Chapter 58: Drummer Boys Regret Partying

Bodie, Next Day

"Come on, come on, let's go!" I yell to the hoard still in my LA house as Pitbull blares on the speakers. "She's gonna be here in like two hours and none of you fuckers are taking this seriously!"

The five women and one man from the emergency cleaning crew all turn from their frantic mopping and scrubbing and give me looks that could kill.

"Not you guys," I bite my knuckle and hold out a peacemaking hand. "You guys are doing a great job. I appreciate your hard work so much. And that bonus is in the bank for you. I'm talking about my friends."

I gesture around at SCIC. Forty people crashed here and are still scattered around the house and outdoor living space. Trace is eating cereal and looking growly- hungover by the firepit in the outdoor area. Adam is quietly strumming a guitar on the stairs in the foyer, and I hear Bella experimenting with the melody of a hook. Kat and Mac are sitting atop of the kitchen bar, taking morning-after selfies and bemoaning how awful they look, even though most chics would sell their souls to Satan to look like them even right now.

Riley is passed out on the couch. I look at his hand, hanging off the couch, his knuckles raw, his fingers swollen. Adam's right hook was nothing compared to Riley when Avery Thompson showed up uninvited last night.

Surprisingly, a brawl was a good ice-breaker for them.We let them go at it for a while before we pulled them apart. When it was done, Riley got wasted and Row consoled him. Avery seemed to think it had settled things between them and we would move forward with business as planned.

It ain't settled by a long shot, but he can think that. I saw the pure glee in his eyes when he goaded Riley. His mean streak? Let's me know, I'm making the right call to ruin him.

Row—shit I didn't even know she was still here—is in a slip dress and a man's jacket. She's shoveling ice into a bowl from the icemaker at the outside bar. She walks without expression to Riley's passed out form, stacks books beneath the bowl of ice, gently cradles Riley's swollen hand in it, then rises, grabbing her keys from the basket on the coffee table.

She looks at me with tired, heavily make-upped eyes as she pulls her gray hair into a messy bun.

"You throw great parties, Bodie. It sucks that you can't party yourself anymore."

"I can party, baby," I give her a goodbye hug. "But I need my woman at the party to hit that high, now."

She snickers but it fades quickly as she examines Riley. "Take care of him," she says. "I think he might have alcohol poisoning. I've never seen him drink that much."

"I kinda got my hands full with that lunatic dancing on my dining room table. You could stay and take care of Riley yourself," I suggest.

She shakes her head."He doesn't want me. He wants a dead girl," she says. "I just...look like her."

She doesn't. Now that I've seen the picture of Priscilla, I can say that for sure. Both beautiful but completely different, except for their emo vibe. Row is not just a body double for Priscilla.

"Jesus, Row that is not true. He's killing himself, tryna lay the world at Strut's feet, and it ain't because of her. It's because he loves you. He wants you to have everything you want, even if it costs him the thing he loves most." I tilt her pretty chin up and wink at her.

But even as I say it, I'm not sure. I think about TJ. He loves Shay, but if he could have had Marley? There never woulda been a Shay.

Love is so fucking complicated sometimes. All I know is I got it right the first time, and I am so fucking grateful that I got a second chance.

"You're a better liar than Leed and Trace," Row's voice is hoarse as she smiles up at me. "When you say shit like that, I almost believe it." She kisses my cheek. "Looking forward to meeting this chic that tamed Soundcrush's biggest horndog. So are the rest of the girls..." she says suggestively.

Ah. Yeah. Okay. So when Matt del Marco forbade me from tappin' any of the Strut Ladies?

Well, we all know. I hate to be told what to do. And so do those Strut girls. When Matt put the kibosh on us, they were linin' up at my door, blunting asking for a friendly fuck. And I couldn't exactly reject new friends.

Nah, I had to welcome them to SCIC proper-like.

I did refrain from gettin' with Row, though. Out of respect for Riley who was tryna' get something started.

Of the other three, Chili was the one I actually vibed with most, but didn't actually expect to get romantic with, because I was kind of getting the idea that she was into girls. But I guess Sadie and Harper talked about me, and she was curious. She jumped me about a week before Arabella showed up on our tour last year. Said I was the first guy she'd been with since high school and thanked me for helping her realize she was really attracted more to a person than a gender.

That's me. Always happy to help a girl out.

Which reminds me. I'm wondering where Bells is with all that. She certainly seemed to be feelin' Sawyer last night when I introduced them. Probably because he's a damn Adam doppleganger. Then again, I saw her and Chili talkin' and I thought all the Strut girls hated her.

"Let's not mention to my girlfriend that I got with 3/4 of Strut, okay?" I whisper to Row. "She has enough trouble with Arabella..."

"Hey, you're the one bringing it up. We chics are taking that to the grave, because we like you and the Dicktator will kill you..." Row murmurs.

Riley stirs and Row slides away before he wakes, giving me a silent wave good-bye.

"She left?"

"With your jacket," I joke.

"She left with more of me on her than my jacket. But she left without a fucking good-bye. Again." he murmurs.

"You could have not acted like a douche and pretended you were passed just now. You could have asked her to breakfast. I bet she would have gone with you."

He rolls over, cradles his hand, and goes back to sleep.

I stroll into the kitchen.

"For the love of god, people, can you get up out of my house!?!?" I yell to the rest of them.

"No, we are waiting on Marley," Mac says, sliding languidly down to a heap on the bar and flicking a random tortilla chip that is in her line of sight.

"Don't you have a baby to take care of?" I tease her.

"She's with the Rev and MJ. First time they've keep her for a whole week. I'm flying home next weekend and bringing her and the nannies back out. We wanted to ease back into LA."

"You wanted to party like a rock star," Kat chuckles.

"That too. I'm a mother, I'm not dead," Mac yawns and covers her face with a dishtowel. "Even though I kind of feel like it right now. Preacher!" she yells. "I need a hangover cure and Riley is passed out!"

"Ask Sawyer or Penelope...we're onto something here..." Adam yells back. Mac sits up, evil in her eyes.

I grab her head and put my forehead to hers. "Come on now, Priestess, remember the deal, here? You're gonna help me by not killing the only signed artist on my new label, and your husband is gonna produce her album..."

"Then make me a goddamn hangover cure."

"I've got it," Penelope says cheerfully as she breezes in, dropping a trashbag and reaching for the blender.

"You don't have to clean, Pen," I tell her. I feel bad. The girl works all the time. She's with Andy now, so she's slowly merging across that line from employee with regular hours and duties to SCIC that pitches in to do whatever.

"I don't mind," she says brightly.

I walk out to the pool and yell without heat to all the roadies and their randoms to get the hell up on out of my house. They all crashed in the pool house and now they are drinking again, floating around in the pool like it's a weekend party.

"Nah man. We gotta meet the boss lady," Andy calls from the door of the pool house. Like Pen, he's cleaning the rather large pool house and outdoor living space—alternating the work crew by barking at a couple of roadies at a time to pitch in, then releasing them back into the pool.

I rub my head in frustration. "Do any of you understand that this is not a party shack but a home now. My home? Her home? Our...I mean...her kid's home, maybe? Eventually? And this is the first time she's stepping foot in the door?"

"Yeah, Bodie. We all get that," Trace says with his killer pretty boy smile. Apparently Fruit Loops have improved his mood. "That's why we are all still here. She deserves to know what she's in for. This ain't your Atlanta life."

"Nope. This is LA! All we wanna do is have some fun." Leed sings songs, surprisingly on key, despite the fact that he's drunk off his ass and bellowing Sheryl Crow lyrics over Pit Bull.

It's time to free his dance captive. Leed has to release Jade, because I need her now.

I stalk into the dining room. Leed is salsa dancing barefoot on the table with Jade-- a sexy Latina in a black tank top and a gauzy aqua skirt that goes from short to long. When she got here yesterday afternoon, her hair was all tucked up in a blousy bun, but Leed is utterly destroying her hairstyle, with his hands all up in it as he moves with her. I notice the Lion isn't putting his hands much elsewhere, despite the evocative dance.

Poor bastard, he really is in love with Sunny, but doing his best not to let the loss of her kill him.

I jump up on the table and dance behind Jade, doing my best to imitate their perfectly synced steps.

"I'm cutting in, Big Dawg. I need her. Real bad."

The girl twirls, her skirt a flash like the ocean beneath us.

She puts one hand on my shoulder and one hand on my cheek. "Bodie. Bodes. Butters. I can't help you right now. I came over here to work yesterday—" she gestures to the boxes and boxes of deliveries piled all around the dining room and foyer. "But you, silly boy," she pats my cheek, "threw a house party in the middle of my home restyle. Now what am I supposed to do? Decorate on top of trash?"

Jade is the SCIC interior designer. Where Leed found her, I don't know. Maybe in a salsa club. But she helped him style his house and Mac's condo. Then Trace, being competitive, hired her to do his, too. Adam's sisters ordered most of the stuff for his house, but it was Jade who put it together and made it a home. I've been meaning to have her decorate mine for ages, but whenever I'm in LA and thinking about it...the parties get in the way.

Jade is sort of a mystery to us. She fits into SCIC perfectly, but she comes and goes. Sometimes we see her, sometimes we don't. I wonder if she has a secret roster of celebrity clients, because she's very at ease with us crazy rock stars. Not impressed by us at all.

Well, except for Leed. She's a little googley-eyed over him, but most women are.

"Jade," I take her hands and go down on one knee. "Please. Please. I'm begging you. At least...throw up some drapes and toss some pillows around upstairs in the master. So when Marley gets here, she has a...haven, from this insanity. Please?"

"No way am I going up there and opening bedroom doors. Who knows what I might walk in on?" She's still dancing. She twirls away from me and returns to Leed. To be fair, he's a much better dancer than me. He takes her hands, positioning them in formal positions and they start to merengue or some shit.

I sit cross-legged on the end of the table and fight the urge to scream or cry. Adam looks up from his place on the stairs.

"You okay there, Bodes?"

"No, Adam. No, I am not. Marley is going to be here in two hours and this is not how I thought it would go. I thought you would all be long gone, the house would be cleaned and Jade would be at least halfway done and leaving Marley room for input—"

"Come on man. You didn't really think that," Leed laughs. "You ain't ever had a party here that didn't go for days."

"I never had a live-in girlfriend before, either!" I yell at him.

"Okay, calm down, Bodes," Adam laughs. "Marley will be cool." He looks at Arabella, who is barely dressed as usual. "Well, maybe we should clear out..."

Bells rolls her eyes at him. "You mean maybe I should clear out."

"Yeah, that's what I mean," Adam grins at her.

"Fine," she stands up in a hurt huff, and I feel sorry for her.

"Buh-bye Bells!" Mac yells from the kitchen.

"You should go, Chica," Jade says, with a wink. Apparently Jade is up to speed on SCIC gossip. Leed has probably running his trap while they danced and drank all night.

Sawyer appears with an offer to give Bells a ride and I feel accomplished for a second, but then desperate when I realize I've only managed to clear the house of two hangers-on, and that one of those—Sawyer, just skated out on helping with the clean-up.

I watch Adam wander into the kitchen, haul Kat off the bar by the waist and crawl up there, lying atop Mac. At first it seems like they are just murmuring sadly about their mutual hangovers, but within seconds they start kissing.

I slide off the table and start to pace around it. Marley is going to come home to Leed and Jade dancing on the dining room table and Mac and Adam making out on the kitchen bar.

All I can think right now?

Sobriety fucking sucks.

If I were as hungover as all these fuckers, I wouldn't be having an anxiety attack right now.

Ok, ok, ok. Control the things you can, right?

"Hey, Jade. Make you a deal. I'll go clear out the upstairs of any lurking lovebirds and I'll carry the boxes you need up there," I say.

She gives me a raised eyebrow but it falls in pity at my plight. "I feel bad for you, even though this is your fault. Okay, let's make a nice space for tu reina..."

"Yeah, she's my queen alright. She's about to be the Queen of CrazyTown..." I mutter, still pacing.

She claps her hands. "¡Darse prisa!"

I think that means hurry up, so I bust it up the stairs. Surprisingly, there are no naked people, but to my complete shock, in one of the extra bedrooms, I find Marcy in a semistate of dress, slumbering with Jax from Skid Marcs.

I close the door. Damn. I know he's separated from his wife. I wonder if this is a cause or an effect.

I can't think about that. I can only think about hustling Jade up the stairs and into the master and helping her hang drapes and pictures and fabrics over everything. I roll out a new rug while she dances around with candles and decorative trunks and pottery. She's a fiesty girl and in forty-five minutes she transforms the entire suite into a serene oasis that is neutral but well balanced. Most everything is shades of beige but her gray accents and patterned rug highlight the drama of the dark furniture, hung bathroom doors and ceiling beams.

"It looks amazing," I say. It really does.

"It wasn't hard to improve upon," she teases me as she stuffs empty packaging in empty boxes and tosses them off the back balcony to a roadie. "There was nothing in here but stacks of books and a floor lamp that I bet came from your college dorm."

"It was from our rental house, but yeah," I grin.

"Do me one more favor, please?" I ask.

"What's that, babe?" She bobs her head to the latin club music still thumping downstairs.

"Keep dancing with Leed? He's almost sober..."

She puts the back of her hand to her forehead, like she's swooning, "That's a terrible favor you ask..."

She prepares to dance out of the room. "Hey, Jade...he has a girlfriend, you know. They're just on a break...I know he wants her back..."

"I know. He cried in his tequila all night. But he's wonderful dancer..." she winks as she flips her skirt and kicks up a bare heel on the way out of the room.

I spend the next half hour cleaning up the kitchen with Penelope. Chics hate messy kitchens, I know that much. Marley keeps the Atlanta kitchen spotless.

"It looks good," Penelope crosses her arms. "Well, we don't know what the bar under Madam looks like."

"It's sticky," Mac mumbles from underneath Adam. I think he's asleep, but he's not. He laughs into her hair at that. "It was like that before I got here...I swear."

"She's here!" Leed yells, bending down from the dining room table to look out through the front windows. Then he resumes his dance with Jade.

I meet the hired car in the large circular drive. Ariadne hops out first, putting some paperwork in a leather portfolio. "It's official," she grins. "Meet your new road manager."

The Marley that steps from the car surprises me.

I've seen the casual mom, and I've seen the sexy mama, but I guess I haven't really had the pleasure of seeing the professional.

And it a pleasure.

Marley sports a pair of tight dusty rose ankle pants with matching heels and quilted purse. She's wearing a blousy black top that has a strip of a collar around her throat, but has a cut out that vees deeply into her ample cleavage. She's got neutral lips, shiny locks, and dark round sunglasses.

Yeah, Marley's gonna fit into Soundcrush just fine.

I don't look nearly as scene as she does right now. Hell, I'm wearing cargo shorts.

She doesn't seem to mind. She takes off the glasses and I see her exhale very slowly as she checks me over from head to toe.

I know women. That's how I know the look she is giving me is absolutely sex starved.

"Hey." She practically purrs her greeting.

I give her my most deadly chin tip. "Hey back at ya."

She giggles at the sexy I lay on her.

"Not so angry with me anymore?"

"Not so much, no. I really missed you these last few days," she confesses.

I reach out to touch her fucking irresistible lips, smearing just slightly, marring her perfection, making her mine.

Damn. We can't have sex for a week, thanks to the damn trich diagnosis. Her test was negative but the doctor said it could be a false result because her exposure was so recent. He prescribed treatment for her as well. We have to wait for the antibiotics to work or we might reinfect each other.

The way Jasmine is looking at me right now? I think she's had her time to process and she's not going to be any happier about the wait than I am.

"Jaz, I missed you so much I had to throw a house party to keep from throwing myself off the balcony into the pool back there" I grin throwing a hand behind me.

Her eyes flit to the expansive, white stucco C-shaped home with a terracotta roof and no pleasing symmetry.Just blocks stacked on blocks and a long narrow entranceway that looks out over a small front rock garden on its way to the deeply recessed entry door.

It's completely different from our charming, traditional Craftsmen in Old Fourth Ward.

"Wow," she says. "It's huge."

"It's nicer inside," I say. "I know it has no front lawn...or front door..."

She takes my arm and Ariadne steps back in the car to make a call. I walk us backward in the large circular brick drive, so she can get the full view.

She looks over every line of the house, every railing, every plant."I like it. I like the way the landscaping near the entrance is part of the structure. I like the roof. Very California."

"You really like it?"

"Yes," she says, earnest and emphatic.

"I'm fucking glad to hear that, because this has to be our West Coast digs for right now. I'd love to let you choose a place but with all of our other...endeavors...I'm a little too strapped for new mansion shopping at the moment. We do have a decorator. She will work with you. Make it feel like yours. If something in the layout doesn't suit...if you want serious remodeling...I probably need to look at some numbers and figure out what's possible without liquidating some more assets..."

She shakes her head indulgently at me. "Don't be stupid. I don't need a thing in that house except you. And Darius, eventually."

"You say that, but the refrigerator is pretty old," I tease her.

Movement in one of the windows catches her eye. "Is Leed...table dancing?"

"Yeah. I could really use your help with him. He's out of control."

I gesture toward the door and we walk down the long entranceway arm and arm.

"Nice party?" she asks lightly.

"Yeah. But uhhmmm...it's still kind of...going on."

"Really?" She looks around. The front looks deserted because everybody Ubered here.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. It's mostly just SCIC now, but I can't get the fuckers to leave. They are waiting to greet the new Road Boss."

"I see."

Her expression is focused on the walk in front of us. I'm not sure if she's irritated or nervous.

"I stayed sober."

She looks up quickly, all smiles now. "Oh, baby, I wasn't worried." She squeezes my arm. I pull her around in front of me, getting my arms around her. I drink her in, my eyes falling longingly into her cleavage.I inhale her, because that's about all I can do for a week.

"Goddamn you smell good, Jasmine. And you look perfect. They are all going to love you when they get to know you."

"They don't have to love me. They need to respect my abilities and trust me to literally keep the show on the road. And I have no idea how to do that yet."

"You're brilliant and organized and thick-skinned and you know how to get people to be the best versions of themselves. Not to mention you are...kinda bossy. You can definitely do this job."

"I know I can," she agrees. "But I want to do it well from the start." She searches my face. "I know Riley and Boss Hawkins will train me, but I'm also not too proud to ask you for help."

"Marley I don't want to tell you how to run your job..."

"I need you too, at first. You're incredibly smart and I need your help, Bodie. I need you to teach me everything you know about setting a show, about touring logistics, and whatever you know about the business responsibilities of a road manager. And I need you to do it in the next three weeks before the Grammy's. Because after that, we hit the ground running with tour rehearsal...and I refuse to look clueless in front of the industry's most experienced tour manager. I won't fail you or your band. "

She's beautifully calm, but deadly serious. Her surety eases my anxiety. Never in a million years would I have expected life to bring us to this place a year ago.

The girl I thought I would always regret is now my life.

We are lovers, parents, and business partners. My career is her career now.

"I'm all yours. I will teach you everything I know. You can pick my brain until you exhaust me. But first...I need to apologize for what you are about to see. This is not the way I wanted to welcome you home for the first time. It's...kind of crazy in there."

She slides her hands up my neck and around the back of my head, drawing me down to kiss her lightly. "It's Soundcrush in there. Crazy is our brand, isn't it?"

She opens the door and strides in.