Surprise surprise...we get to hear from Matt in this chapter! This was also pretty fun to write, because we see a new side of Matt. He's not the crazy rock star dad, here...more like the bad-ass of his youth...
Matt del Marco
I'm only half aware of the back pats, congrats, and "see ya's at your place" as I climb over seats in the aftermath of the show. Lots of cameras flash as I vault over one last row and swoop up my Doodle in a bear hug.
"So proud of you, Rowan," I kiss her forehead. "Your talent and your drive just won't be suppressed, not even by your dick of an overprotective father."
She smiles and I think I see an extra glimmer of sheen to her grey eyes that are so like mine and her brothers, but then she shuts down her softness and scowls. "Don't try to kiss my ass. I know it was your idea to leave Strut out of the show opener."
That's true, but it was strictly strategic decision at this point. I didn't want Strut to be eclipsed by Dev and Mac's powerhouse performance, or the Skids Marcs-Soundcrush tour announcement. Coming off their Grammy, they'll get top billing at the AMA'sin a couple of months. These girls deserve their own spotlight.
"Sorry, Baby, but producers make those calls," I lie to her. "But Strut's star is rising, you can bank on it now. I better get my five seconds of shared fame with you, before mine burns out. Bring it in, girls," I tell these young women, most of whom I've known since they wore pigtails and too much pre-teen makeup. A professional roaming photographer snaps a picture. "Make sure Angelo Moran gets that for the wall at Colossal," I tell him and he grins, "Sure thing, Matt!"
I give more hugs all around, and hustle back over the seats to Marianne. I'm pretty fucking tired, and my foot catches on the last seat I try to hurdle, falling hard against one of our security guys, who rights me quickly, but not quick enough that my spill misses Annie's eyes.
She tucks herself beneath my shoulder. "Worn out from frolicking onstage with your most famous fangirl?"
"Damn straight. Too old for that shit--dancing on pianos with chics half my age."
Annie's not the least bit phased by my onstage flirtation with Mac, even though it had slipped my mind to tell her it was planned. She's the strongest, most self-confident woman I know, and that's one of the reasons I love her and a big part of why we are so rock solid.
Thirty years of seeing me make out with hotties in videos, bringing fans on stage to sing to, and even the shitpots of lies about me cheating, that show up in the tabloids during every tour...Marianne weathers it all without jealousy. I'm no saint, and I'm not saying there weren't temptations in the early years, but I've never been unfaithful to her and she knows it. She's sure in my love, and I couldn't have kept this Skid Marcs bus on the road all this time if we didn't have the trust we do.
My girl is now beaming at me, making me feel seventeen. "You'll never be too old for this. The opener was fantasticâ hilarious and rock hard, too."
I'm honestly glad to hear her so say, because she'd tell me the truth if the "skit" had bombed. "Thanks, baby. I was nervous as shit about the acting part."
She pats my chest. "You were pitch perfect. But your protege stole the show. He's a helluva performer," she gives Leed a nod.
It's a little strange to think of Leed as a protege. I typically think of Row as my "protege" but now I have this weird split with Trace and his bandmates. God knows, every single one of themneed a little guidance in this rock star life. As much as Trace needs a dad he can trust, he also needs a mentor that he knows how to keep a band together and relevant. Adam and Mac need the example of a marriage in the business. Bodie is like Rowâhe needs a swift kick in the ass to adjust his attitude, and he needs to know a father figure has his back no matter what, but I haven't had time to deal with his tough act bullshit, because Leed has been giving me fits professionally these last couple of weeks.
I thought Leed had a pretty even character until his break-up reduced him to a puddle of tequila.
Still, I know how loving a woman can make you crazy while you're still trying to come to terms with it, so even though he made our weeks of rehearsals frustrating as fuck, I've been cutting him as much slack as I possibly could. Thank god he pulled his shit together yesterday and went from stumbling drunk to flawless.
Marianne's right, the kid's not just another singer. He's the triple threatâhe can sing, act, moveâhold an audience in the palm of his hand.
My thoughts unconsciously draw my eye to the Lion. Just like all week at rehearsals, the Blue Devil is whispering in his ear.
The only times Leed seemed to be sober at all this week were in this hushed conversations with Dev. At first I thought Dev was simply his break-up confidante, but the longer their private tête-à -tête went on, the more I became convinced that something else was going on there.
Leed's vibe this week was way beyond simple break-up. He's got too much angerâand seeing that kiss he gave Ashlynn during the performanceâit's not directed at her.
Yeah there's something else going on there.
Whatever it is, judging from the way Dev and Leed are booking it out of this place by the side entranceâwhatever's going on, it's going down right now.
I watch the two of them radiating hostility as push their way to a side-door, and I watch Ashlynn âpretty little belle in her ball gownâwatching them go. She really is a flowerâa gentle, radiant thing of rare beauty. And I think about those pictures of herâher flesh brutally carved. It's strange that both Leed and Trace and Riley have been so quiet about the investigation to find that guyâ
"Matt? Babe?"
I look down at Marianne, my own angel in a red dress, who's never known anything worse at the hands of a man than my stupid immature behavior. I piss her off sometimes, hurt her sometimes, but she's never known any kind of real brutality. I watch the door closing behind Leed, thinking what I might feel if I knew that another man had abused the woman I loveâ physically, mentally, emotionally...
My eyes flick to a third person, making his way to catch up with Leed and Dev. Trace, feeling the weight of my stare on his back, gives me one quick glance before he looking away with determination.
My dad radar goes off. My son is following his best friend into trouble. And with that fucking thug Dev in the mix stirring them both up, it could very well be real serious trouble.
"Fine, babe," I pull Marianne to me and give her a quick kiss. "Listen, you're gonna kill me..."
"Matt, no. You are not skipping out on your own party!" she hisses.
I grin at her. She knows how much I love to party but hate to host. It's not the first time I've ducked my own shin-dig. "I'll be there before anybody even gets naked in the pool, I promise. Just gotta make a stop first-- with the kids." I gesture to him swinging through the door behind Leed. "Business."
She searches my face. "Networking for the tour?"
I give her a shrug that she takes for my exasperation with the tour details and slip away with a kiss to her hand. Girls never get tired of the hand kiss, and I'm no fool, I know how to charm my woman to get my way when I really need to. I give her one more, I'm-gonna-fuck-you-real-good-later-look and she blushes and rolls her eyes at me even as I'm moving away from her.
She bats a hand at me. "Do not show up piss drunk!" She yells at me and grabs on to Dominic's shoulders to follow him through the press of people.
I make my way out of the backstage maze just in time to see Trace getting in a Mercedes with Varrick Von driving.
Von is the new guy that bought out my old security firm last year. When he bought the company, I persuaded my details to leave and I installed them under an umbrella firm âheaded by a guy that had a lot more time securing in the show, and someone I knew personally. That had more to do with knowing more people in the business than with any problem I had with Von. He has a good background, but was unproven in the business and personally unknown to me. I don't leave my family's safety to somebody I don't know.
Is Trace needing some kind of security or muscle for whatever is going down with Leed and Dev? And where the hell did they go anyway?
As he and Von drive away, pure instincts directs me. I hop in the shotgun seat of a waiting limo. The driver is startled to say the least.
"I'm...I'm sorry? This limo is for Grayson Puckett..."
"Not anymore," I flash a money clip of cash and peel off a thousand dollars. "Follow that Mercedes."
The guy thinks it over for a second. He clearly knows who I am. "Fuck Puckett. He's a douche anyway."
We roll out. I'm not surprised when Varrick rolls into the small parking garage attached to the Sentinel office. I'm thinking Varrick is dealing in shady muscle as well as legit security and Trace is must be hiring some bruisers to rough up the asshole that hurt Ashlynn.
I'm glad to see the kid is smart enough not to handle this shit personally but I'm about to make sure his assurances for this dirty business are iron clad. I'm all for a little vigilante justice for that psycho-fucking-path, but I can't have it blowing back on Trace or Leed. Or even the Blue Devil, because my poodle is falling hard for that kid.
Still...as I watch them enter the building together, there's something to the set of Trace's shoulders that makes not want unknown limo drivers hanging around here. I tell the guy to drop me around the corner and go.
"Are you sure?" he asks, looking around at the business district, which is nearly deserted.
"Yeah, I gotta renegotiate a business deal that's going down right now," I gesture to the building, praying I'm able to bust up whatever is happening, because this driver clearly saw my son enter with Varrick. "They're both headed to my party after, I'll catch a ride with them."
I peel off another thousand dollars and hesitate, looking him over. He's probably in his late thirties, pretty boy, and has a cool vibe. Limo Driver is definitely just his bill-payer. He's got LA dreams."You gotta card?"
He gives me his card. I feel a weight lift off me when it says, "Reed Blackston, Professional Musician. Keys, strings, horns, percussion. Available for Studio and live performance."
"You any good?"
He grins. "Yeah. I just never got my break, you know?"
"You and thousands, brother."
"Would love the chance to prove how good..."
"Okay, Reed. I'll keep that in mind. Listen," I lean in close, and gesture to the building. "You didn't drive me here, okay? The kid...he likes to handle his own business, but sometimes a dad has to look out, you know what I'm saying?"
"Gotcha man. I'm like the grave. No tip-offs to bloggers, none of that bullshit. You can count on me." He's solemn; I think he means it.
Unfortunately, buying off Reed is where my cloak and dagger shit ends. Of course a security company would have locked doors, and it's after hours, so there's no lobby guard I can sweet talk.
I call Trace, he doesn't answer. I text him.
Call me. Now.
Ten minutes later, I'm still fuming in the small parking garage beside the building, having tried the office access from there, too.
I'm not used to being ignored.
Ten more minutes and I hear Varrick and Trace in discussion as they exit the building and enter the garage. For whatever reasonâan instinct in my gutâI slip between two over-sized security vans, concealing my presence.
"I really appreciate you coming to me with this, Trace. Ben is a straight up dude and a consummate professional, but I understand your concerns."
"Thanks. Whatever happens between Leed and Tamara and Ben, I just wanted you to know that my concerns with Ben aren't personal. I love the guy and I hate what's going down. But I can't have him securing my girlfriend when Leed and Tamara are around."
"No of course. In that situation, his attention is clearly compromised."
"Great, I'll look these new candidates over..." Trace and Varrick pass in front of the alley where I'm standing in shadows. Trace pauses. "Awww, shit man. I left my phone inside. Do you mind?" he reaches out for Varrick's keycard.
Von gives him a long look, but says, "Not at all. I'll be in the car."
When Trace enters the building, Varrick pulls out his phone. After a pause, I hear him speaking, as if leaving a voicemail.
"Ashlynn, I really hope you get this message very soon. I'm with Trace and he knows. So either you told him or Leed. He's inside my office right now probably looking for videos of our past...association. Which you and I both know, he won't find here. When he comes out of the building without finding what he's looking for, I'm fairly sure one of us is about to seriously damaged. It's not going to be me, my dear. Call your ex off before I have to hurt him."
Motherfuck.
So this Von asshole is Ashlynn's ex Dom.
He strolls casually past my hiding place like he's not a goddamn psycho that deserves his dick lopped off, and I dodge around the front of the van, against the garage wall, watching as he opens the trunk of his car and removes a gun from a storage case, shoving it beneath his suit jacket.
Motherfuckingmotherfuck.
In my agitation to move around the other side of the van, so I can stop Trace from approaching him, I kick a loose brick at the bottom of the wall, and it makes an echoey thud as it falls from the wall.
"Hello?" Varrick calls, and I can hear his footfalls coming closer.
Just then, I hear the door click open and Trace says, "Found it!"
"Really?" Von's voice is full of sarcasm as he moves forward toward Trace. "Found everything you were looking for?"
Trace has his rock star face on but I see his shoulders raise and his fists clench. "Yeah, my phone, on your desk where I left it."
"I think it's time we cut the shit, don't you?" Von says, and from where I am standing I can't see him. I can't see what's going on. I can't see if he's reaching for his gun.
I do what any father would do. I pick up the brick, dash behind the fucker and go big. I conk the fuck out of the back of his head with all the force the brick and I can bring.
He makes an impressive thud as he crumples. He's out cold.
I stare at him unmoving on the ground. My own disbelieving laugh echoes in the garage.
"Holy shit, I can't believe that actually worked," I say.
Trace's face is pale. He looks shocked and...scared.
"You could have fucking killed him!" Trace hisses.
"I had to. See?" I pull Varrick's coat aside to show Trace the gun in at his back.
"Fuck," is all Trace can manage.
I take off my suit jacket and use the fabric to tease it out of his pants, making sure the safety is on and folding it up in my jacket. Then I roll him over and drop to my knees, leaning close to Varrick and feeling for a pulse.
I lean back on my haunches, realizing for the first time that I'm sweating profusely and my heart is pounding. "Thank fuck," I breathe. "He's alright, just knocked out. I've been in my share of barfights, but I've never actually clobbered somebody with a deadly weapon." I toss the brick, rubbing the sweat off my face with a sleeve. "Jesus, Trace...I'm too old to parent a reckless little shit like you."
"Me? Reckless? You just tried to take his head off! What the fuck are you doing here, anyway?"
"What am I doing here? What the fuck are you doing here? I gathered from the voice mail that Von just made to Ashlynn that he's the sick fuck who hurt her. You thought it would be a good idea to try to beat the shit out of him in a parking garage? Alone? Son, you don't bring your fists to a gun fight."
Trace has his hands on his head, still staring down at Von. "Are you sure he's okay? You hit him really fucking hard. He could have what Ashlynn had...a hemotoma...she almost died."
"Don't worry about this piece of shit," I say tersely, rising and kicking him over. "Assholes don't die easily. I'm much more concerned about the dumbass plan you're working here. A beating is not the solution to a problem like Von."
Trace glares at me. "A beating wasn't the plan. The plan was just to distract Von, to make sure I knew where he was and to get inside Sentinel, to get thisâ" he holds up an extra key card. "And to turn the lobby security camera, so that we could break back in later and sneak up the elevators. Right now Leed and Dev are tossing his house, looking for evidence. If they don't find what we need for the police, then they were supposed to come here next, while I kept Von occupied at your party."
"Evidence. You mean the evidence of his...scenes...with Ashlynn?" I rub my face. "Son, that's some fucked up shit, but I don't think porn videos of BDSM are a crime. At least not until he attacked her with a knife, but I doubt he recorded that."
"That's not the evidence I mean. We want to destroy the videos of course, if we find them. But...Von's college girlfriend disappeared, never to be seen again. Leed thinks he killed her. He likes trophies, right? We need to see if there's proof he killed her."
"Are you fucking serious?"
Trace nods solemnly.
Goddamn. Life can turn on a dime. Four hours ago, my biggest worry was a tv performance. Now I'm whacking a potential murderer with a brick. What the fuck do I do next?
I pace for a second and reach the conclusion that I have to do what I do best.
Rock on and improvise.
Trace is talking. "Dad, we...I...think we have to...fuck...I think we have to call an ambulance," He's pale, staring at Von.
This is Trace's worst nightmare. Right now, we're standing in a parking garage over an unconscious asshole that carved up a little girl, but Trace's head is back in his house, holding that same girl while her head and her life bled out in his hands.
Fuck. I'm no stranger to violence when it's necessary, but I never wanted Trace to see me like he sees Ross Gallant. Still, calling an ambulanceâallowing Varrick Von to play the victimâ is not what we are going to do here.
No fucking way.
I approach Trace slowly, grab him by the wrist, and pull him willingly over to the unconscious Varrick, forcing him to crouch. I put Trace's fingers to Varrick's throat.
"Feel that? Strong, steady." I put Trace's hand in front of Varrick's nose. "His breathing is fine. He's not gonna die, okay? Not on my watch." I spit on him. "Death is too good for this fucker."
Trace's eyes look to mine, questioning. "We're not calling an ambulance, are we?"
"No," I say grimly. "Get his feet."
We put him in the trunk. Conveniently, Varrick's trunk is equipped with the tools of his trade and we are able to do him up right.
"Jesus," Trace whispers as he stares down at a bound and gagged prisoner.
I slam the trunk shut.
"Don't worry about it. Let's go."
"Where?" Trace looks at me blankly.
"His place," I say. "Isn't that where Leed and Dev are right now?"
"Yeah, but what then?"
I shrug. "We make him tell us about the girlfriend."
Trace closes his eyes. "Do I even want to know how we are going to do that?"
I slap Trace on the shoulder and force him to look at me. "Don't worry, Son. I'm pretty sure the Lion and the Blue Devil will be more than happy to handle that part."
Oh wow, Matt has taken down the wrong guy!!! I always knew Matt was the real bad-ass of this series!!!
What do you think is gonna happen to when Leed and Dev start to "interrogate" him?Varrick's tables have turned--the former operative is going to receive the prisoner treatment!
And how long is all this going to take? Because I'm worried Slade is going move quickly with Ashlynn...