Smolder (The Road to Rocktoberfest 2024)

24. Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-four

Sandy

I hurried back to the suite to see that River and Skyler had already packed their things and were gone. I’d overslept and woken with a horrible hangover, so the only thing I could do was get my shit together, find a clean shirt, and meet Marshall and the bounty hunter at an Italian restaurant in the casino.

I rushed to the gift shop and grabbed a cheesy T-shirt with the Las Vegas sign. I slid into the men’s room and quickly washed up, pulling on the T-shirt and slicking my hair back with water. I dried my hands and hurried out to the sign that pointed to Cucina della Nonna. Thankfully, it was just around the corner.

When I arrived at the restaurant, I could see the place wasn’t open, but there was a lot of activity inside. “Hello?”

A handsome guy walked out of the kitchen wearing a bonnet thing on his head. He was dressed in a chef’s coat with black pants, and he had a friendly smile.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t open until four. If you’d like to make a reservation, I can help you.”

A larger man stepped out behind him in the same getup. “Cosa vuoi?”

“Rafael, no one speaks Italian here except you.” The shorter guy giggled and the larger man laughed as well.

“If I didn’t love you like a little brother, Parker, I’d fire you.” The taller man definitely had an accent that I now assumed was Italian.

“You can’t fire me. I’m doing you a favor. How does Dallas put up with your moodiness?” The shorter guy, Parker, giggled again.

“He likes to punish me.”

That was a little more than I needed to hear. Another, even larger, man stepped out from the kitchen. “Are you Sandy Kensington?” I nodded.

“Come on back. I’m Dallas St. Michael. This is my husband, the chef, Rafael, and his business partner, Parker Colson. Marshall’s already in the back having coffee.”

The two chefs gave me fist bumps before returning to the kitchen. I followed Dallas through to a large wooden table to the left of the kitchen, where Marshall was sitting with another man wearing a crisp white shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. I glanced at my brother, who shrugged.

“This is Shep Colson. He works for my cousin-in-law in New York. He’s here for a visit, so Gabe asked him to sit in on this. Grab a seat. Coffee?”

“Yes, please. Mr. Colson, nice to meet you.” The guy was definitely not someone I’d want to run into in a dark alley. His hair was short and brown, like a military cut. His hands were thick, as though he worked with them a lot, and he was staring at me. It made me nervous.

Colson stood and extended his hand. He wasn’t as tall as me, but only by a few inches. His body was solid—he could kick my ass, I was certain. “Nice to meet you. I’ve seen ya play. Sorry about you leavin’ the game. Take a seat.” He pulled out the chair next to him, so I sat, hoping I’d made the grade in Colson’s eyes.

A young man came from the kitchen with a tray. He placed an empty cup in front of me, a carafe, sugar, sweetener, and cream in the middle of the table, and left without a word. St. Michael came out of the kitchen, laughing. He was carrying a platter, which he placed in the middle of the table. There were various breads that all smelled incredible.

“My Magic Chef’s biscuits.” Colson looked at St. Michael. “Does Rafe make things you love when you’re at home? Parker won’t make biscuits for me at home. Says if I want them, I gotta come to Blue Plate.”

St. Michael laughed. “You gotta treat him right, Smokey. You’ve been married longer than me, but I find if I’m taking care of business at home, my bed’s hot every night.”

Marshall smirked in my direction, the fucker. “How about you, big brother? How’s your bed?”

“Empty. How about yours?” I sneered at him, making both men laugh.

St. Michael extended his hand to Colson, who spoke first. “Marshall tells me you’re going to provide security for From the Ashes and Accidental Fire while they’re doing a small-venue tour this summer before they go to Rocktoberfest. I know you’re a hell of a defensive tackle, but can you shoot a gun?”

I swallowed the bite of biscuit that had turned to sawdust in an instant. “I-I, uh, I have a handgun for protection and a gun permit. A couple of the guys on the team talked me into it, and I went to the shooting range a couple of times during the off-season.”

“Do you have a concealed-carry license?” St. Michael asked.

“Uh, no. I don’t carry it with me. I just have it in the gun safe at home in the hall closet. Is a gun necessary to provide protection for an unknown band and a geriatric one?” It all seemed silly to me.

A six-inch blade stuck in the table in front of me. My head nearly screwed off my shoulders, trying to determine where it came from. I saw St. Michael’s husband standing by the kitchen door with a smirk.

St. Michael turned in his chair and laughed loudly. “Now, let’s not scare the guest.”

The chef came over to the table and removed the knife from where it had embedded in the table, pushing the wood down before walking around the table. St. Michael wrapped his arm around the chef’s ass as the scarily sharp blade disappeared into the sleeve of the chef’s smock.

“If we knew where a threat came from, we could eliminate it before it happened. Keeping someone safe requires anticipating dangerous scenarios before they happen.”

The chef kissed St. Michael on his head and turned to us. “Now, what can I make you for breakfast?”

That knife trick scared the fuck out of me, but it drove home a point—I was probably horribly prepared to be a bodyguard for anyone, much less the man I loved.

“What do you think?” Marsh was riding in the passenger seat of the Yukon with me instead of Skyler being where I needed him to be. He was driving the van with JD riding shotgun.

I glanced in the rearview to see Goldie, Arlo, and River were all sound asleep. “I think you need to hire a professional. Those guys know their shit, and I’m not sure what I’d do if someone came after either band.”

Marshall hissed at me. “Nobody is coming after any of them. Don’t worry about it. And for god’s sake, don’t carry a fucking gun. You’ll shoot yourself in the foot.”

That was probably right. I hadn’t shot my gun since I renewed my permit two years ago. I should see what I needed to do to renew it and when.

One thing kept circling my head from the breakfast conversation. It was Shepard Colson who’d spoken of meeting his husband and trying to keep him safe from a substantiated threat.

“What’s a substantiated threat?” It was clear as a bell that Colson was former military—turned out, he’d been in special forces. His demeanor, word choices, and the way he’d scanned the room for threats were like a beacon.

“A substantiated threat is when you know someone is trying to harm your primary. Someone is coming for them, so you keep your gaze sharp and your mind clear for any signs. It’s the unknown threats that scare the shit outta me. When you don’t know they’re coming or what to look for. That’s when I get worried.

“I almost lost Parker because of a situation we didn’t anticipate. Thankfully, my family was there to help me. It’s hard for me to keep my wits about me when that man's around. I already loved him, and I missed some of the signs that we were in for a sneak attack. Thankfully, my mom had my six that day.”

Shepard had gazed into the distance, and it was a few minutes before he returned to the conversation. St. Michael gave me a few tips—always station myself where I can see my primaries, which is what he called the people to be guarded.

Make note of all points of entrance and exit. When possible, have a clear view of the entire area where your primaries are waiting. Things of that sort, which I might not have given a second thought to. I knew how to scan the field to know where other players were during a play, so I was guessing it wasn’t that different.

“Where’d you sleep last night?” Marsh asked as he scrolled this phone.

“I booked a room so I didn’t wake River and Skyler. I met Mary Ellen Gaye last night. She lost a hundred grand because I sacked the QB of the Denver Mustangs in 2022, and she felt the need to tell me. Turned out to be a nice lady. I walked her to her room and realized I was hammered, so I got a separate room and slept it off.” My head was still pounding, but it was getting better.

“Should I meet her?”

I did a doubletake at my brother. “What’s your deal?”

“I’m a free agent. I can be what I wanna be.” I didn’t know what that meant, but I wished him the best of luck.

We stopped twice along the way to use the facilities and get something to drink. Skyler made sure he wasn’t alone with me either time, which pissed me off. By the time we took the exit off the I-5, we’d driven over five hundred miles. I was ready to get out of the fucking SUV, lock Skyler in a goddamn room, and not let him out until he fucking talked to me.

“When are you going back to LA?” I glanced at Marsh as I merged onto the 101 in Gilroy, near my place.

Marshall turned to face me. “What the hell crawled up your ass?”

I had an easy answer for that. “Nothing.”

He was quiet for a minute, then he laughed. “Look, man, I have no idea what’s going on between you and Skyler, but figure it out, please. This is like threading a needle with this damn song and the two bands. Clearly, what I saw and sent to Hammond Studio is exactly what they want for Hurricane Alley. It’s got such a great beat that can be mixed up and fit the mood of the scene. I need Skyler to want to help with that, and if I gotta use you to get it, then I will.”

I had no doubt he’d use whomever he needed to because that was Marshall’s MO to his core. Always had been.

When we arrived at my place, Skyler was kind enough to pull the van forward so I could park in my garage behind the pool. When I turned off the motor, we all bailed out, and Goldie and Arlo perused the cars I had inside.

As I stared at the exotic vehicles, I kept asking myself again why I had them when I didn’t drive them after the shine wore off. I was swamped with embarrassment at realizing I’d tried to replace living, breathing people in my life with material things others admired. God, I was an idiot.

Something occurred to me, so I turned to Marshall. “How are they getting to the gigs over the summer?” Marsh pointed to the U-Haul van Skyler had just exited.

“That won’t work. They can’t all fit in there with their equipment, Marsh. Where will they sleep? They’ll have to stay at least one night on the road.”

Yes, the dates were spaced out enough that they wouldn’t have to be on the road for long periods of time, but there would be the drive to the venue, the concert, and then the drive back home. My brother had lost his fucking mind if he thought that shoving all of them in a van with their equipment was going to work.

“Look, this is my job, Sandy. I didn’t come on the sidelines in Chicago and tell you how to do your damn job, so don’t start telling me how to do mine.” He stormed out of the garage and across the pool deck to the back door of my basement.

Skyler entered the garage and stepped in front of me. “Where’s Marshall?”

My eyes left the door where Marsh had just entered and settled on the beautiful man in front of me. “Fuck Marshall. What do you need?”

Skyler’s eyes grew huge before his lips thinned in anger. “He’s supposed to be their manager. They need to know where to go and what to do next. Those four young men are at his mercy right now, and he’s not giving them any information. Riv and I can’t go back to my parents’ place because Regal is going to throw a fit when he hears we debuted ‘Bury Me’ without their permission.”

I might not know much about the music industry, but I knew about contracts because I’d worked through a few myself over my sixteen years in professional sports. “Did you or any of the boys sign anything?”

“No, but I guess they have a verbal agreement with him to represent them.” Skyler’s voice sounded quite concerned, and his compassion for the boys touched me deep inside.

I almost reached up to touch his face, but I didn’t. “Who paid for the rental van?” I was trying to figure out if anything of value exchanged hands between the members of Accidental Fire and my brother. I loved him, but if Marshall wouldn’t see reason, then I would find someone who could represent AF, and my brother could deal with telling his boss he’d fucked up again.

“Uh, Marshall reserved it, but Goldie’s dad paid for it. He was the one who actually picked it up for Goldie, loaded all of the sound equipment into it, and brought it over to your place yesterday morning.”

I reached for my wallet and handed Skyler about five hundred dollars. “Please find out how much it cost and pay Goldie for it. Did Marsh pay for any of the meals or anything?”

“The meal we had at the camp, the trailers we slept in, and the Suburban I used when I first got to town. We paid for our own food at the festival, and I paid for our dinner last night and breakfast this morning. He’s paying for the piano at your place. Why?” Skyler’s nose wrinkled a little in confusion. It took everything inside me not to kiss him.

“Because for a verbal contract to be binding, both sides must agree to the terms, and then there must be an exchange of something of value, like Marshall paying for the van. The Suburban doesn’t count because it was before the new band was formed, and the piano is necessary for you to do work for From the Ashes. When it comes to the band, if he hasn’t been paying their expenses, he hasn’t lived up to his end of a verbal contract.”

“How do you know that?”

Part of me wanted to be offended, but he had a point. I was a jock, and except for a few people in sports, we weren’t exactly known to be members of Mensa.

“I’ve had a few contracts in my life, and when it comes to my money, I want to know all the details. You guys did an unpaid gig on Saturday, so there’s nothing to get there. Also, I paid for the campground stuff, so that’s covered. The equipment you’re using is all yours, and the sound equipment is from Goldie’s dad, right?”

Skyler nodded but held up his hand. “He has Michael Cruz’s business card though. He was our connection to Rocktoberfest.”

“I’ll find him. Don’t worry about Cruz. You and River are welcome to stay here, you know. You guys can store your equipment here, we’ll return the van, and you and Riv will be my guests. It’s the least I can do after my earlier fuck up. Besides, if you’re here, maybe I can get you to talk to me so we can straighten things out between us.” I could fucking hope, right?

“Is there something to straighten out between us? What would your girlfriend think about that?” His snarl told me everything I needed to know.

Bam! Out of left field, he’s pissed again! I have no idea what he’s talking about. “ What girlfriend ?”

“The woman you spent the night with. I waited for you to return to the suite so we could talk. You didn’t come back all night.” Skyler turned to storm off, but I wrapped my arm around his waist and picked him up, carrying him kicking and screaming from the garage to the pool deck.

“Where’s your phone?” I wasn’t a total douchebag.

He patted his pockets. “I forgot it in the van. Don’t you dare—”

Splash!

When we both surfaced, I grabbed his beautiful face and held it so I could look into his gorgeous brown eyes. “There’s no woman. I’m in love with you, and there won’t be anyone else if there’s any fucking chance I could have a future with you.”

I brushed the water out of his eyes, and then he kissed me. He wrapped his arms around my neck, and his tongue slid inside my mouth, tangling with mine. I moved his legs to wrap around my waist and held him tightly. It was exactly as it should be when you love someone.

He broke the kiss, his breathing labored. “Water went up my nose, but I love you too.”

This time, I attacked his mouth before a loud round of applause caught our attention. I ended the kiss, and we both looked around to find the members of Accidental Fire standing at the side of the pool, clapping.

“Thank fuck.” River shook his head and picked up his backpack to carry into the house. He came out with two towels from the closet in the gym before going back inside.

“Don’t mess it up,” Arlo called as he grabbed his backpack.

Goldie followed Arlo inside, and JD squatted at the side of the pool. “Since you two are in love now, can I have Skyler’s old bedroom?”

We stared at each other and smirked before turning to JD. “ No! ”

JD laughed as he went in through the basement entrance to follow the rest. It seemed as if I had five new roommates, only one of whom I wanted.

We climbed out of the pool and stripped down to our underwear since there were people in the house. “What are we going to do about Marshall?” Skyler was sitting on the large lounger next to me.

I chuckled. “We’re not going to do anything about Marshall. He’ll be leaving tonight, and then we’ll figure it out tomorrow, okay?” I leaned forward and kissed Skyler’s forehead.

“So, who was the woman?”

I grinned. “Her name is Mary Ellen Gaye. She wasn’t my date. We sat in the lounge for a while and discussed our failures, then we kept each other upright until we got to Burger Heaven in the food court. I walked her to her room, and then I went to the front desk and got another room where I passed out in my clothes. Do you like my fancy T-shirt?” I pointed to the seven-dollar masterpiece on the pool deck.

Skyler laughed. “Did you think to get one for me?”

I smirked. “You can have that one. Next time we go, we’ll get matching ones. We’ll be that couple.”

His laugh was music to my ears.