Smolder (The Road to Rocktoberfest 2024)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Skyler

Friday morning, after the Thursday night concert, I stepped off the plane in San Jose. Regal was still in the hospital. After speaking with the school district administrator, I stayed in West Peoria until after the end-of-year concert and skipped the last week of school to go check on Regal, not that I thought he deserved my care or concern after all the crap he’d pulled.

I’d tried like heck to block the idea out of my mind that my mother was part of a ménage à trois because I didn’t want to know anything of the sort. Why was my mother so set on telling me the dirty details of what happened behind closed doors?

I walked out of security to see a man—a very handsome man—holding a tablet with my name on the screen. I approached and offered a smile. “I’m Skyler Ashe.”

The driver was unbelievably handsome in a familiar way, but I hadn’t spent time in California since before I went to college in Carbondale, Illinois. He was either a model or a celebrity moonlighting as a driver.

He took my large duffel. “Do you have a checked bag?”

“I, uh… No. I only brought this. Should I have brought more?” I’d brought enough clean clothes for five days because I wasn’t planning to stay longer. I had a summer job working at Mindy’s Botanicals in Peoria. It paid the bills, and I loved plants. I’d been fortunate to land the spot and planned to return by my start date.

The driver shrugged and led us out the door to the parking garage. He opened the back door of a black Suburban SUV, and I got inside while he tossed my duffel in the cargo area. He hopped into the front seat and started the vehicle, heading out of the parking garage of San Jose Mineta International Airport.

He turned onto I-280 and headed west toward Cupertino, where Mom lived, or so I thought. “You drive this route a lot?” There was no music to get lost in, and I had no idea who the guy was in the front seat. I was nervous, unsure of how I would handle myself when we arrived at my mother’s place.

“No.”

Obviously, that wasn’t a conversation opener. “I’m Skyler.”

His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, uh, I got that from when you told me inside the airport. Plus, I can read.” He lifted the tablet and shook it before dropping it back into the passenger seat.

I decided not to attempt to talk to him, so I slid in my wireless earbuds and listened to some rock music, my all-time favorite genre. My dad’s band, From the Ashes, was secretly my first pick for a sing-along. I used to listen to their music all the time because my father was never around, even after the band stopped being invited on big tours. Their music was dated, or so critics always said. Though I supposed they’d be considered vintage now.

From the Ashes were always trying to find their way back into the spotlight, playing county fairs and some small clubs on the West Coast during the summer to relive their youth. As far as I could tell from infrequent conversations with my little brother, River, they were only playing throwback concerts, which I guessed wasn’t flattering in their opinions.

I never told my father how much I loved the band because we didn’t talk much after he left us for Jeanne, but I knew every beat, accent, rimshot, and attack of every song From the Ashes ever played.

My old drum kit from my youth was in storage at my mom’s place. As a teenager, when Regal backed out of something he and I were supposed to do, I’d go into the garage where Mom let me have my kit, turn on one of From the Ashes five albums, and beat the heck out of those skins with thoughts of my father’s head being the pedal drum.

Every cymbal crash, choke, swell, and bark helped relieve the anger from my father’s abandonment, but it was never completely gone. I might have been a huge fan of From the Ashes, but I wasn’t a fan of Regal Ashe in the least.

I also mimicked every tone and note that came out of his mouth, though not always as well as my father. When I was having a bad day, I’d turn on their music and sing as loud as I could while the tears rolled down my teenage cheeks. I’d forgiven him for my own peace of mind, but I darn well hadn’t forgotten any of it.

My favorite From the Ashes song was “‘Bury Me’.” It’d been their first gold record, and Regal swore he wrote it for my mom. Regal should have won an award for his ability to lie while staring into someone’s eyes. He had the capacity to make anyone believe he was being honest while he crossed his fingers behind his back…figuratively.

I was humming “Man for the Job,” one of their last hits, as we turned down my mother’s street, Henderson Lane. At the end of the drive was the animal rescue farm Regal had bought Mom when they got their first record deal. I guessed he believed the animal rescue would keep her busy so she wouldn’t realize he wasn’t sleeping next to her at least five nights a week.

The driver stopped the SUV in front of the white Rambler ranch house with black trim. It was the same as I remembered from my childhood, including the tire swing I fell off and broke my arm when I was seven. There was something to be said about going home.

I braced myself when Mom hurried out of the house because I knew the drill. She’d throw herself into my arms and start crying because I only made the trip to Cupertino twice a year: for her birthday in July and around Christmastime. This trip in mid-May was an anomaly.

“Sky, my sweet boy. I’m so glad you came.” She hugged me, and I hugged her back, happy to have a moment to reconnect before I heard the story of what happened with Regal.

The front screen door slammed, and I glanced in that direction to see my little brother, River, step onto the porch with his mom, Jeanne. They both looked worried, but I didn’t know why. Did they live at the house now? Had Regal talked Mom into taking them in?

“Mom, what’s going on?”

She pulled away and put her hands on my face. “Holy shit, Sky. You get more and more handsome every time I see you. Thank you for coming. Come say hi to Jeanne and your brother.”

I liked River a lot. He was a sweet kid and hadn’t let Regal’s earlier successes or fortune go to his head. He cut the neighbors’ grass for spending money because Regal didn’t give any of us a cent the court didn’t force him to provide.

“Wow, Riv! Look at you.” The kid had grown a foot since I’d seen him a year ago when I visited for Mom’s birthday and she invited him and Jeanne over. He was now taller than me with Regal’s brown hair, while I had Mom’s blonde.

River hugged me, slapping me on the back harder than I expected. “Dude, you’re getting flabby.” He pushed away, popped me on the stomach, and laughed.

“Brat. How’re things going? You decide whether to go to college yet?”

River smirked. “Still weighing my options, bro. You hear this shit about my mom and your mom both fuckin’ Regal?”

“Not in such detail, but I heard something about it. What do you think?”

River shrugged, which was exactly what I’d been doing since I agreed to come to Cupertino. I couldn’t imagine what Mom saw in Regal after all his antics.

“I think it’s bullshit, Sky. Does this guy have a fucking magic dick?”

I chuckled. “God, I hope not. I don’t even like to think about that.”

The driver carried my duffel over and dropped it beside me. “I’ll be taking off now. Good luck.” Without waiting for me to tip him, he returned to the Suburban and left.

“Wow, how the fuck do you know Sandy Kensington?” River had a look on his face I didn’t understand.

“Who?”

“Sandy Kensington. He’s the former defensive tackle for the Chicago Breeze. He retired last year under mysterious circumstances. Rumor has it he was dating the owner’s barely legal daughter. The owner threatened to have him killed unless he disappeared. I saw a post that said the other thing was just a story told by the club to embarrass him.”

I stared at River. “Where do you see this crap? Stop scrolling TikTok and open a book, Riv.”

Was that true? Once River said it, I put the face to a name. I remembered the story on the news about Sanders Kensington, a former fifth-round draft choice from San Francisco, retiring at the end of February from the Chicago Breeze. He’d had a successful career, and there was talk of him turning down a job doing color commentary for Sports News Network.

I barely cared, but several teachers had discussed it at school. I wasn’t a sports guy, but it had stuck with me. Now that I’d seen Sandy Kensington in person, I understood why all the females on staff had been bummed he was retiring. He was gorgeous.

“Grab my duffel and let’s go inside. Is there any food in there?”

River picked up my duffel, and we headed into the house to face whatever fresh hell Regal Ashe had conjured for us.

As I let River in ahead of me, I glanced down the gravel driveway to see the dust hadn’t settled yet from Sandy’s departure. Would there be an opportunity for me to run into Sandy Kensington again? Was a chauffeur job the best he could get after retiring from football?

“He really wants to see you, Sky. Please come with us.” I was in the kitchen with Mom. I was starving, having been up since before dawn, and Mom was trying to talk me into going with her and Jeanne to visit Regal. I was here. What more did they want from me?

“Mom, I highly doubt he wants to see me. He clearly didn’t give a crap about me after River was born, and he didn’t give a crap about River after he started seeing the next woman in line.

“Sky, honey, your father loves you and River. He wouldn’t trade you boys for anything.”

I sat across from her and sipped my coffee. “Mom, I love you, and I know you wish that was true, but I don’t think Regal has given it that much thought. I don’t think he loves anyone but himself and the next notch on his bedpost.”

Mom sighed. “Just come with us. Talk to him, Sky. He paid for your education and made sure you never did without.”

I laughed at her comment. “No, he didn’t. Don’t rewrite history, Mom. I got a scholarship to college in Illinois, and Regal gave me ten grand for expenses until I could find a job in Carbondale. He also told me he wanted me to pay him back, which is why I sent you money every month until my debt was paid. Did you forget that?”

Rewriting history in her mind was how my mother coped, but it didn’t change a damn thing for me.