Chapter 47: Drummer Boys Dress To Impress The Wrong People

A little short transition before Bodie goes to "take care of business." I like the way Bodie and Marley's relationship is evolving. I think this chapter illustrates...

Bodie

I pull on a shirt a little slower than I normally would, because Marley is watching me dress in my closet.

Even though we've been living together for three months, this new vibe is way different. We're actin' like kids—flexin' and preenin' for each other. She's wandered back into my closet after going to her own room—where her clothes still reside at the moment.

She's returned in a short little beige skirt, a loose dusky blue tunic, ankle boots, and some long necklaces. I notice a little extra swing in her hips when she saunters in.

I toss a pair of Ray-Ban Aviators down, my interest in Marley's look completely eclipsing my own. Never seen her in a skirt that short. Well, not since the old days.

"That's a hella hot set 'a legs, Mama. If you're sellin', I'm buyin'. What time do they re-open?"

"For you? I'm open twenty-four-seven," she pops right back.

This girl. So fun. I give her my rock star smile and draw her close, patting her bottom, because I can't stop touching her now.

"Cute," I peck her lips. "Your outfit, too."

"Thanks."

The gams are gorgeous, the outfit is alluring, but it's not her typical hang—at-home style.

"You going out, too?" I ask, as she shifts by me to close the five drawers hanging open in the built-ins. I open another shallow drawer, reaching for a black pair of D&G sunglasses and hooking them on my shirt.

"Yes. I called Ashlynn. We're having lunch."

I nod. This is also new. Us separating for the day, I mean. I'm sort of surprised. Marley has been sticking to me like glue for months. But she's not my sober companion anymore and she accepted my heads-up that I need some space today to do my shady shit, so I think it's awesome if she has her own plans. It will keep her from worrying about me.

"That's good. I'm glad. I'm sure she could use a friend."

"She's keeping busy. That helps, after a break-up. Cam's doing better with this round of chemo, but it's still a lot to handle...his appointments, his care. Plus, her wellness regimen..."

I nod silently. I guess the Rev and Adam are rubbing off on me, because I find myself saying a little prayer for Sunny's sobriety. I hope to god she hasn't thrown all her hard work away in the mess of a break-up that none of us really understand.

"Maybe you guys should do a little high-end retail therapy," I suggest.

"Not a good idea for the about-to-be-unemployed. Calling Riley to officially resign is also on my to-do list today."

"That's cool, but I seriously hope you are kidding about the first statement. You do not need to worry about money. Use the household accounts. And Ashlynn can definitely help you choose some appearance clothes. She's been around the LA scene plenty. We'll be going out a lot in LA, you know..."

"You know what I've been thinking? The truth is...I don't have to go to those appearances now. I'm not your sober companion. I'm going to trust you to stay sober on your own, and you're scheduled to make all those appearance with Arabella. Frankly, Bodie...I really can't swallow the idea of being a third wheel. Maybe we should just resolve the Darius issue by me staying here with him, not coming to LA with you."

I snatch the sunglasses off my shirt and toss them down because they are bugging me. "Marley. Come on. Don't be like this. I do not want to go to LA without you. I want you to experience what the Soundcrush life is really like. The Arabella situation will be over in less than a month. I swear to fuck we're breaking up the day after the Grammy's, and after that it's strictly business—"

"I know, Bodie. I'm not trying to make a big deal. I'm just throwing out ideas here. Okay, so maybe I still go to LA, but I'm not watching you fake date her from five paces behind, okay?"

Fuck. I grit my teeth together. I want to argue with her, because I want her with me. To me, Marley is my woman and Arabella is nothing more than an acting job.

Just like in a video or some kind of promotion. How many women have I pretended to be wrapped up in over the last few years? Dozens.

After the cameras stopped rolling, we had virtually nothing to say to each other, because we were strangers. But at the same time I know it's completely shitty to ask Marley to watch the Bells and Bodie Show, since the chemistry Arabella and I project really bothers her.

Can I really fault her? Unlike a video actress, Arabella is not a stranger. And the chemistry used to be real. As unbelievable and distant as it feels now, intellectually I remember that nine months ago, I was highly attracted to Arabella.

She's kinda like a drug, I guess. I liked that roller coaster of sexual highs and emotional lows.

So as diplomatically as possible, I say, "That makes me sad, Jaz. I can't even think about leaving you out of the fun, because of a few photo-ops with Bells. But I understand your feelings. I respect that."

Marley blinks at me and bites her lip. "I don't want you to be sad."

I take her by the hips. "So let's find a compromise. I'll cancel some of the appearances.  Let me take you out in LA privately. LA is fun place. It doesn't have to be all industry parties. There's great restaurants, jazz clubs, museums. We can make separate fun."

She closes one eye and gives me a squint. "Won't Trace and Riley be upset if you're not doing what the label wants?"

"Fuck them."

"No, not fuck them, they are your fam—"

"Fuck. Them. You are my family. Trace does exactly what the hell he pleases, but he can do no wrong with the label because he's a del Marco prince now. Riley works for us. And the label? The truth is...the bullshit going down there is...something else entirely. Something personal coming from up above.

"The appearances are going to be a pain in my ass. I'm expected to show up for Colossal, but now the legit press is going to ignore Bells and she's going to get pissed. Still, the bloggers will cover her and she needs that press for what's coming down the pipe with B-side. So I need to strike a balance there. I have to take her out, some.  I've invested a lot of money in her career, at this point. I'm expecting a return on that, just like Avery. It's business, baby.

"As far as Colossal liking or not liking my appearances choices, or my side project at B-side, as long as Soundcrush is making them money—which we are—we are gonna record a new single Leed wrote as soon as we get to LA and drop it immediately so we can perform it before the Grammy's—I'm not worried about label politics. And you shouldn't be either. Because in this business, there's hardly anything that ever trumps the bottom line." I kiss her on top of the head.

She looks up at me with trusting eyes. That's a new look, born from the recent bloom of feelings between us. It grips my heart to see that look.

"You're really being strategic about all this.  I see that now. Ok. I'm gonna stay in my lane when it comes to your career."

I shake my head. "You're in my lane—in my car—when it comes to my career." I wink at her as I pick up the sunglasses and put them on. "You're just...riding shotgun, is all."

Marley crosses her arms, smiles at my clothes and changes the subject. "Are you tryna make a statement with that outfit?"

I'm wearing black jeans, black shoes, black t-shirt, black sunglasses.

"What do you think?"

"I'm not sure if you are going for gangbanger, rock star, or general bad guy?"

"Banger, of course. How can you not tell that?"

"Uhhhhhm, it's the same clothes you wear on stage?"

"That is absolutely not true. Check the kicks," I hold up a foot, covered in Black Gucci. "Obviously, these scream gangster. If I were a rock star today, I'd be wearing those," I gesture to a scuffed, worn pair of Docs. "Plus my jeans would be skin-tight and ripped, not looser and pressed."

"Oh. I see. And if you were a run of the mill bad guy?"

"Oh, I'd wear those," I gesture to a pair of sk8ter shoes, good for going quiet-like. "And a black hoodie," I add, offhandedly.

Marley makes the sexy snort. I haven't heard that in a while. The top-shelf tonguing I gave her has relaxed her mood. She seems different. The way she laughs, the way she's swinging her hips. Even though we had words about Arabella again, she doesn't seem to be frustrated or angry about it. She seems...freer. Like her old self. It feels incredible to know that I have that effect on her.

I kiss her again. Keeping my hands off Marley whenever she is near me is going to be problem now that I've had my first real taste of her. That's another reason I need her in LA. It's going to be one long party, and I need her to quell my cravings.

Yeah, I'm an addict. There's no getting around it. My brain craves reward. At least sex with the woman you love is a healthy addiction.

But it's time to put thoughts of sex and rocknroll aside.

It's time to deal with the drugs.