Smolder (The Road to Rocktoberfest 2024)

4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Sandy

Grocery shopping wasn’t my favorite thing, but Marsh and I were in dire need of sustenance at my place, so I was wandering around my local market when my cell phone rang. I slid it out of my pocket and checked the screen, seeing my brother was calling. “Yeah?”

“Hey, where are you? I got off the phone, and you were gone?”

“I’m at the grocery store so we don’t starve. Anything special you want?” I grabbed a tub of protein powder and tossed it in the cart.

“I need you to take me to Hope Ashe’s farm so I can talk to Skyler. You know where she lives, right?”

I rolled my eyes, though Marsh couldn’t see it. “Yeah, uh, as you know, I dropped him off there very early this morning. What’s up?”

“I’ll explain on the way, and after my meeting, I’ll take you out. We can go food shopping later.”

Oh fuck. I can’t be around that guy again. He scrambled my fucking brain last time!

“Uh, I can give you the address, and you can drive yourself there in that Suburban. I really need to run some other errands.”

Liar!

“Look, I need to talk to you about something important. We can discuss it on the way. Come get me, asshole.” Marsh hung up on me before I could say no again.

I went to the self-checkout and bagged the groceries before carrying them to the car. I put them in the passenger’s seat because the stupid car only had five cubic feet of cargo space. Why the fuck did I think I needed that expensive piece of shit, anyway?

I hurried home and parked in the driveway, carrying the cloth grocery bags inside with me. Marshall rushed into the foyer wearing a suit I didn’t know he’d brought. “What’s with the straight jacket?”

Marsh took the bags. “Go put on something else. I can’t believe you left the house in basketball shorts and a tank top. No wonder you’re still single.”

“Why do I need to change? Who do I gotta impress?” I followed Marsh into the kitchen, where he put away the groceries.

“I need you to look professional because I’ve got a job lined up for you. Go change. I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

Figuring I wouldn’t be able to get out of it and not wanting to listen to him bitch for the rest of his stay, I trudged up the stairs to my bedroom and changed. It was almost five, so traffic was going to be horrible. Marsh didn’t know it, but he was taking me out for a very expensive meal and driving us back home because I was going to order the best tequila that Hi-Life, a fancy steakhouse in San Jose, stocked.

I pulled on a navy suit and a white dress shirt sans tie and put some product in my hair. After slipping on a pair of Ferragamo double monk strap dress shoes, I hurried downstairs. “Ready.”

“You clean up pretty well, big brother. Let’s go.” Marshall grabbed his suit coat and slid his arms into it, adjusting his cuffs as we walked through the house and out the front door.

We got into the car, and I turned to my brother. “Okay, what are you trying to talk me into?” I started the car and waited.

“I told you about the band and the movie deal. Well, Harmon Studio wants the song to be edgier than the original. The band wouldn’t agree to license it to the studio and allow someone to rewrite it and have another band sing it for the movie. They want to do it themselves.” Marsh glanced at his phone and pecked away before he slid it into the breast pocket of his jacket.

“Wait a minute. Are you confused and think I can write music? I’m good with balls, remember?” I merged onto I-280 and hit the gas.

“Not hardly. You couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. Anyway, it seems Skyler Ashe is a musical savant. They need him to rewrite the melody and orchestrate the other parts of the song. Whoever does the soundtrack will use the song’s theme to write the background score for the movie, so it has to be done right. That’s why they need the kid.”

Marsh could have been reciting the preamble to The Constitution for all the attention I was paying. All that kept circling my brain was how gorgeous the blond was and how I’d acted like a real prick to him.

I had no desire to get entangled with anyone. I’d already fucked up my career by letting my dick lead the way. I didn’t want to be stupid again. I had a life to straighten out, and falling for a band teacher from the Midwest wasn’t on my Bingo card.

“Why won’t you come in?” Marsh stood outside the Maserati, and I was about ready to shut the door and leave his ass there.

“I’m not needed for this. You wanted a ride, and I have a podcast I want to listen to while I wait for you. Go do your job. I’ll give you thirty minutes, and then I’m going to get dinner at Hi-Life. You can find your own way there.” I sounded like an asshole, but I needed to get the hell away before that sexy blond walked out and fucked with my common sense again.

“Come on, Sandy. I need the moral support. It’s very important I get this deal made. I need you.”

God, I was a sucker for a guilt trip, and Marshall had learned how to traverse the road from Mom. I picked up my keys and phone and stepped out to follow him. Going inside was against my better judgment, but I wouldn’t be accused of letting Marsh down.

We went up on the front porch, where three dogs, two little goats, and a goddamn chicken greeted us. “What the hell is this? Doctor Doolittle’s house?”

Marshall laughed. “Hope runs a rescue farm, asshole. These animals are so happy to have somewhere safe to be, they won’t hurt your candy ass.”

I wasn’t afraid of the animals, at least until a fucking goose came at me, flapping its wings and squawking. I wasn’t stupid. I pulled Marsh in front of me, and when the goose went after his nuts, I pushed him at the crazy fucking bird.

The front door opened and Skyler Ashe hurried out, waving his arms and chasing the demented thing away. “Matilda, what the heck?”

Skyler grabbed the goose and tossed it into the air at the end of the porch. I was stuck to my spot as I stared at the guy wearing red running shorts and a tank top. I was sure my tongue was hanging out. The fates were mocking me.

He walked over and helped Marshall up. “Sorry about that. She’s usually harmless. Can I help you?”

“I’m Marshall Kensington. I’m the manager for From the Ashes. You’re Skyler, right?” Marshall was too busy dusting off his expensive suit pants to notice Skyler Ashe staring at me. I winked.

“My dad’s in the hospital. Didn’t anyone notify you?” Skyler scowled at me, which made me laugh. He was a fiery little guy. Sadly, that revved my motor.

“I was with your mother when Regal had his surgery. How’s he doing today?” Marshall was much more diplomatic than I’d have been.

Skyler sighed. “He’s supposed to come home in a couple of days. What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to talk to you. You got a few minutes?” Marshall stepped forward and extended his hand. Thankfully, Skyler accepted the handshake.

He turned to me, but I shoved my hands in my pockets. He wasn’t the friendliest guy in the world, and I wasn’t going to get wrapped around the axle to suck up.

“Sure. Come inside. Pay no attention to the snakes.”

“S-Snakes? Are you fucking kidding me?” No goddamn way was I going into a house with snakes.

I didn’t expect the sexy blond to crack up. “I’m joking. No snakes, but that’s just because nobody’s brought any recently. My mother would have taken them in if they showed up.” That made me laugh. I hadn’t met his mother, but even hearing him say it and the snarl in his voice was fucking sexy.

“Come in. Can I get you something to drink? Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at the hospital with Regal?” Thankfully, the sexy blond was looking at Marsh.

“I’m here because Dusty called me. The band needs you. They need you to help them—”

“Mr. Kensington, let’s not kid ourselves and don’t try to blow smoke where the sun don’t shine. It’s not me they need. It’s my songwriting and orchestration skills. They just want me to help them rewrite ‘Bury Me’ and record the revised song because Regal can’t play right now. Oh, and the tour they mentioned so they can get the song in a stupid movie. They don’t give a dang about me. They just want to use me.”

“I don’t think it’s that way at all, Skyler. Can I call you Skyler?”

I chuckled. “Marsh, don’t bullshit him, man. You and I both know that’s exactly what they want with him. If they can’t do this shit for themselves, then they don’t deserve his help.”

Marsh looked at me as if he wanted to slit my throat, but I was trying to be fair to the blond.

“Seriously? You think they’re not gonna try to fuck him over? They’ll get what they want, and then they’ll kiss his ass goodbye, and that’s it.”

“You’re a shitty wingman.” Marsh clearly wanted to deck me, but he knew that would be a mistake.

I laughed. “You never asked me to be your wingman before. I don’t know what you expect from me.”

Marsh stared at me. “Do you even know how to be a human?”

I shrugged and sat on one of the rockers on the large front porch. I wasn’t there to speak with the hot guy. I was there to make sure my brother didn’t get his ass kicked.

“Look, Skyler, after Hope relayed their current, uh, financial challenges, shall we say, I reached out to Harmon Studio to see how much they’d pay for the song. It wouldn’t be worth the fight if it was just a hundred grand because that won’t help your parents. I tried to talk the band into licensing the song to the studio and allowing them to change it to suit their needs, but your father and Dusty were adamant they wouldn’t allow it, to the point Harmon nearly took a pass.

“Your mother was instrumental in changing their minds by promising you’d rewrite the song and give it the treatment the studio wants for the movie. She showed them family videos on her phone of you playing original music, and there’s a chance they might want you to score the whole soundtrack. You can’t tell me that a nice check like that wouldn’t go far for a schoolteacher.”

There was my brother, spouting bullshit to schmooze someone into doing what he wanted. He was good at that—clearly, he’d chosen the perfect profession.

I glanced in Skyler’s direction to see his brow scrunched as he stared at the ground. Finally, his eyes met Marshall’s. “How much?”

“I can only make a guess, but I’d say high six figures, plus whatever deal you can get with the band for a cut of the royalties from sales of the updated single.”

“Is he officially joining the band?” Yeah, I spoke up because the kid was about to get screwed, and not in the way my dick was thinking.

Marsh shot me a pissed-off snarl. “Sandy, what are you doing?”

“No, I’m not joining the band, so I want to be paid for the recording time and whatever else I have to do. I was on the road with the band when I was a kid, and I see no reason to relive that hell. Plus, all of this has to be wrapped up before school preparation begins in August.”

Skyler gave a cute nod as if he believed he’d made his point, and then he sat on the porch steps to pet the two mutts that flopped all over him. The goats came back around after the goose was scared off. The chicken was in the yard doing whatever chickens do.

Marshall stared at Skyler for a good minute—to the point I was about ready to slap him in the back of the head. Finally… “You’ll need a makeover. Lot less teacher. More rock star.”

He then stared at me. “That’ll be your job. He’ll need the stamina to be able to play a hard-rocking hour-and-a-half. His hair needs to look less Poindexter and more rocker. How fast does your hair grow, kid?”

Skyler appeared to be amused with my brother’s babbling, based on the big smile on his face, but I was caught on his comment, “That’ll be your job.”

“Whoa, whoa. What the hell are you talking about, my job ?” I glanced at the gorgeous blond and thought, that’s not the job I had in mind .

“I have no idea how fast my hair grows. Pretty fast, I guess. I just got a cut before our end-of-year concert. If I let it go, it’ll probably be to my shoulders in a few months.” Skyler absentmindedly ran his hand through his blond hair. It wasn’t curly, but there was a lot of it. The sides were shorter, but the top was long enough that someone could get a handful while getting a blowjob. Just sayin’…

“That won’t work. I need it photoshoot ready in a week so we can do publicity for the five shows I have lined up. We need to announce that Regal Ashe’s son will be sitting in with the band until Regal’s ready to take the sticks again.” Marsh already had his phone in his hand, pecking into it before he walked away.

I glanced at Skyler. “I don’t guess you work out or anything?” My voice sounded really fucking judgmental, but I wasn’t the diplomat in the family. That was my little brother.

Skyler stood and put his hands on his hips, giving me an evil eye that nearly had me attached to his plump, kissable lips. No doubt he was pissed.

“I do cardio, lift weights, and do yoga, I’ll have you know.” He flexed his arms, and I had to admit, the guns were impressive. I had to remember he was a band teacher, which wouldn’t require him to tackle anyone, though he could try to tackle me anytime he wanted.

“That’s good. Then it’ll just be building up your stamina, I guess. Arms and core, maybe?” Wait, had I agreed to help Marsh with his fucked-up mission to make Skyler Ashe—who was perfect, in my opinion—into a rock star. Was I up to the task?