Chapter 1: Prologue

Author's Note:  Tantric is Book 3 of the Soundcrush Series. You can probably read it without reading Epic and Urgent, but it won't be nearly as fun. We've seen  a whole lot of Leed and Ashlynn in these two previous books, and I can't possibly repeat every detail of their backstories in this work. I can promise you won't be sorry if you start at the beginning of the series.

I'll do my best to provide theme songs for most chapters. Keep in mind that Soundcrush is an Alt Rock Revival Band, so much of the music will be alternative rock, mostly from the hey-day of alternative, the 90's. We'll start with Leed's theme song for his Ash feels: You and Me by Lifehouse (see header video).  I think it's a good one, because it talks a lot about a guy trying to figure out how he feels about a girl, and  time and people getting in between.

My vision of our two main characters:

Without further ado, let's begin our long-awaited story about these two favorites in the Soundcrush World!

Leed, five years ago, Athens GA

Girls make you bleed, man.

They cut you with inattention.

Then, if you are a dumbass like me, you go ahead and rub salt in your own wound.

And the girl you are bleeding out for? She doesn't even notice you are impaling yourself for her. She's too busy going supervnova on your bad-ass bandmate.

I toss the knife down in defeat and move to the sink before I bleed all over the limes I'm cutting for tequila shooters. I was watching the girl, not paying attention to my business, and the knife slipped, leaving me with a nasty gash, covered in acid and salt.

It's alright. I heard somebody say, pain makes you beautiful.

Hasn't been my experience so far in life. I'm more of a happy-go-lucky-type, but I'm down to try anything to get up next to that girl tonight.

She smiled at me earlier.

Smile is not really the word. She looked at me—really looked at me—and curled her lips, and I didn't know if it was day or night, because all I could see was her light.

Now I can't keep my eyes off her, but she's only got eyes for Trace. I think she might be trying to kill him with her stare, though. If she actually moves her stare-down into the actual kill-zone, that would suck. Our band would lose its founding member and the best damn guitarist in Athens, Ga. So I'm satisfied for the girl to keep her murderous gaze theoretical. I'm just hoping it's not one of those love-hate things in her eyes.

My hand is bleeding like a stuck pig. I tear myself away from gawking at her and look around the little rental-slash-slum-house my best friend and I are occupying for our junior year. There's plenty of booze.

But are there any band-aids?

"Hey Bodes!" I yell from the open kitchen to the living room. The strength of my voice catches the girl's attention. They call me the Lion, and I'll concede the nickname is well-deserved when it comes to my vocals as the Soundcrush Frontman, but I feel like I get a bad rep, when it comes to other lionly traits. Mostly, I'm a pussycat, unless it comes to defending someone I care about.

Anyway,  because of my roar,  the girl's eyes dart to me, as I hold up my gushing hand toward my roommate, the Soundcrush drummer. "We got any band-aids?"

Bodie finishes off his beer before answering. "I don't know, man. Ask your sister."

Bodie is under the impression that just because my baby sister is female, that's she's domestic and nurturing like all the women in his family. But Mac doesn't live here, and though she does hang out here a lot and is constantly bringing bags of shit into the house, they are much more likely to be sacks of party food, incense, tapestries, red solo cups, condoms or other supplies to aid in the perpetual party we are living in Casa Soundcrush.  She's our keyboardist, our female vocalist, and much more of a maneater than me. She's not so much for first aid supplies.

On the off chance I'm wrong and she has actually stocked the band house with band-aids, I look around for Macaroni, but she's not here.

"Where'd she go?" I ask, indignant. Drives me insane, how she's always sneaking off by herself. Does she have some guy—or some girl—she doesn't want to bring around?

Adam, Soundcrush's bass player and my most helpful bandmate, looks up from his phone. "She said something about walking down to Rolo's."

Rolo is a petty weed dealer who lives in slightly better accommodations about a half-mile down the road. I like Rolo, and his weed, but I don't like Mac hanging around him. My little sister is too hot for her own good, and just like practically any guy with a dick, Rolo would like to use his on her. I don't like the idea of my sister getting mixed up with a drug dealer. His connections are too sketch, up the chain.

"Jesus, Adam!  You let her go by herself?"

Adam jumps up like he was expecting me to say that. Weird. "You right, Leed. My bad. I'll go catch up with her." He darts into the bathroom, and throws me a roll of toilet tissue. "For your hand. After I find her, we'll go get some band-aids and antibiotic shit at the Stop-N-Shop, but I'm too drunk to drive, so we'll be a little while."

"Thanks, man." I wrap the toilet paper around and around my finger, but it bleeds through in seconds. The girl is watching me now, but when I smile at her again, she cuts her eyes back to Trace and the Jailbait he's got backed up against a wall. I know Jailbait is Trace's girl-next-door  from back home, but damn. That pretty little girl can't be more than fifteen, and he needs to be careful.

The girl with the sunlight smile--the girl I nearly sliced my finger off over-- came with Jailbait. Her older sister, I think, from the way they have the same dramatic cheekbones and the same shape to their eyes, and the same smile. Jailbait is all caramel and sultry, even as young as she is. Her older sister is pure gold—all bright and blinding light. Liquid sunlight.

Yeah. She's pure Sunshine.

Right now is not the time to get close to her light, however. She'll incinerate me, probably. She looks pissed, because Trace is leaning in close to Jailbait and offering her his beer cup. Sunshine stalks over and stabs Trace with a bunch of furious words. He looks bored as he parries with her and Jailbait looks completely sure who's going to win the battle, because she slides closer to Trace, smiling into the beer cup as she sips. Sunshine swings around to her friends, looking for support. A couple of them reluctantly rise, and for a second my heart speeds up.

Is Sunshine about to drag her sister and her posse out of here? Will I ever see her again?

Trace winks at Jailbait behind Sunshine's back, stalks over to me, swipes my bottle of cheap tequila and the tiny little red solo shot cups and says, "Imma need this for a minute."

I grab him by the wrist. "The girl...what's her name?"

"Katheryn," he says, smiling at Jailbait.

"Not her. The angry sister."

He rolls his icy eyes. "Funsucker."

I don't know why that pisses me off, but it does. Sunshine looks fun to me. I figure she's just worried about Trace stealing her little sister's V-card like he swiped my handle of tequila. Casually, just because he can. Normally I like Trace fine, just like I like Rolo fine, but what I don't like is a douchebag who takes advantage of baby sisters--mine or anybody else's. I don't think Trace is that guy, though. Not really. I figure he'll be sleeping along tonight, and Jailbait will leave filled with a flirtatious memory and one-day dreams.

Trace proceeds to pour all of Sunshine's friends  tequila. They all cheer him and sit back down. That's game over for Sunshine. She stomps away to the back of the tiny house, where Bodie and I have two tiny bedrooms and a tiny bathroom between us. I almost go after her, but I figure it's better to play it cool. I guarantee there are people fucking back there in the bedrooms and doing drugs a serious step up from the bong that's sitting on the coffee table.

I'm betting Sunshine will be back in a skinny minute. She doesn't exactly look like the type of girl to join in on a backroom party. She looks...sweet. More innocent than her little sister, actually. However, I doubt with beauty and a body like hers that she's as innocent as she looks. She's surely had her pick of guys since she was her sister's age. If she's Trace's neighbor, then she's had her pick of rich boys. Boys with brand new cars and bank accounts, not a ten-year old beater and looming student loans, like me.

I don't have much to offer a girl like her, except a whole lot of fun and one good bottle of booze.

I reach down under the sink and pull out said bottle of top-shelf tequila that I have hidden inside a bag of dog food. I keep it wrapped inside several grocery store bags to protect it from the greasy, gross hiding place. We don't have much stuff in the house. I haven't found anywhere else to hide my good booze where it doesn't get jacked.

The dog food was here when we moved in. The grocery sacks Mac keeps under the sink. The tequila is from my good buddy Tam—who also happens to be Bodie's cousin. Her daddy owns a bar and she's been my hook-up since forever, in more ways than one. I miss her, lately. She's making bank right now in NYC, working as a catalog model. When she's home here in Athens, she's good to me, and I try to be good to her. She gets mad at me, though...she tells me all the time I'm not really in love with her, which is why I guess she's always hooking up with other guys in New York—looking for the real deal.

So I hook up with other girls, because I can. Tam gives me a free pass, and I figure I'd be a fool not to take it. As far as I'm concerned, Tam and I have a good thing...we've been hanging out for over three years, but she keeps on about that missing something. I've been under the impression Tam has watched the Notebook one too many goddamn times, but right this minute? Watching Sunshine stumble hurriedly out of the hall and make her way toward me like she's determined to be my Weekend Destiny?

Maybe Tam is right. Maybe you don't know what's missing until you find it.

Goddamn, I'm down to search around. With Sunshine. Tonight.

And while we look? We've got a hundred dollar bottle of tequila to make it interesting.

Sunshine stops right in front of me at the sink and opens her palm. She's got a tiny tube of super glue. It was probably the one on the bathroom counter, that I used to glue the faucet handle back on yesterday, because you know...a tube of super glue costs a buck and a new faucet costs like...three sacks of weed.

"Can I use this?" she asks.

I laugh. This chic is trippin' me out. I have no idea what the glue is about, but she looks adorable, her beauty twisted into a small scowl, all her light laser-focused, meeting my gaze. I didn't even have to work to get up next to her. She's meeting me more than halfway.

"Sure," I grin. "I'm Leed, by the way."

"Hi," she huffs. "I'm—"

A minute ago, I wanted to know her name, but now I put a finger to her lips. "Don't tell me. Not yet."

She scowls a little more, her amber eyes lighting up with indignation. "You don't want to know my name?"

"I do. But I named you in my head, and I want to keep your nickname, just a little bit longer. It suits you." I lean against the counter and brazenly check her out.

Her eyes widen. I guess she's not used to a guy like me, who knows he can afford to check out a girl like her, cause he's got nothing to lose. "You named me in your head?"

"Yep," I can't keep the grin off my face. She presses her lips together and narrows her eyes. She's trying hard not to smile back. She's fucking adorable, and I'm dying to know about the super glue, but we'll get there. To the glue and the tequila. Right now, we're just giving each other the up and down.

"So what's my name? In your head, I mean."

"Sunshine."

She bursts out laughing, putting her hand over her mouth, her eyes lighting with mirth. I laugh with her, not because I get the joke, but just because. It feels like a new rule in my life. If Sunshine laughs, I'm laughing with her.

She collects herself. "That's funny, especially since it's not true."

I lean toward her. "It's true. You're very sunny." I mean it. It's not a line, and I think she gets that, because the laughter drains away into a softer smile than I've seen yet.

She fingers the super glue in her hand. "Your guitarist doesn't think so. In fact, he thinks the exact opposite. He just called me the Black Hole of Fun."

"Did he?" I cross my arms and look at Trace, still flirting with Sunshine's sister. I feel a stab of dread. "You care what he thinks?"

She cocks her head, turning the super glue over and over, like she's considering, "I care what everyone thinks, I guess."

A weirdness tightens in my chest when she says that. She doesn't need to care what everyone thinks. She'll waste her light shining on a cold, indifferent world, when she could be shining for someone who could give her back real warmth.

"Well, you know what I think?" I nudge her with my elbow.

"What?" her blonde hair is falling forward, hiding her face.

"I think Trace is full of shit about half the time. And I think you should tell me what you plan to do with my super glue, because I'm really curious about that."

"Oh!" she exclaims, like she's embarrassed. "Well, let me look at your hand, before I tell you," She unwraps it, not minding that my blood is staining her fingers. "Mmmmmmm," she says sympathetically, as she reaches the gaping gash on the side of my index finger. "It's pretty deep. I figured, with that much blood. You really need a couple of stitches at the ER."

"Yeah that's not gonna happen," I smile down at the top of her head. "No health insurance. And since I have about fifty bucks to my name right now..."

She nods. "Yeah, I get that. That's why it's so great that you have some super glue," she beams at me, completely unphased by the admission of my poverty.

"You're gonna super glue me?"

"Yep, I'm going to fix you."

Fuck me. I'm groovin' this preppy, straight-laced hottie with a brain outside the box. Kinda think maybe this girl could get in all my cracks, and seal them.

"I think it's only right, since it's my fault you cut yourself," she continues with a playful grin that almost approaches wicked, and for the first time ever, I think I may have met a girl that could grab hold of my heart and make a play to run with it.

"Ah. You caught me checking you out. Bet you get that a lot, huh?"

She shrugs, but I can't see her face because she's intent on my finger. "Not sure. I guess I wouldn't notice, unless I was checking back." Something inside me twists. Damn, Sunshine is flirting with me, and everything about her tells me she's not a flirt. Then, she giggles. "Damn. I can't believe I said that. Sorry. I think I've had too much too drink."

She's had a few beers that I've seen. Doesn't seem like a lot, even for a girl. If she's reckless, it probably has more to do with Trace making her feel like a killjoy, than the drinks she consumed. But maybe she pre-gamed before she came over. Suddenly, I'm all about making this girl feel ok with being in my place.

"Well, no worries, Sunshine. If you've had too much, you and your sister can have my bed. I'll crash on the couch."

She blinks. "You mean that, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course. You're not local, are you? You probably don't know your way around town...of course I mean that." There are girls I would get with after a few drinks. Girls that I drink with regularly. Enough to be able to tell, they know what they want. This girl? She's not one of them.

"Thank you," she murmurs. "But we rode with a friend, she's the DD..." She's holding my bleeding hand over the sink with one of hers, and pulling the cork from the tequila with her teeth. I'm so completely enthralled, I don't even stop her from pouring the good shit over my cut.

A minute later, she's fixed me. The bleeding has stopped, and the cut is closed with a neat line of super glue.

"That's fucking great. Thank you," I still can't take my eyes off her.

"You're welcome," she says solemnly.

"Listen...will you drink this exceptional bottle of wound disinfectant with me?" I ask her. "Just you and me, away from all these people."

She shakes her head, but her mouths says, "Okay."

I laugh. "Which is it?"

"I shouldn't."

"But you want to."

She smiles and looks down into the sink at my blood. She rinses it down the drain, and washes her hands. "Okay, but just a couple. Not the whole bottle."

I grab a grocery sack and throw in the limes, the salt, the only clean shot glass in the house, and the tequila. She doesn't stop me when I take her hand and lead her out the back door, into the chilly night, grabbing my jacket off the chair on the way.

Two minutes later, I have a mini bar set up on the dash of my old Toyota Corolla and Sunshine is wrapped in my jacket, shivering because the heat hasn't kicked in yet. She's never done a tequila shot, so I teach her. I drip lime juice on my unwounded hand, and pour salt on top.

"Lick," I tell her. I think she will balk, but she doesn't. She takes my hand in hers, and slides her tongue slowly across my flesh.

Goddamn. This girl is gonna make me loose my cool.

She giggles and tosses back the shot like a champ. I push the lime into her lips. I almost put it in my teeth instead to make her come get it. Something holds me back. I don't want to kiss her. Not yet. It's too soon.

Fuck, Lawson. She's just a pretty girl. Kiss her and get over it, like all the other pretty girls.

I don't. I pour salt on her hand, and kiss it instead, lapping up the salt as her breath hitches, closing my eyes as I drink from the bottle, because the smell of her skin, beneath the salt, is making me lose my mind.

"Let's play a game," I suggest. Anything, to keep from kissing her yet. Anything, to keep this beautiful torture going.

To my surprise, she pours herself a second shot, and drinks it. "Why am I not surprised you like games?"

"I like fun," I tell her. "Games are fun."

"Some games are dangerous." She give me a laser look and I laugh.

"An innocent game," I assure her. "I swear."

"What game?"

"I bet I can guess your name in twenty questions."

"Highly unlikely," she scoffs.

"You underestimate me. I'm pretty smart. For a stoner musician, at least." Smart enough to get myself into college without a damn bit of help from either of my self-absorbed parents, and smart enough to get my sister here, too. I don't say that, though. Lots of people have started from farther down than me and gone further. Look at Bodie. Dude came from juvi, and now he's headed to law school. Or so he thinks. If I have anything to do with it, Soundcrush is headed to superstardom. I'm majoring in theater. What else am I going to do, if this band doesn't make it? Like I said, I've got nothing to lose.

"What are the stakes?" she asks. "What do you want, if you win the game?"

I wrap a wavy blond strand of hair in my finger. She is so pretty in the shadowy dashlights of my car. "No stakes. You don't have to bet a thing on me, Sunshine. I told you, it's all for fun."

Her smiles, but that's not a good enough word to describe it. Her lips curl happy. "You're nice. A lot nicer than you look."

I pretend to be offended. "I don't look nice?"

She returns the touch, tugging slightly at a reddish lock of my longish hair, and then sliding her finger down my arm, to the tribal tat peeking from my T-shirt sleeve. "You know what you look like."

"Yeah, I do." No need to be modest. I'm dangerously good-looking, leaning toward the sin-side. "Do you know what you look like?" I ask her. Cause she's got a sexy glow simmering under her skin that is so much more than her perfect good-girl features and her preppy modest clothes.

She doesn't answer. She pours another shot, hands me the bottle and says, "First question."

"Your initial—first half of the alphabet or last?"

"First."

"Vowel or consonant?"

"Vowel."

I grin and take a swig. "See, in two questions I already know that your name starts with A, E, or I."

"I'm not telling you which one."

"I didn't ask you to. Is it traditional or unique?"

She hesitates. "It's kind of...a unique mix of two traditional names."

"How many syllables?"

"Two."

I think a minute. "Don't tell me the name, but can you think of a singer that has one of the names that makes yours? Tell me the name of a song they sing."

She's adorable when she bites her lip, thinking. "Okay, hold on...that's hard, I know a singer, from a long time ago. Okay, yeah, I've got one song."

"What's the song?"

"Coal Miner's Daughter."

"Okay, that's easy. That's Loretta Lynn. And it has to be the Lynn, cause the Loretta part is too weird, and it starts with A, E, or I. It's not Evelyn, because that's a traditional name and it's three syllables."

"No,"

I put a finger on her lips, again, just to touch her. "Hold up, that wasn't a guess. That was me thinking out loud. Two traditional names, put together...it can't be Emmalynn or Amberlynn or Ivylynn because those are three syllables. Let me think..."

Then it hits me, like I know for sure, what her name is, because it fits her. Unique but elegant. Pretty, but strong. A mix of Ashley and Lynn.

"Ashlynn."

Her mouth drops open. "You just guessed my name in seven questions."

I feel my own lips curling happy.

"Told you not to underestimate me."

She laughs in disbelief as she runs two fingers down my forehead. "I like the way your brain works."

"I like..." everything about you, but instead I say, "your name. Ashlynn, Ashlynn, Ashlynn..." I repeat in the dark, the smell of tequila on our breath.

My lips are almost touching hers, when she whispers. "I have a boyfriend."

"Is it serious?" I brush the question across her lips, and she sighs in regret, pushing me back, bowing her head to avoid the kiss.

"Yes," she says simply.

I push a little air out, a sad imitation of a laugh. "Lucky guy."

"I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to...start something."

I ease back into the driver's seat, and put my hands firmly on the wheel. "Don't be sorry. This was just...fun."

"Yeah," she agrees. "Thanks for changing my mood."

There's a part of me that thinks I want to change her world, but instead of begging for the chance, I take another swig of tequila to drown the plea in my throat. "My pleasure," I manage to choke out.

She puts her hand on the car door and looks out the window. "I'm glad I met you, Leed."

"I'm glad I met you too, Ashlynn." A new thought occurs to me. I can't decide if the thought takes the sting out of her rejection or makes it worse. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I think I'll see you again sometime. If my boy and your sister have anything to say about it."

She smiles her light at me, like she likes the thought. "You're probably right. Good luck with the band. Your sound is amazing, and your voice...your whole frontman thing...you're a star already. And Trace plays the guitar like nothing I ever heard. I think you guys will make it."

I just nod, cause if I say anything else, it's going to be the Lion talking, and she's not the kind of girl that I should try to seduce into cheating on her boyfriend after she's had a bunch of shots.

"Bye, Leed," she says, still lingering.

"Bye, Ashlynn." I look over at her because I just can't keep my eyes off her.

She sticks her tongue out at me, scrunches her nose, and says. "God, I regret leaving already." Then she bolts out of the car as I laugh at how fucking cute she looked like that.

She goes back inside, probably to collect her sister, and I drive down the street and park, just in case she takes up my offer to sleep in my room.

With nothing else to do, I play the radio, squeezing and prodding my finger that Ashlynn glued together.

Yeah, that girl has left me with a scar.

I go to work on the bottle of tequila hoping to minimize the damage. When there's an inch left, I've convinced myself what a close call that was. A girl like that? That's not what I want. A girl like that takes you from fun and games to falling hard and fast.

I can't do that. I want the rock star life. A girl like that, she deserves something different.

"Tequila, tequila, tequila," I say to the nearly empty bottle. "You almost got me in big trouble. I'm done with you. Well, just as soon as I'm done with you." I laugh at my own stupid drunk joke, and kill the bottle.

————————————————

Leed, today, five year's later, at his "good-buddy" Tamara's rehearsal dinner.

Ashlynn is shining tonight.

I remember the night I met her like it was yesterday.

I remember catching her eye just like now, the smell of tequila wafting into the heat of our locked gaze.

I remember her light. I remember craving her presence.

I remember thinking it was the tequila that made me feel like that.

I remember swearing off.

It's funny how that was a lie.

Five years later, I am sitting here drinking the same top shelf tequila, drowning that craving, chasing it with lime.

Because it's so much safer than chasing that girl.

Who would have guessed Leed and Ash made such a connection from their first meeting?!?! Thoughts on this opener? Excited for their story?

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