Smolder (The Road to Rocktoberfest 2024)

11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Skyler

Marshall was right. I was staying with Sandy because I needed to work, not to hang out and pretend as if I had a chance with the football player. I missed my simple life in Illinois.

I decided to tackle the end of the song, thinking it was better to address the middle when River and JD came over on Thursday because we needed to create a hard-rocking guitar bridge with a much better player than me. It might be best to do it at my father’s recording studio so we could capture it on audio for Dusty so he could tweak it for live performances.

I was trying to conceptualize how a rock bridge would sound in the middle of the song with the first verse, chorus, and second verse written as they were. I tried a few riffs on the six-string River had loaned me, but it wasn’t coming together. I was about to give up when there was a soft knock on my bedroom door.

“Come in.” I put the guitar down and stood from the side of the bed, suddenly nervous when Sandy came inside and leaned against the wall by the door.

“Don’t listen to Marshall. He’s a pain in the ass.” He crossed his arms over his broad pecs, studying me.

I smiled, my face heating at his scrutiny. “No, he’s right. I’m here bothering you because I have a job to do, not for fun, and I need to get my work done so I can go home.”

“Uh, I’m not so sure about when you’ll get to go home. Marsh mentioned the dates for the appearances, and they don’t start until mid-July.” He walked over and sat on the bed, so I sat near the headboard. Based on his expression, he was about to give me some news I wouldn’t be happy to hear.

“What are the dates, and where are they?”

“July twelfth and thirteenth in San Diego.” He lifted his hand and read from the words on his palm. “Uh, July thirty-first in Long Beach. August tenth in Los Angeles. August thirtieth in Lincoln, then circling back to San Francisco on September sixth.” He then glanced up, his eyes locking on mine to await my reaction.

I sighed, the tension in my shoulders increasing. “I can do San Diego and Long Beach, but the rest of the dates are out. I need to be back in Illinois for summer band camp, which starts on August fifth.”

Just then, Marshall stuck his head into the room. “Can’t someone else do it for you? We really need you on the rest of those dates. It will mean a lot to your father and mother. If these dates do well, not only will he get paid, but the studio would also weigh the reviews from the shows with more intensity when they’re making their decision about the song.”

More guilt. Could I ever get away from it? Why did it feel as though everything was resting on my shoulders? Probably because it is, stupid!

“Maybe I can fly back and forth for the other three?” I wasn’t trying to be difficult. I was more than willing to work with everyone, but I couldn’t let my kids down either.

“If you can afford that, I’ll discuss it with the band.” That made my stomach flip. I definitely didn’t have the money for that kind of travel.

Like a flash, Sandy pushed his brother out the door and pulled it closed behind them. I stood from the bed and quietly approached the door to listen, but I couldn’t hear anything. Cracking the door to check, I found the hallway empty. It happened so fast that I was still a little dizzy.

I tiptoed toward Sandy’s bedroom at the end of the hallway. The door was closed, so I put my ear near it but still didn’t hear anything. I had no idea where they’d gone or how they’d gotten away so quickly but standing in the hallway and wondering about it wasn’t working on ‘Bury Me’.

I returned to my room and picked up the six-string again, doing my best to focus. I had far too many things circling my mind to worry about where Marshall and Sandy had gone.

All day Wednesday, I worked on the song’s ending, using the rented piano at Sandy’s house. I had bits of an accompanying score floating through my head as well. If the studio picked ‘Bury Me’ for the movie, the music in my head would work perfectly for the rest of it, but it would need a lot of work for the action sequences to give it the depth needed to build the movie to the climax. I’d never composed a film score before, but it was somewhat exciting to consider.

Sandy had left before I got up that morning, probably not looking forward to another day of me plunking around. He’d left a note on the coffee maker that he’d be back late in the afternoon, and Marshall had gone to my mom’s house to meet with the band. I hadn’t called in the last couple of days to check on Regal, so guilt was rearing its ugly head, but I had a song to fix, and if I went to Mom’s, she’d just ask me to repair something or clean up something. No thanks. I’d had my fill of shoveling animal feces for a long time.

I headed to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee when the landline rang. I forgot where I was for a second and picked it up. “Hello?”

“Is this Sanders Kensington?”

It was a woman’s voice. Sandy had said he was gay—was outed in a very public way—but maybe he was bisexual? It’s definitely none of my business.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m a friend and accidentally picked up the phone out of habit. I can hang up, and you can call back and leave a message if you’d prefer.”

“Can you just give him my name, Kathleen Graves, and my number…?” She rattled off her number rather quickly, but I got it down.

“Will he know why you’re calling?” Maybe it was rude to ask, but what if she was a bill collector? I’d tear up the message and never say a word.

“Tell Sandy I just took over the Baltimore Shuckers football team from my father, and I’d like to chat with him.” Then, before I could ask her to repeat the number, she hung up.

I wrote down her message and put the pen and paper on the counter. I hoped it was good news.

I went back to the piano and turned on my phone’s recording app so I could play what I’d written so far and listen back to it, and then I got lost in the music again.

What if, instead of a hard-banging guitar riff, we modeled the song after another rock band from back in the day and used an alternative instrument? Maybe a flute? Or a steel drum? It was something to consider.

When I listened to the recording later, I thought of ways to further change it and incorporate those changes into the last part of the song. I sang along to ensure the lyrics worked with the melody, and then I recorded it without the guitar break in the middle.

“Damn, that was fucking beautiful.”

I quickly spun on the piano stool to see Sandy leaning against the doorway, his eyes appraising me. My face flushed with embarrassment. It was the second time he’d caught me singing, and I was not a great singer.

“Sorry you had to witness that again.”

“On the contrary. It sounded great. Just enough like the original for people to recognize it, but new. I think it’s fantastic.” He turned to go back to the kitchen, so I quickly cleaned up my mess and followed him.

“I thought I could take you out for dinner tonight.” I arrived behind him at the kitchen counter, where he was reading the note.

“What’s this about?” He held up the pad with the note on it.

I chuckled. “Do you not know how to read?”

Thankfully, Sandy laughed with me. “Yes, though I sometimes need help with the big words.” His sarcastic smile was more than I was prepared to see.

“That’s all she said. I’m sorry I answered your phone. I forgot where I was for a minute and answered when it rang. She told me her name and left that message for you. I won’t answer it—”

“No, no. You didn’t do anything wrong. Thanks for picking up.”

“It’s important, then? You know her?” I was way out of line asking personal questions like that, but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“I don’t know her, but I know of her. Kathleen Graves is the daughter of Jerry Graves, the owner of the Baltimore NFL franchise. It was recently announced that Jerry had a stroke, and Kathleen happens to be the eldest of his three children, though the younger two aren’t her full siblings. I just want to know why she’s calling me .”

I understood the dynamic he’d described for the Graves family because, ironically, I had the same in my own life. It wasn’t easy to accept people you didn’t grow up with, but River and I had found common ground—our love of music. It took a while, but I’d come to appreciate River.

Unfortunately, our father wasn’t any more supportive of River than me, so we had that in common. Fortunately, Regal Ashe’s narcissistic tendencies seemed to have stopped with him.

“I can leave so you can call her back. I’ll just go—”

“I have nothing to hide. Stick around.” Sandy’s smile had me stuck to the spot as he dialed the phone number I’d written down and put it on speakerphone.

“Ms. Graves’ office. How may I help you?”

“Hello. I’m Sanders Kensington, returning Ms. Graves’ call.”

“One moment, please.”

To her word, the familiar voice came on the line. “Sandy Kensington? I’m glad you called me back.”

“Hi, Ms. Graves. How are you doing? I heard about your father’s stroke. How’s he doing?” Sandy sounded very empathetic, which was nice to hear.

“He’s in a rehabilitation facility. Some paralysis on the right side, but none of his organs were affected. He’ll need to undergo intensive therapy for a while. Hopefully, he’ll recover more use on his right side so he’ll be able to get around with a cane and not be confined to a wheelchair. As you might guess, it’s a work in progress. How about you, Sandy? You’ve been off the field for a year. How are you doing?”

Sandy chuckled. “I’m holding my own. What can I do for you?” The sexy football player kept his eyes on me.

“I’m looking for a new assistant coach for the D-line and special teams. I tried to get Jackson Delacroix to come back to the game, but he’s settled into a new business with his partners and says he’s happier than ever. Do me a favor before you say no. Come to the minicamp in three weeks. Give me an evaluation of the draftees. I’ll pay you for your time regardless of whether you’re willing to discuss anything further.”

Sandy glanced at me.

Was he waiting for me to say something? Offer a suggestion? I knew nothing about his business, and it wasn’t for me to care what he did with his life, so I didn’t know what he wanted me to say.

“You do know the reason I was released from my contract, right?”

The loud laugh was a surprise. “I do, Sandy, and I thought it was bullshit. Things won’t be that way now, I promise. There’s a new sheriff in town, and she’s a lesbian.”

Sandy’s eyebrows shot into his hairline as he heard her remark. His big smile had me grinning in return.

“I’ll come for the minicamp. Email the details. I fired my agent after I got let go because he didn’t fight against me getting released from the team, but I can negotiate my own deal. I won’t promise anything beyond the minicamp, Ms. Graves. I have another job waiting for me, but this won’t interfere with it. Can you live with that?”

“For now, Sandy. I’ll have my assistant send the details. Thanks for calling me back. Talk soon.” The woman hung up, and I watched Sandy’s face morph into shock.

“Can you fucking believe that?” He scooped me up and swung me around, which shocked me ! As if realizing what he’d done, he quickly put me on my feet and stepped back.

The air was full of awkward apprehension, so I spoke up. “I’m so happy for you. You were a force on the field when you played. Why wouldn’t she want you to work with her team?” That was really all I could add. I wasn’t knowledgeable about many sports, though I knew enough about football to get by.

Teaching a marching band to support the team under the Friday night lights necessitated learning enough about the game to cue the band to play fanfare when the team scored or got a first down. During timeouts, we offered percussion accompaniments until the team took the field again. When there was a bad call, we played an out-of-tune razzamatazz, and I’d had to learn when and why to order those spontaneous moments.

“Sounds like a good opportunity if you’re interested in returning to the game. Congratulations.”

Sandy studied me for a minute. “I’ll be accompanying you and From the Ashes on your five appearances. I’m helping Marsh be sure you guys are safe.”

“Will you be able to make the last few gigs work? I’ll have to figure out how to—”

“No, you won’t. Marsh is being a tight ass. He wants a bigger piece of the pie, but if you give him an ultimatum, he’ll come through with airfare for you,” Sandy assured.

“I…I’m not good at that, Sandy. I'm not really good at confronting anyone outside of my parents. Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out. The airfare, I mean. Thanks though. I better get back to work.”

Sandy chuckled. “Leave it to me.”

His sexy smirk nearly did me in.