now, Darius and I share something that TJ can't take from us.

This. A passion. A skill. A craft.

I check my watch. Leed should be here soon, but there's enough time to point out to Darius that there was something squirrelly with a couple measures of his bass cleft. When I ask him to play the beginning again, I stand behind him and follow along with the sheet music. He makes the very subtle mistake again—the right notes, just not expressed properly. I've heard this piece a lot I know exactly what it should sound like.

"Something's not right there with those sixteenth notes." I circle the measures a finger, then dot the staccato marks and the ties above other notes, denoting an expression of flow.

He gives me a look, like he doesn't like being corrected, but plays it again, slowly. "Yeah, that's it."

When he speeds it back up, he makes the same mistake.

"Shit," he mutters. He plays the several measures four times more at three-quarter tempo and then brings it up to speed four more times.

I'm impressed by his dedication. I half-expected him to blow my observation off, because no casual listener could hear the slightly misexpressed rhythm.

"Thanks," he said. "I didn't realized you played piano, too."

I laugh. "No where near as well as you. But I play a little of everything. Music was all I did in juvi. There was a music therapy program, and I figured out that I could play just about anything. After I settled in, I kept my nose clean and didn't cause any trouble in there, so a couple of the guards helped me out and let me practically live in the music room on their shifts. It was basically a three year intensive, self-taught music education program for me."

"So that's what you studied at college when you got out? Music?"

"Hell no. If I was going to college, I was going for a sure thing. I was pre-law. If Soundcrush hadn't got their break, I would be graduating law school in a couple of months."

"Seriously?" He makes a face. "Why law school?"

"Let's just say three years in the big house promotes an interest in the justice system."

"Right," Darius says. "So in juvi...this was basically, your anthem, huh?" He strikes two iconic chords, and then plays them again, with a shit-eating grin. Then his fingers fly.

He's playing "Jailhouse Rock."

"Very funny." I'm already settling behind the kit. "Let's see if you can sing as well as you can run your mouth and your fingers."

"You already heard me sing."

"I heard you cryin' that sad One Republic song. I ain't heard you front like a front."

He breaks off, "Hold on, I don't know the words." He pulls them up on his phone.

He does a damn good job groovin' that old song. Effortless sync with my beat, and you'd never know he was unpracticed with the words. His voice and expresion is good—real good. Like one of those kids you see on a tv music contest, that you can't believe is only thirteen.

Daruis just... has it.

The same thing Leed has.

The X factor.

Really, it is an x factor. Some undefinable thing. Some coolness of character, some inner-sourced ease while performing that makes the difference in a tryhard and a natural born star.

We finish the song and I notice my hands are shaking, as I carefully place my drumsticks to my right, on the low tom.

Does he recognize it yet? Does he have the other thing that Leed has? That we all have, but Leed especially?

The need to perform? The drive to shine?

I almost hope he doesn't.

Because being the singular star in a musical outfit? Being the guy? Being clamoured for by millions? Being a poster boy for sex, drugs and rock 'n roll? Being something almost inhuman to adoring fans who want a piece of you and also to people in the industry who just want to exploit you for money?

That part ain't fun.

Leed is a fucking miracle. He's one of the most well-adjusted front men in the business. Even at twenty-five. I never worry about him keeping his balance. Leed was an old soul when I met him at fifteen, and by the time we reacquainted at UGA, he had his head on straight about leading Soundcrush to the top. He was on manifesting a rock star destiny—even more so than Trace. It kept him out of some of the trouble I got into with too many parties and too many pills.

But Darius is not Leed. Darius is thirteen years old. The truth is, the spotlight can be a harsh place for anyone, but I'm pretty sure it's a crazy hard place to grow up.

There's a part of me that wants to discourage his music. At least give him time to grow up a little.

"Hey, can I ask you a favor?" Darius says. "If the answer is no, it's cool...I mean I know you are like, busy working on your...personal stuff right now..."

Shit. I know what he's going to ask me before he does, and it answers my question already. He already has it.

The soul of a star.

"You want to use my tech to cut a demo, huh?" I say grimly.

His eyebrows raise and his mouth drops into a O. "Uhhm, well...yeah that would be really cool at some point, I guess. I don't really have any original material that's ready for that, though. And I don't know anything about making a real demo. I was thinking more like...maybe once you got your sound equipment, I could mess around in there and make some high quality content to post?"

I smile at him, relieved to know he's not as ambitious as I'm building up in my head. "You want to be a YouTuber?"

He gives me another scathing look. "Dude. I already have nineteen thousand subscribers."

I hold up my hands. "My bad." I grab my phone and search on YouTube, finding him pretty easily. He has about twenty cover performances up. I listen for about ninety seconds to the most recent—he's posted a version of the Apologize arrangement he and I worked on. It's good. The video isn't the best quality and he needs a mic and filter for a little cleaner sound, but for just working with his phone and his keyboard, it's damn good.

Shit. I'm proud and scared as I click the subscribe button.

As I do that, I have the feeling like maybe I just joined his team.

I shake it off. He's a just kid messing around on YouTube. I'm getting way ahead of myself here. I'm going to keep all my thoughts about his potential to myself. Well, maybe I'll talk to Marley about it, just so she's prepared if the kid blows up on YouTube.

"Nineteen thousand and one," I tell him. Then I ask for his Instagram and follow him there, too. "Do me a solid and follow me back on Instagram," I tell him.

He looks sheepish. "I already did. I followed all you guys."

"Dude, that's not helping me out," I laugh at him.

"How is it not helping you out to follow all your bandmembers?" he frowns.

"Because we don't look at followers as business. It's personal. It's more like...a little rivalry thing between us. It used to be Leed with the most numbers. Then Mac and I were about the same. Trace is so shady, and his posts so cryptic that nobody got them, and Adam is so damn lazy about his social, they were at the bottom. But Trace blew up when he became a del Marco, and Adam blew up when Madam became official. So now I'm at the bottom of the pile."

"You should post more selfies with Arabella," Darius advises.

"You sound like my boss at the label."

"You really have a boss?"

"Everybody's got one. Speaking of yours," I tilt my head upstairs. "She wanted me to remind you to pack some things when you get to TJ's. What time do you want us to pick you up?"

Darius is really not happy about staying here. I'm not taking it personally, but I know that Marley is, so when he scowls, "She's really going to make me do this?" I reply, "Yes. Are you really going to give her a hard time about it? She's trying, Darius."

"You...you don't know what it's like," he mutters.

"Dude. Son of a single mother...who worked her ass off for us," I point at myself.

"That's not what I meant."

"What do you mean, then?"

He sighs and begins to play Fix You by Coldplay on the keys. I let him play for a few minutes. Eventually, he stops.

"She's not happy. It's not...it's not fun, being with her, okay? I know that sounds shitty, and I'm not trying to be a jerk. But at TJ's...it's fun. Mama Pat is always cookin' and laughin', TJ and I are always shootin' hoops. Even Jory and Shay are fun. When I'm with Marley...she's always trying to be some perfect mother and it doesn't feel...real."

I feel what he says like a kick in the balls. I see her totally differently. To me, Marley is smart and bookish, but also quirky and playful. I am mesmerized by the word games we play and her sassy attitude.

I am utterly distracted by the kind of fun Marley could be.

But that's because, when Marley is with me, she's Jasmine. I don't mean Daemon's Jasmine. Not the one he made. I mean, the girl she was blossoming into with me.

"Darius, do you get that your Mama's girlhood was stolen from her? That she had to grow up too fast?"

"Yeah. Because of me."

"No. Because of fucking Daemon." Maybe I shouldn't have said that, but goddammit, it's the truth.

"Same thing," Darius shrugs.

"No, it's not. Look, I'm not going to talk a bunch of shit about Daemon or give you a lecture on how to treat your mom. I'm just going to ask you one question. Would you like to see Marley...happier?"

He gives me a look like I'm slow. "Well, duh."

I throw a drum stick at his head—not hard, giving him plenty of time to catch it. "Well, dumbshit—stick around here and help me make it happen."

He taps the stick on his leg. "You want to make her happy?"

Like I never wanted anything before, kid.

"Look, I get bored easy and I ain't sitting up in this house reading and meditating on my sobriety twenty four hours a day, that's for damn sure. Just because I'm not partying with drugs and alcohol now don't mean I'm dead. I got a lot of money, a lot of free time, and a lot of creativity. I'm fun as hell. And since Marley has to be on me all the time," I gesture for my stick back, he tosses it, I give a drum roll, "Her funny bone is bound to grow."

Darius groans and covers his head with his hand. "Dude. That sounded so wrong," At the same time I frown and say, "Wait, that didn't come out right...let me rephrase..."

"No, no. No need. Please god, don't make it any worse,"  he says.

"Oh, but I'm about to make it so much better. What if I told you that your mom has to tour with Soundcrush this summer?"

He looks at me in surprise. "There's no tour announced on Soundcrush's website."

"It's a limited engagement thing. It's on the low right now.  Keep it that way, please. But the point I'm trying to make...what would you think of coming out for a few dates? That could be a lot of fun, for you and your mom..."

"I think...it would be awesome if I could help out the roadies somehow. Like maybe as an internship?" he responds. "That would be great experience. Learning what the music life is really all about? Getting good with tech? Being around all the industry types?"

Shit. That really surprises me. I knew the kid would want to come on the road just to get the hell out of the neighborhood he's been in his whole life, but that his mind goes there—to gaining tech experience, to networking, to gauging the lifestyle...it makes me proud of his maturity at the same time it scares the hell out of me.

"Is that what you think you might want? To be a musician?"

He plays the optimistic intro to Viva La Vida. "Yeah. I mean, I don't have it all figured out yet. I just know...it kind of...calls to me. Until I met you, I thought it was probably just a fantasy. But..." he looks at me, "people do make it happen. I mean, you did."

Christ, I need a cigarette. Freaky heebie-jeebies are crawling all beneath my skin. I'm not ready to be a dad to a normal teenager. I'm sure as hell not ready to parent a kid like Darius, who might be positioning himself for huge rejections and huge complexities at such a young age.

I don't know what to say to him, so I just...go with the real deal.

"It does happen, but it's rare. Some artists get lucky, and others never get a big break when they really deserve it. There's nothing easy or fair or even...logical...about the music business. There are so many factors that create or bar success, but do want to know the truth? The big time like Soundcrush hit? Honestly...it's as much about timing as talent."

He shakes his head. "Naw. You guys are amazing."

I give him a nod of agreement. "Yeah, we are pretty good. But so were a thousand other bands that played our style since the nineties. They got ignored because alt rock was dead. Then the tide turned, and we were in the right place, at the right time, seen by the right guy, on the right night. Probably Leed would tell you under the right fuckin' moon, when his aura is at its best or some shit..."

He grins at me. "Yeah, I could see him saying that. From interviews he seems pretty..."

"Yeah. He likes the word intuitive. The word in the biz is eccentric."

"So...pretty much...weird?"

I grin back. "Yeah. Pretty much. But he's my best friend,  so I guess I don't mind. Speaking of Leed, he's gonna be here any minute. So let's get down to the deal."

"The deal?"

"You hang with us here at the house and do your best not to act like a shit to your mother, and help us get up to some fun, and I'll help you with some content for your YouTube channel, if your mom says its okay. Plus...I'll talk to her about you spending at least some of the time on the road with us this summer."

"Really?" he grins bigger than I've seen him smile yet.

I would like to see a smile like that on Marley's face.

"Yes, really. All subject to your mom's approval, of course."

"So you're basically bribing me with the rockstar life to hang out with my mom."

"No, she's gonna make you stay either way. I'm just encouraging happiness. For all of us. Do we have a deal?" I tap my cymbal lightly in anticipation.

"You make an offer too good to refuse." He rolls his eyes again but he's still grinning.

I give him an impressive, loud, crashing but brief solo, then throw my sticks at him again.

—————

An hour later, Darius and I have wrapped up our session with a little Xbox, and I've showered and changed into the most rock-starish clothes I've had on in months. Dark jeans, a black T that says, Music Saved My Life, and a leather jacket. Thank god for Tam, who must have listened to the several voice mails I've sent her over the last few days, and who let me know she's forgiven me for missing her wedding and Ollie's birth by sending a truckload of clothes and accessories for me this morning. No note. Just the clothes, but I got the message.

When I make it back to the main level, I see both TJ and Leed have arrived. They are standing awkwardly with Marley and Darius in the foyer. Leed is looking at Darius curiously. He cuts his eyes to me, then back at the boy. Leed's left hand goes unconsciously to his forehead, where he rubs lightly.

Shit. His freaky third eye is showing him shit he does not need to be seeing right now.

I start talking, hoping to shut his intuition down with an interruption.

After Darius and TJ leave, I joke with Marley

Then I joke with Leed while I bicker a little with Marley because she just looks too damn cute in her messy bun and I remember that we almost kissed in the kitchen and she shot me down yet again.

I hate feeling this way every time I look at her in those goddamn yoga pants that show off the curve of her hips and her nice round ass. I feel like I did every time I saw her after my initiation. A little angry at her at the same time I am dying to put my hands on those hips and pull her body in touch with mine. And knowing there are very damn good reasons why I can't.

I've got to get out of this fucking house with my boy before I go insane.

The main reason I want to leave is I need a cigarette, and I don't know how Marley is going to react to that. I know it would be better quit all the shit that can kill me, but if I can't have drugs and I can't have liquor and I can't have her, then goddammit, a cigarette is pretty much all the pleasure in life left to me.

Leed and I rockstar our way past Marley, and hit the new whip.

Within a quarter mile, we've acquired cigarettes at a convenience store and we are pimpin' through Old Fourth Ward with the windows rolled down, blaring music like we ballin'.

We don't talk much at first, which I appreciate. Leed is easy like that. It's only after we order a shit ton of truly terrible cheeseburgers at the Varsity and take at least a dozen selfies with fans that Leed slaps me in the arm hard and says, "Feel like a rock star again?"

"Mmmm, not quite."

I pull down my shades and grin at the the two hotties we just took selfies with. They are giving us backward glances and swinging their hips as they walk away. Since they are offering the show, I examine them critically. The one on the left has an ass almost as nice as Marley's, but not quite.

She sees me checking out her ass and gives me a winning smile. I wink at her and give her the chin tip, replacing my shades.

"Now?" Leed laughs as we climb back in the truck.

"Yeah," I say, slurping my soda through the straw.

We drive around some more, without talking much. Leed eventually pulls into the older gated neighborhood where I know his dad lives, but we don't go to his dad's house. We drive down to the scenic pond. Leed grabs his Varsity to-go cup, I grab the smokes and we cop a squat on the grass under a tree, just like back in the days when we used to landscape in neighborhoods like this.

Leed lies on his back and stares up at the tree. "So...confession."

Okay. I'll go first.  I have a thirteen year old son. And he's fucking awesome. And I pretty sure I'm falling in love with his mother. Again.

I don't say that, of course. I say, "Shoot."

He reaches over without looking at me, and I shake him out a cigarette and pass him the lighter. He passes the lighter back, and I join him in a confessional smoke.

"I am  wishing death upon Ashlynn's ex who has cancer, and I may have broken Tam's heart last week in Nashville."

I am completely feelin' the death wish for an ex. I'm kinda wishin' Daemon and TJ would croak and leave my family to me. "Well, obviously the motherfucker stealing Sunny's sweet sympathy needs to die. That's not a sin. That's a fucking fact."

Leed snorts.

Then I think of Cain Priestly, and I instantly regret my shit-talking. "I'm just kidding," I say sheepishly.

"Shit. I know."

"Alright. Tell me."

I listen as his stuff pours out of him. First and foremost his love for Ashlynn, then the Cam Complication, and the Babymama Drama.

When he finishes, I say, "Well, the Tam thing was inevitable."

He lifts his head and looks at me in disbelief. "That's exactly what Mac said!"

I shrug and draw on the cigarette. "Cause it's true."

"So," he squints at me, "You're not mad?"

"Do I wish there was no Ben in the picture and you were with my cousin right now and shit was less complicated for her? Sorta, yeah. But do I blame you at all for how any of that went down? Hell no. She made her choice. Do I like Ashlynn and think she deserves more happiness than about any chic I know, and wish you all the best in that? Of fucking course, man."

Leed grins and plops his head back on the grass. "Thanks, Bodes. I mean it. I love you, Brother, and I never want to be at odds with you over family shit."

That's  when I realize, we are real family now. Ollie is my second cousin and Leed's son. We are related by blood. Shit. That means Darius has a cousin. That's good, since he's an only child.

Leed's reaching out his arm to me. I grab his forearm. "Brother. Goddamn, we really are family now, aren't we?"

His reply is to grin and squeeze my arm hard. He pulls out his phone and thumbs up a video. He tosses it at me. I admire my baby cousin splashing in a huge garden bathtub with Ashlynn in a bathing suit.

I scroll through other videos.

I'm cackling at a video of Ollie and Lennon being held by Kat and Trace. Trace is making babytalk to Lennon and the look on Kat's face as she glances between Trace and the babies is a mix of confusion and pure lust.

"They look good with a couple kids on their laps," I snicker.

"Yeah, they keep having these baby lust/domestic moments and then getting all freaked out. It's fucking hilarious," Leed confides.

Leed gets quiet as I scroll through still shots of the babies.

"Damn, Ollie is a good-looking kid. Obviously the Jamison genetics at work," I joke with Leed. I'm only half-joking. In the still pictures, Ollie's features are full-on Leed. But in the video, there's something about his brow and eyes that reminds me of...well...of Darius.

"Yeah," he agrees like he means it. "Bodes, can I ask you something?"

"Yep," I flick my cigarette butt, then feel guilty and reach to collect it.

"Do you think it's possible that I have...prejudices?" Leed asks slowly.

"Only against stupid people and assholes. Those are pretty universal prejudices," I reason.

"I'm serious, man."

"You mean...racial prejudices?" I watch the ducks on the pond as I think about it. "We all make some stereotypical assumption about people given their race and circumstances, I guess. Like what I think of when you describe Ashlynn's white-bread quarterback boyfriend. But do I think you look at me and see the color of my skin and feel like I'm something different than you? Fuck no. Why do you even ask that?"

He lights another cigarette. "Because earlier...when I looked at Marley's kid, he reminded me so much of Ollie. It makes me wonder...if I'm only seeing an obviously biracial kid and thinking he looks like mine? Like, do I have a prejudice against my own kid I'm not even aware of?"

Jesus Christ.

"Gimme those goddamn cigarettes," I growl with ferocity.

Leed rolls up immediately, his hands held out to me in plea. "Whoa, Bodes. I swear I'm not trying to be an asshole, I'm just trying to—"

I wave him off. "No, man. I know. It's not that. Shit."

I snatch the cigarettes but my hand is shaking so bad that Leed hold out the light for me.

"Are you pissed at me?"

"No."

"Then what has you shaking in anger?"

"It's not anger." I say, drawing hard.

"Then what the fuck?"

"I'm just...freaked out."

"Why?" he says in exasperation.

"Because of your goddamn third eye."

He rubs his eye, like he's making the connection."

"Bodes? Bodes. Wait. Are you..." he says, his voice full of disbelief and insinuation.

I stare at Leed. There's just no fucking way I can let on to the truth. I gotta stick with the plan. The fewer people that know, the better.

I open my mouth to lie to him.

"Darius is my kid," I say bluntly.

Leed's face goes through contortions. Shock, confusion, thoughtfulness, incredulity, and something like smug knowing. Then he looks troubled.

"Fuck," he finally says.

"Fuck," I agree.

"That's some fucked up shit," he elaborates.

"Fucked up shit," I echo.

He blows out a long even breath. "No. I mean it. That's some fucked up shit. You have a kid with a woman you didn't even recognize." His voice is mild but his face looks disapproving.

"How many times do I have to say that Marley used look differently. Way differently," I growl.

"Talk about prejudices..." Leed raises his eyebrows.

"Alright, fine. So the first time I saw Marley at the Lunar Lounge, I labeled her as white and it prevented me from seeing the actual girl I used to know, whose hair was braided and whose skin was several shades darker than mine thanks to a spraytan addiction. I admit it. I see color, too. Are you happy?" I growl.

"No, not really," Leed says, still troubled. "You have a half-grown kid, Bodes. Jesus. Did you even know?"

I spend the next thirty minutes spilling my guts—telling Leed everything—about me, Jasmine, Daemon and TJ. How Darius came to be, how TJ and I conspired to switch the paternity test samples, how I learned the truth about Darius, how Marley always believed Darius was Daemon's son but now believes their was an "accidental mix-up" with the test,  and how dangerous Daemon truly is. The only thing I don't tell him is about Cain Priestly and the leverage Daemon has over me.

I also tell him the most important thing.

How I'm serious about getting straight this time. For Darius and Marley. I tell him I want to make a family with them.

Leed is silent for a long time after. "Bodes. I gotta ask the hard question. Cause I know the difference in my own heart now—between Tam and Ashlynn—"

"It's not just obligation," I say. "Marley and me...we belong together. She's not really herself, without me. And I damn sure ain't who I want to be...ever...except when she looks at me."

Leed smiles at me. Smiles at me like he might smile at Mac. Full of pride or some shit.

"That's crazy, Bodes. Crazy good."

"Mmmm...not yet. Right now it's just...crazy frustrating. Marley says she can't be with an addict. She's all about the job. About fixing me."

Leed snorts. "Sounds like you need to fix each other. I bet sexual healing is gonna be part of that equation real quick. Like she could resist your charms."

I rub my chin. "I don't feel so charming right now, Leed. I feel like a fucking mess. The methadone...it works—I mean I'm not jonesing hard—but I'm all over the fucking place. One minute I'm hot for her, the next I'm pissed at something stupid, the next I feel like layin' my head in her lap and cryin'."

"Uhhhh...that just sounds like the rollercoaster of love, to me..."

"That's cause you're sensitive," I say, grabbing his soda cup and shaking out some ice to crack. "I ain't that kind of guy." I muse. "I wanna be her man, and I don't want her to be my therapist. I wanna take care of her. And Darius, obviously."

"You and Adam are so fucking old-fashioned," Leed grunts. "Maybe Adam is so well-adjusted he doesn't have baggage, but those of us that aren't superhuman, we've all got shit to deal with. You take care of each other. You take the time and the risk and you let her in, even if you're a mess inside. That's real. That's love."

"That's great for hippies," I sneer at him. He snatches his cup back and turns it up.

"Fine. Get there the hard way, then," he shrugs. He chews the ice thoughtfully. "Be the man if you want, but be an honest man. I get taking it slow with the kid, and breaking it to him gently, but I really think you need to tell Marley about your part in switching the paternity test."

"Yeah, I know," I mumble. I know he's right, but I have to find the right time, the right way. We haven't even had a week to get...normal. I'll tell her...soon. As soon as I've earned a little cred. As soon as I deserve a little grace for forgiveness.

"Bodes," Leed warns. "You know I'm right."

"I know," I reply testily.

He nods and then grins. "Shit, man. Soundcrush is growing. Do you realize that means we all have kids now, except Trace? Trace is gonna be so fucking pissed to be last at something..."

I shake my head. "It's great, but Leed—"

His face falls. "You're gonna ask me to do that thing I can't fucking stand to do, aren't you?"

I nod slowly. "I am. Riley knows, but nobody else needs to know. I need to be able to bring Darius around the band without fear that someone will slip up and tell him. I don't know when Marley will think it's time to tell him the truth."

Leed groans and flops on his back. "Jesus Christ, Bodie. I hate secrets!!!"

When we get back to the house, Leed insists on coming in. I'm a little worried that he will spill his guts to Marley immediately, but he's chill. It's not that Leed can't keep a secret, it's just that he doesn't like to, so mostly he doesn't try. But when it's important, the dude performs flawlessly.

Leed and I tell our best rowdy rockstar stories for her. Emphasis on the wild scrapes we've been in, de-emphasis on the fangirls.

I watch her, curled up on the end of the couch with her knees tucked up to her chin, her eyes bunched up like almonds as she grins at our stories.

She's beautiful. Every single time I see her smile like that, I want her smile to last forever. It's crazy what she makes me feel. I have never thought so much about another person in my whole entire life.

Watching her laugh with Leed, I realize that I've got a lot to prove. I say I want to take care of her, but for the last week, I've been acting like spoiled child. I'm barely better than Darius—making her nag me about my medication, remind me to eat, tolerate my temperamental moods.

That stops now. From this moment on, I'm all about growing up and deserving this woman and our son.

Speaking of Darius, I realize it's nearly time to pick him up. I remind her gently and she jumps up guiltily, as if we are late already.

"We have time, girl," I tell her, and I mean it in all the ways.

Leed embraces her in a overly affectionate hug, picking her off her feet. "I guess it's overdue for me to say this, since you've been SCIC for awhile now, but welcome to the family, Marley."

He kisses her on the cheek and hugs her again, winking at me behind her back. I shake my head at him.

"Leed is so much nicer than I realized," she murmurs to me as we drive over to pick up Darius.

"Gonna switch your favorite rockstar again, woman?" I tease her. "Damn, even fangirls are more loyal than you."

"Shut-up."

"Make me."

"I could, but that would violate our agreement," she shoots back coolly.

I pretend to scroll my phone nonchalantly. "Yeah, I guess that's true. Your tongue in my mouth would definitely violate non-escalation."

She giggles. It sounds so fucking sweet. She masters her expression.

"Stop flirting."

"Make me," I respond.

She gives me a fake exasperated sigh and tries to bite back her grin. "This feels like we are going in circles."

"Mmmmm-hmmmmm. I'm down to cut the games and get down to business, but you seem to like this dance," I say mildly.

She grips the steering wheel, but she can't hide her smile from me. She turns up the car stereo, like that is gonna stop me teasing her. I pull up my subscription music app and change the song.

To a relatively new cover of an old dance hit: Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover.

That gets the sexy snorty laugh.

"Stop!" she laughs. "I'm serious."

Okay," I tell her and switch the song to Sorry Not Sorry.

She slaps me on the pec and I grab her hand. She lets me hold for a few seconds, before she reluctantly tries to pull away.

"Come on, Jaz. You just broke the rules by whacking me," I rub my thumb over hers. "Can we amend the rules to allow for holding hands? It's a not even a move. It's just...nice."

It absolutely kills me, the way she bites her lip while she's thinking about it. "How about...just in the car? When we are alone?"

"Fantastic. Now tell me, what else can we do in the car when are alone?"

"Bodie!!!!"

I bust out laughing. "I'm just kidding, girl." I play with her hand, uncurling her fingers with mine, pressing our fingertips together, then folding them back together.  "Honestly, I'm too fucking wrecked to even negotiate for anything else. I could probably sleep for about six weeks"

"It's been a very long and dramatic day," she agrees, squeezing my hand. "You need less people and more normal than this."

I don't tell her that today has been a quiet day, in comparison to a day in the life of a rock star. I'm gonna give Marley what she wants. I'm going to dive into serenity with her.

Routine.

Domestic perfection.

I'm going to get strong in every way she wants me to.

I'm going to make the situation with Daemon and the Turners stable, no matter what I have to do to achieve that stability.

And when I'm strong, and she feels secure—I'm going to rock her world, in all the good ways.

Thoughts? Is Darius ready for the big time? Is Leed going to be able to keep this secret? Are Bodie and Marley going to be able to keep their hands of each other?