28. Brixton

Chapter 28

Brixton

I manage a smile when James finishes playing one of his favorite Sin City song, Invisible Connection . When I wrote it after Davis died, I was angry. Devastated. And the lyrics reflect my thoughts on the evil in the connections between people who are just dark clouds over you, keeping you down when you’re trying to pick yourself up after a fall.

Now that I really listen to the words, I realize that it was actually a cry for help. That I did crave that lost connection and felt suspicious of everyone around me who tried to ease into my life, that they didn’t really want to connect, they wanted something else from me.

Fame, influence, money.

Anything other than what I really needed.

I’ve felt that way for two years.

It took that long for me to recognize someone doing something selfless to help me, not because he needed anything in return, but because he is just genuinely a good person.

And now the song makes my heart clench, not only because of what it meant to me but because it might mean the same thing to James. He’s a good kid who deserves to have good people around him, people who appreciate him and his talent, who want to support him, who need to understand that if they fuck things up now, it’ll damage him for the future.

I’ve learned this harsh lesson recently, and while I might not be able to fix myself, maybe I can help fix something else.

I rub my temples, but it doesn’t do much to ease the ache, not in my head and definitely not in my heart.

“Last night was so much fun,” James says, packing his guitar into the case. “I’d never been to a football game before.”

“I’m glad you had a good time, kid.” I grin at him and sit back in the chair.

“Do you think Sam’s going to be okay?” He frowns at me and adjusts his glasses. “I mean, he got taken out of the game. That’s bad, right?”

After Jack and his parents showed up in the team exam room, I backed off, not wanting to get in the way. Jack made it very clear that he’d be staying with Sam and there was nothing in the press about his injury. I do know from Bryce he was released, though. Turns out it was just a really bad sprain, not a tear, which I’m sure made everyone let out a huge sigh of relief. And while I want to see him more than anything, I won’t interfere. If Jack is what he wants, and Christ knows, the guy is stable as a fucking rock, then I walk. Sam needs that. Deserves it.

Me, on the other hand?

Yeah, I’m about as stable as a tropical storm.

And everyone knows it.

“I think he’ll be okay in a few weeks to play again. There wasn’t any serious damage to his knee.”

“That’s good. I was reading up on his past seasons and how he’s become one of the best tight ends in the league. And now that Oakland is headed for the playoffs, they need him. ”

I grin. “So you are into sports, after all.”

James shrugs and looks over at the group of kids running plays down one of the gym floors to our left. “I never really had anyone talk to me about sports. Not like my dad watches with me. He usually goes to the bar and drinks his face off instead. Then he comes home and lays into me for my music.” He pauses, a wistful look on his face. “I’d really like to learn more. Maybe play.”

“You’re in the right place, bud. Why don’t you go hang out with those guys for a little while? I’ll keep an eye out for your dad.”

His eyes light up and he runs off to the gym. He stays back from the group at first, watching the plays, his eyes traveling up and down the length of the gym. But then one of the coaches pulls him in, bends his head down to say something, and points to a few of the guys. James nods, his forehead creased with concentration.

I settle back in the chair and glance at my watch.

My meeting with the label is in less than an hour.

Drumming my fingertips on the arm of the chair, I let my mind wander back to Sam and the last words I spoke to him last night. I can’t shake the sensations that bubble up deep inside of me when I remember his fingers squeezing mine.

He didn’t want to let go, even though everyone knew he should.

Part of me wished he didn’t.

The other part of me is grateful he did.

Because what the hell can I really offer the guy?

I narrow my eyes as a familiar figure walks toward the glass door. James’s dad. Anger immediately replaces all of the other emotions I’ve been battling. His head is down and he’s peering at his phone. It’s rare that he comes inside to get James. He usually just loiters outside, like he can’t be bothered to talk to the people spending time with his kid.

I shoot up out of the chair and stalk toward the door, furious at how he’s abandoned his kid.

Allie would say I’m projecting and she may be right.

This dipshit has the chance to make things better between him and his son. Maybe he’s not interested, maybe he’s just too heartbroken to get past the trauma.

But either way, he needs to know the damage he’s doing and that the effects will be the forever kind if he doesn’t fix shit now, when he has the chance.

When his son needs him the most.

I shove the glass door open and walk out onto the sidewalk. “You’re James’s dad, yeah?”

He looks up, surprised. Then recognition flickers in his eyes. “Uh, yeah. And you’re?—”

I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter who I am. I came out to let you know that I’ve worked with him every day, teaching him guitar because that’s what gets him excited. What makes him happy.” I clench my fists. “What makes him feel closer to his mom.”

The guy’s face drains of all color. Then, after a few seconds, his eyes darken and his lips twist like he wants to punch me.

Get in fucking line, dick.

“I didn’t know that. I didn’t bring him here to work on music shit. I did it so he could learn how to play a sport. How he can find a way to connect with kids his own age and not hole himself up in his room every day and night. He needs friends. A life.”

“No.” I’m practically seething now, heat rising in my chest like a spurt of magma ready to spew from my lips. “He needs his father. He told me about losing his mom, how you’ve written him off and shut him out. He’s hurting, too. And as his dad, it’s your job to help him pick up the pieces.”

The guy bristles and pulls himself up to his full height, puffing out his chest. “I don’t care that you’re a famous rock star. Don’t you dare tell me how to handle my family matters. You don’t know what we’ve been through.”

I nod. “You’re right. I don’t. My mom died when I was born, so I never knew her. Can’t imagine how much pain James is in, dealing with that loss. But I know how it feels to be cut out by your dad, the one who’s supposed to take care of you no matter what. It fucking sucks. And it makes you question your worth because if your father doesn’t want to be bothered with you, why would anyone else?”

The guy’s jaw drops. He doesn’t speak, just stares at me.

“James is a great kid. He’s a talented kid. And if you spent some time with him, you’d see it, too. Ask yourself this question. How would your wife feel if she knew how much James was hurting and that you weren’t doing your job as his dad to help?”

A long pause follows. “I…I…it’s too much,” he finally says, his voice cracking. “If I stay away, I can hold it together. I can’t be his rock. Every time I hear him play her guitar, I near crumble. I know I’m letting him down. Her, too. But I just don’t know how to handle it. She was…everything.”

“You still have a hell of a lot. Help each other. Give him the support he needs. Let him do that for you.” I step back, the cool afternoon breeze prickling my skin. “He’s in one of the gyms right now running football plays. You should go in there and watch. I bet he’d like it.”

The guy slowly nods and looks past me into the building. He bites down on his lower lip, takes a deep breath, and his lips slowly lift.

“Thanks. ”

Then he disappears inside.

I square my shoulders and head for my rental.

Looks like I can be a do-gooder, too.

I lean forward onto the steering wheel, a deep sigh shuddering my chest.

I bet Sam would be proud.

“We’re here to talk about the future of Sin City.” Anthony Reece, one of the executives at the label, glowers at me. “You’ve put the band, as well as the label, in a very poor light as a result of your recent actions.”

“Yes, I know that.”

Ben sits next to me, tapping his pen against his leg the way he always does when he’s anxious. Tyler is here, too, since he works for the label.

Anthony thumbs through some papers on his desk. “I have a pile of printed articles from the past week commenting on your mental and emotional stability, your insolence, your violent tendencies, and your public displays of affection with Sam Hartley. You’ve been offensive and have blatantly ignored simple instructions for how to handle the situations you’ve single-handedly created.”

“It’s true,” I say. “I’ve been all those things.”

Anthony steeples his fingers and leans forward. “At least we’re all on the same page. Now, the big question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“Anthony, I understand the trouble that’s been caused but Brixton has been working hard to reverse the public opinion,” Ben pipes in. “He’s been working at Play It Forward, an organization that provides after-school sports activities for disadvantaged and troubled kids. He’s made an impact with the team there. He’s chosen to stay here in Oakland to spend time with the kids and give of himself.”

“I didn’t invite any lawyers to this meeting. If you have a question, then ask it,” Anthony says gruffly.

Ben nods. “Okay. Isn’t it fair that he gets another chance? Especially when he’s trying to fix the situation?”

Anthony turns his glare back on me. “You blasted your bandmates. They want to replace you.”

“Even Lane?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Tyler hangs his head and I don’t even need to hear Anthony’s response to know he’s in the same camp as Dak and Aiden.

I swallow hard. Truth be told, it hurts more to know that my oldest friend wants to trade me than me losing my front man status.

“Look, I understand if they want to move forward without me. I screwed them over because my head was a mess. It’s clearer now. And no matter what happens, I want to keep giving back because it feels good.”

I wiggle my toes in my sneakers. They’re gonna love it or hate it but either way, I’m doing it.

“I’ve got an idea. What if I worked with the label to schedule appearances by artists in the area who’d visit the local hospitals? I have a…friend who works at Mercy and he says that the kids in the pediatric cardiology floor would love musical visits. It wouldn’t be like a scheduled concert, just surprise visits to brighten kids’ days when they’re struggling to smile.” I look from Tyler to Anthony and then Ben.

They all look at me like I have a dick growing out of my forehead.

Anthony speaks first. “You came up with that?”

“Yeah. The other night,” I say. “I know there are things we need to talk about, security details, crowd control in case word got out. But it’s all manageable and for a great cause.” I shift in my chair. “Okay, you guys have to say something. Does the idea suck? Because if you don’t like it, fine. I’ll just do it myself. I just thought it would be a good reflection on the label, too.”

After another long minute passes, I continue, “Okay, so I guess I’ll take that as a?—”

Anthony waves his hand in front of me. “No, no, no. It is most definitely a yes. I think there are certainly challenges we need to address but overall…” He grins. “Great idea.”

“And just so you know, I’m not doing it to win you guys over. This is something I feel strongly about. Something that can help the kids cope with their diagnoses.” I shrug. “And if the guys decide to kick me out, then I’ll perform as a solo act.”

Tyler chuckles. Even Ben cracks a smile, and he’d pretty much been holding his breath, waiting for Anthony to speak.

We go through logistics. I figure I should be the first to deliver my own private concert. Be the trailblazer. Anthony said he’ll talk to the managers of his other bands to see who’d be interested. The meeting ends and everyone is excited.

I realize then that the label is giving me another chance.

But that doesn’t mean my family will welcome me back with open arms.

Maybe Dak and Aiden kept their distance because it had been a long time since we acted like family.

That’s on me.

And now that I know how to fix my image, maybe I can fix my band.

We walk into the hallway. The weight I’d been carrying around for so long actually feels a little bit lighter even though I’m so far from fixing everything in my life.

Ben and Tyler pull out their phones and start walking toward the elevator, but I just take a minute and wander over to the set of windows overlooking the San Francisco Bay. I can’t smell the salty air, but I take a deep breath, the same sense of peace and tranquility washing over me.

The hairs on the back of my neck spring up, and somehow, some way, I know Davis is close.

And smiling.

“So I heard you didn’t get fired.”

I jump and twist around. “Lane, what are you doing here? I figured you’d gone back to LA.”

He folds his arms over his Black Sabbath t-shirt, his stubbled jaw tight. “And let other people decide the future of Sin City? Are you fucking nuts?”

“Well, from what I heard, you already decided.” I smirk. “Right?”

Lane drops his arms and sticks his hands into his jeans pockets, pacing back and forth in front of the windows. “Dak and Aiden are pissed. And they have a right to be.”

“You’re not?” I run one finger down the front of the clear glass.

“I’m fucking livid with you, bro. Mainly because that’s how I think of you—like my brother—and to know you don’t feel the same way hurts.”

I lean my head against the glass. “I fucked up so badly. I said shit I didn’t mean. I did shit that was bad for the band. Bad for our friendship. I’m a mess and I know it. But I’m trying to make myself better. And I need my family for support.”

“You always had us,” Lane says, his brows knitted together. “Especially me. But you pushed away so hard for so long. The guys felt like you were rejecting their help. And I felt like I was losing my brother. You can’t apologize in one breath and just hope it all gets better. It takes work, man.”

“I don’t expect it to be that easy,” I say.

“Oh, trust me. There’s gonna be a lot of work for you to do. A lot of groveling drinks to buy. A new drum set. Maybe even a new car.” Lane grins and holds out his hand.

I pull him in for a hug and clap him hard on the back.

“I’m sorry. And not just because I don’t want you guys to kick my ass to the curb.”

He chuckles. “Aiden and Dak will be harder sells than me. They’re gonna want a lot more out of you, too. This whole meltdown two years in the making is gonna be hella expensive for you.”

“Fuck, it’s only money. I just want my family back.”

Lane nods, his smile fading. “Is that all you want, B?”

I shrug and look back at the Bay.

“Because I heard from Bryce that Jack was all over Sam at the hospital and has been by his side nonstop.”

“They have a history. And if Jack has anything to say about it, they’ll have a future, too,” I say through the lump lodged in my throat.

“But what if that’s not what Sam wants?”

I turn to look at Lane. “It’s what he needs. Everyone knows it. Jack’s the safer choice for him.”

“I think you’re wrong. I think Jack is clinging hard because he’s scared of losing.” He steps closer, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. “Scared that what Sam really wants isn’t him but… you. ”