Chapter 60: Smart Girls Are Still Counselors

Marley Two Weeks Later

There are two basic paradigms that drive all theories on human development, personality, and motivation.

Nature versus nurture.

I used to come down on the side of nurture. People turn out like they do because of the things that happen to them.

For example? Trace's aggression and occasionally difficult personality?I have always assumed those traits come from his traumatic childhood experiences.

After two and half weeks of dealing with Matt del Marco? Now I'm not so sure.

Because just like Trace, Matt del Marco has a Savior Complex. He absolutely can not stand to see someone he claims as his own in trouble. He'll do anything—even act like an absolute asshole—to save someone he loves.

And he's determined to save Leed before he drinks himself to death. Even if he has to bust a few heads in the process.

Today? My head, specifically.

I'm standing in the way of his well-meaning but misguided "treatment plan" for Leed's situational alcoholism.

For two weeks, Matt and I have been building to a confrontation over Leed's problems. Matt's been bringing his boutique doctor in case Leed needs medical intervention. In fact, about a week ago, the doctor started giving Leed an IV drip hangover cure every morning. Even after Bodie takes him surfing, he's still too hungover to muster enough energy to learn his choreography for the giant December Dawn dance number or memorize his lines for the skit they are supposed to perform with Skid Marcs. He's just not performing up to par.

He knows it and he doesn't care. It's that bad.

But Matt's way of solving the problem isn't working for me. Or Leed.

I have no problem with the saline, the B vitamins, the anti-nausea meds, the Ibuprofen in the drip. The problem is, I caught the doctor trying to slip Leed some Antabuse into the bag, per Matt's suggestion.

Antabuse is a drug that blocks the effects of alcohol, and apparently Matt used it quite effectively during his last and successful attempt to reign in his heavy drinking over fifteen years ago. But Leed doesn't want it and Matt can't understand why I refuse to let the doc give it to him without consent.

"Sometimes kids don't like the love you give 'em, but you give it anyway. He needs help! You are letting him drink himself to death, you know that, right? I've been where he is and I was damn near close to dyin' a couple of times. He ain't that far away from not waking up one morning. I don't get you! You'll save Jamison with methadone but you won't save the Lion with a similar drug?!?!"

"That is completely different. Bodie is fully engaged in his recovery. Leed is not ready to do this for himself. You can't force someone into sobriety. Leed is not your teenage child. He's an adult and he does not want to take that drug, and he's right not to. You know damn well from your own treatment that Disulfiram is not recommended when someone is still actively binging. It could be dangerous and it will definitely make him sick."

"That's the fucking point!" Matt yells. "Behavioral training, since he's acting like a lovesick puppy! Every time he drinks he will wish he was dead! He'll decide real fucking quick he doesn't really want to die and he'll sober the fuck up! Because if he doesn't, either he's going to kill himself or Jamison is gonna let him drown out there in the goddamn ocean. That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard, by the way—taking a half-drunk dude surfing...or surfing in general. What kind of fools offer themselves up for sharkbait and call it soothing?"

Aaaaah. There's another trigger for Matt. Not only is he very concerned about Leed's health, he is terrified of the ocean.

Bodie is not taking Leed out drunk. He's very careful only to take him out when he's sobered up, just hungover. Admittedly, he's not at 100%, but I trust Bodie's judgment and they are also taking two security guys that are certified as lifeguards if Leed should get in trouble.

"Matt, I know you are very worried about him, and I know you had a traumatic experience in the surf recently, and I know your style is to fight fear with aggression—"

"You're over the goddamn line!" He backs off, raising his hands just like Trace does when he's overwhelmed. "You are not my Dr. Watkins! Do the job you were fucking hired to do! Handle your people and stop head-shrinking me!" He storms off.

"Hey Matt!" Bodie is on his heels. "You talk to Marley like that again, you gon' catch these hands, and I don't give a fuck how many Grammy's you have or whose daddy you are."

"Fuck you Jamison! You ain't doing her any favors, tryna fight her battles! You think I'm the biggest asshole she's going to run across? Think the fuck again because Soundcrush ain't got no bigger fan that me. I'm trying to help you kids not go through the shit Skid Marcs has been through!" Matt growls. Bodie pops back. Their cursing fades as the bust through the metal doors of the rehearsal hall.

I'm not worried about them. They'll go outside, stand twenty feet apart, smoking together as they hurl profanities at each other, but it will actually calm them both down.

I trust Bodie completely not to escalate his anger with Matt, and there's nothing in Matt that has shown me he would actually get physical with Bodie either. He's very aware of Trace's trauma.

No, Matt and Bodie are just blowing off steam.

Trace, on the other hand? He's slid down the wall, bumping his head in a way that makes me want to wrap him in my arms, like a little boy.

Mine are not the arms he needs, though.

I call Kat.

"Hey! How are rehearsals going?" she answers breathlessly. The girl is always breathless. She reminds me so much of me at her age. Always on the run, racing toward the finish line of adulthood.

I was doing it for Darius, but she is doing it for Trace. She has the idea that their real life will start as soon as she graduates from college and gets settled into her career, and she's busting her ass to make it happen as soon as possible. She's trying to catch up to his level of life experience. She wants it all—education, a career, but also a celebrity status that puts her on par with his power.

I get it, I really do. In fact, maybe part of the reason I took this job was to prove to Bodie that I can shine in his world—that I'm not just Jaz from the hood or some stuffy nerd with a phD.

But the problem with Trace and Kat?

Their careers aren't drawing them closer. They are pulling them apart. Almost  all of Trace's counseling sessions in the last three months have centered on the disconnection he feels with her. He's very concerned about it. Something Ashlynn told him a few months ago has stuck with him.

"Ashlynn said she read somewhere that love is just a neurochemical thing and that it only lasts eighteen months. After that, love dies and all you have left is your...routine and your common goals. Do you think that's true? Because it's been a year now and there's some truth to the fact that the physical love is...not what it was. I mean, I can see Kat without automatically needing to be as close to her as possible. And sometimes I get irritated with her over stupid shit, although I try not to make a big deal. And then I think...are the sexy feels dying and the grown up kind of love that is supposed to be coming on...isnt'? We aren't there. Kat and I don't have a goddamn routine and there's never anytime to talk about our future..."

I know that that love can last because Bodie and I didn't even have any contact for thirteen years and the minute we kissed, it was still there. The undefinable thing—the perfect fit of our souls. I told Trace this, and he smiled and nodded and then he said,

"Okay, yeah. I didn't see Kat for nearly three years and the same. Even more because she finally grew up. But why the hell is it so fucking hard to feel close to someone day after day? It's like...I miss her even when I'm with her. She's never present. She's always on goddamn Instagram or studying or on the phone with Marianne or Ashlynn...I gave her that promise ring to show her how much I love her and you know what? She called everyone in her goddamn phone and she spent two hours on an Instagram shot. That irritated me and to be honest...we didn't even...consummate the promise until the next day. And I don't even think she realized how much that bothered me—how distracted she was. How the moment became a public thing and not a private thing."

"And that is on you, Trace. For not expressing your real feelings. Every time she does something that hurts you? You brush it aside. You say you don't have a right to be angry because of the Ashlynn scenario. And that's just not true. Kat forgave you for the past and you both have a right to your feelings in this relationship."

"She's young..." he sighs, again automatically defending her.

"Yes, that's true Trace. And she's a bit caught up in her celebrity, and I'm sure you can relate to that, right?"

"Yeah, I went through that. The money, the image, the cars, the Instagram followers, the VIP in the clubs, the fangirls. It was fucking thrilling."

"And you also know...it was a phase, right?"

"Yeah. Didn't last that long, actually."

"You know what else is a phase?"

"What?"

"A rut, in an otherwise loving and healthy relationship."

"You think we are just in a rut?"

"I am not in the relationship, but from outward appearances, it seems like that could be the case. There are always peaks and valleys, Trace."

"We are both...just very busy."

"In that case, you should talk to her about it. Communication is key, and small adjustments can change your perception of closeness in a relationship. Maybe she makes more effort to put down the phone. Maybe you make more effort to take her out without an entourage."

"I do that, don't I?" he admits grimly. "Try to date her in the middle of SCIC?"

"A little," I concede. "Maybe she doesn't feel like you value her undivided attention because you are always center stage in the middle of your band and entourage. And I'm willing to bet that what you see as disconnection? She sees as a complete trust in you and a complete faith in your future. She's not worried about it because she trusts it will come, and right now she's focused on achieving...working hard to meet you where you are. She wants a career that matches your energy."

"She doesn't have to. She doesn't have to do a damn thing, except...be with me."

"Yes she does. Not for you. For her."

"Okay. Yeah, I see that. I know that."

"But you don't like it."

"Not worth a fucking damn. I just...want to take care of her."

"I don't think she would be the girl you fell in love with if she let you. That comes at a price. If she sacrifices her self-respect? Her autonomy? Becomes nothing more than your arm candy? Your beloved, but powerless prize? That might be the path to fading love..."

He banged his head against the wall that day, too. Like he was trying to beat in the truth he has so much trouble accepting.

"Marley?" Kat interrupts my memory of our most recent session.

"Rehearsals are not going well. I think Trace could use a happy place."

"I just got out of class. I'm already on my way, actually."

"Great. Thank you. Kat—how are you? I mean...I know you have finals..."

"I'm great! I just took my last one and I'm on personal leave from MdM for the tour. I am all about my rocknroll summer now! And my rock star...of course. You can concentrate on Leed's liver. And slaying Slade," she whispers.

At the mention of our plan to entrap a man that is most likely truly a psychopath, my heart begins to pound.

Managing rock stars is a challenge. But playing mind games with a psychopath? That scares the fuck out of me.

Yet, there's no other way to help Ashlynn without risking Soundcrush's career.

"Did Ashlynn get the drugs?" Kat whispers.

"Yes."

I swallowed my pride a couple of weeks ago and called Daemon, explaining that I needed to acquire some Devil's Breath— a very rare street drug that would make someone incredibly subject to suggestion. Daemon was more than happy to acquire some for me. He was absolutely thrilled that I am still just as shady as he is. He said he didn't even care what I wanted it for, as long as I wasn't using it on Bodie.

"Can't risk my partnership with him just for you to negotiate your pre-nup, Jaz."

Once I assured him I wasn't not trying to swindle Bodie out of his fortune, he tracked some down in a matter of days. TJ helped. He was there when Daemon tested it out. Once they were sure it worked to bend people's wills, TJ met with Ashlynn and schooled her on how to administer it without killing someone.

"And Tamara is all set?"

"Yes. She's got the transformation kit all set up."

I didn't want to involve Bodie's cousin, but Ashlynn is the one that told her everything. Tamara is at her wit's end with Leed and her marriage is in serious trouble because of her concern for him. Ashlynn feels responsible for that, so she told Tamara everything. So much made sense to Tamara that hadn't before, and she is now very committed to helping Ashlynn free herself of Slade's hold.

"So we are just waiting on Ashlynn to come back to LA, and for her to attract Slade's attention. The next move is his," Kat summarizes.

"Yep. As soon as Ashlynn makes contact with him, we have to be ready to execute the plan at any time."

"I know. But she needs to do something big to catch his attention because I don't want to leave her in LA alone with him we go out on tour..."

"I know." My taking this job has accelerated the Slade time table somewhat. There's no way both Kat and I can have a believable emergency that would pull us off the tour at the same time. "I've been thinking about that too. Ashlynn has an idea that I think works best. I think it will accomplish two aims at once, actually."

"What's that?"

"Getting Slade's attention and giving Leed some motivation to sober up. She's decided to come to the Grammy's."

"Oh shit. That's in less than a week!"

"I know. And Slade could make a move at any time after that. Are you really sure you want to do this, Kat? I think maybe we should hire someone—a woman with some kind of combat training."

"No way. Have you seen the pictures of Megan? Ash and I could be dopplegangers. Me even more than her because I'm younger. In a blonde wig with the right makeup?"

"True," I say. "Okay. Let me think about a way to increase our safety factor. I think we need more personal protection built into this plan."

"Okay, you do that. I am not above shooting this motherfucker if he tries to hurt Ash again."

"Nobody's shooting anybody," I tell her.

Least of all Kat. If it came to that...I wonder if Daemon has any gang connections out here in LA. He was in prison a long time...I bet he has a whole network of people.

"I'm just sayin' if it comes down to it—"

"Stop. Just stop. I promise, I'm going to keep us all safe, okay?"

"Ok. Well we don't have to worry about that today. Today we have to worry about rehearsals. Tell Trace I'll be there in half an hour."

"Okay."

I join Trace, holding up the wall. "You okay, TG?" I've adopted Mac's nickname for him. It suits him.

He shakes his head no. "Jesus, Marley. I'm so fucking sorry he's such an asshole to you."

"Matt is many things, but he is most definitely not an asshole. I think he's scared to death Leed is going to drown, or Bodie is going to get eaten by a shark."

Trace's gaze snaps to mine. "Shit. You're right. I didn't even think of that. Still, he shouldn't take it out on you—"

"He's not. He'll come back in a minute and apologize and he and I will be good. He's just expressing his frustration. Matt is not a problem. In fact he's a great guy who is just a little difficult to deal with at times because he reacts to stress with aggression. Just like this patient I have...my favorite patient actually. Also a really good guy, and he's working really hard to grow..."

Trace smiles.

"I just talked to Kat," I encourage. "She's on her way."

His smile goes technicolor. "She's finished. She's free."

"And she's all about the rock star life. For the summer."

He nods, pushing up against the wall, getting his feet underneath him. "I know. I'm fucking psyched about that. It's gonna be a great time...if we can get Leed straight."

"Ashlynn is coming to the Grammy's," I tell him.

His eyes go wide. He clasps his hands in front of his forehead and closes his eyes. "Thank fuck!"

Leed is lying on a couch, getting his drip. He walks over to Leed and sits down on the couch. I don't intervene.

I've already figured Leed out. He doesn't need counseling from me, and he's not an alcoholic. He's far more spiritually balanced than I am.

He is just in terrible pain, because he doesn't see a way through that ends with Ashlynn. I'm pretty sure he thinks she's back with Cameron, and he's not fighting for her because he thinks that's the best outcome for her.

His mind, even his heart, is willing to give her up for what's best for her. But his soul is crying out in the dark, and he's afraid he's never going to see the light again. He's lost and the alcohol is the only thing giving him courage right now.

Knowing Ashlynn is coming to the Grammy's will mean one thing to him. He will know she's there because she can't stay away from him. That their magnetism is slowly and inevitably pulling them back together.

Trace speaks a few minutes to Leed. I can't hear what they are saying, but I'm sure it's about Ashlynn. Trace leaves and Leed sits up into full lotus on the couch and begins to meditate.

Matt and Bodie come back in. Matt is holding the door open for Bodie. Looks like they cussed their way to a truce.

Matt walks over. "I owe you an apology. I'm sorry I blew up at you. I'm worried as fuck about Leed. I'm worried about Trace, too. He's never failed professionally before. It kills me thinking that might happen on my watch. And you're not wrong...every morning I get agitated as fuck thinking a shark is going to take a bite out of the Lion, or your man, and it pisses me off that you aren't as worried as me."

I chuckle at Matt. I am definitely worried a shark is going to take a bite out of Bodie, but it's not the sharks at the beach that keep me up at night.

"Thank you for the apology."

"So we're good?"

"Absolutely. I look at your bs as on-the-job training."

Matt gives me the smile that makes him look so much like Trace. "You are learning fast, Doc Gorgeous." He winks and strolls away.

The whole Soundcrush and Skid Marcs crew assemble but we are waiting for a cue from Matt. Or Trace.

Dev slides up beside me, bare-chested and half costumed in satin pants, eating a banana.

I assess him with a subtle side eye. He's more than good-looking. His dark features are almost always arranged in a swoon-worthy balance of charming seduction—a natural born flirt at the ready. But the taught, nearly vibrating set to his shoulders is a sharp and very attractive attractive contrast.

What I can I say? I like a brown, charming bad boy.

"It's about fucking time he gets his shit together," he says, nodding at Leed. "We're supposed to perpetrate a crime in a few day's time. I was planning to conk him on the head and do it myself."

Same, Dev, same. I get that Ash has to confront Slade to take her power back, but conking Kat and having someone else haunt Slade might be the way I should go too. I'm worried Trace is going to lose his shit.

The only option I have is success. Helping Ashlynn to her happy ever after is the only way Trace is ever going to forgive me for going along with any situation that puts Kat at risk.

Dev mistakes my silence for disapproval. He takes another bite of the banana. "Fuck...you aren't bound by ethics to report me, are you? I'm not up on your American ways...my lot doesn't go to counseling. We just tell our sins to our mistresses."

"Are you going to kill someone?"

"Hope not," He swallows more banana and munches gleefully.

"Didn't think so. No I'm not bound to report you, then. I am rather concerned about the other atrocity you just alluded to. Are you planning to install Bridget in your father's castle after a fairy tale wedding and cheat on her with the downstairs maid? Because I will stop that crime in progress..." I hook a thumb toward Matt.

Dev bobbles his head in consideration. "Mmmmm...not sure Bridge could ever hope to get the full fairy tale from our affair. I've already been warned that my 'dalliance in music' is restricted to my twenties if I expect to inherit. Also I am required to leave my twenties without 'permanent complications.' Dear old dad does not approve of an American Rock Princess as a suitable match for me. He's still living in the eighteenth century. My halfbrother will inherit his title, but he's hoping to legitimize me with a marriage to a peer's daughter. Me dragging the family name further into commonry? Not on his agenda for me."

"So you aren't allowed to marry until you are thirty and your dad gets to choose your wife?"

"When you say it like that, it seems...medieval. But essentially...yes. If I want to inherit, I have to play by his rules. To be honest, I might go the way of good Prince Harry and give the fam the finger...but this rap game? Could be fleetin. To be honest, I'm spending more on building my rep than I'm making. I'd be a fool to reject a 60 million pound inheritance without due consideration. Especially when it comes with few strings attached except to go straight and marry well. Maybe I'll have to play a bit of polo, find a charity of my choosing to work for. But right now, I'm having too much run in my misspent youth to give it too much thought..."

"So you are just stringing Bridge along then?"

He swallows banana heavily. "'Course not. And anyway, I'll end up with whomever I bloody well please. I don't give a fuck what my father says."

"That last statement is a lie," I say automatically. "You sneer to the left when you lie. You sneer to the right when you...just sneer."

"You are bloody marvelous at your job, aren't you?" he nods, approvingly.

I laugh. "Which one?"

"Both, I think, but I was speaking specifically of your professional training. You know, I honestly don't know what the fuck I'm doing there...with Bridget, I mean. I just know I can't leave her alone. Do you think perhaps I might be projecting—"

I hold up a hand. "I'm sorry, Dev, I can't take on another patient right now. But after listening to you perform The Siege forty-two times I can tell you that I think you and Riley should form a support group for stoics coping with loss, because that girl you sing about fucked you up just as much as the poor dead girl that Riley still grieves."

"Not quite that fucked up," he grins. "I saw Avery's ugly mug after Riley jumped him at Bodie's party. All I did to my rival was push him in a fountain at his wedding reception."

I can't help but laugh at this devil with blue tipped hair. "I can see why Mac likes you."

He shakes his head. "Not enough for my taste. Can you imagine the scene she would make in my society? I swear, every day I'm half-tempted to put up a good fight for her."

"What about Bridge?" I laugh.

He bites his lip and gives me a more conspiratorial look than I have ever seen on Bodie's face. "The thing about Bridge? She's a treasure I'm sure I don't deserve. I'm terrified of tarnishing her. What if I dirty her up and she loses her shine forever?

"But Mac? She's made of sturdier stuff. She and I? God. What fun we could have. I would give an eye tooth to have MacKenna on my arm at a society function, looking for all the world like an English rose, and see my father's face when she drops the f-bomb in front of a member of the Royal family..."

I completely lose my composure. Dev and I can't stop laughing.

Mac joins us, beaming at Leed from between us. "Will you look at that?!?!" She's practically glowing as she flaps a hand at Leed's meditative state. We try to stuff back our giggles and she looks suspiciously at us.

"What's so funny?"

"My seduction plan to utterly decimate you, my dearest," Dev purrs at her.

She snorts. "Yeah, you're right. That is a joke."

I laugh harder at her. "Oh come on, Mac. He's very handsome. Sure you don't want to give him a shot?"

"I can't," she pats him. "When he kisses me I have a fucking panic attack."

"Watch out," Adam says, appearing from nowhere and giving Dev a friendly shove. "How many times you gotta get shot down before you realize my Shorty is the most faithful, most perfect wife a man could have?"

Adam gives Mac a tender kiss on the forehead as she pats his chest and points at Leed meditating. Adam smiles and closes his eyes. I see a simple prayer of thanks form on his lips.

"Alas, I am always looking for an opportunity for romance with a beautiful woman of the world." Dev gives me a curt bow and a lusty eyebrow raise that would crack the will of weaker woman.

"Intrigued," I smile, "but very taken. Very happy."

My smile slides to Bodie who is watching our trio with amusement as he tosses back peanuts with Jax at the hospitality table.

"Drummers. Good lovers. Hard to lure a drummer's woman away," he mutters.

"Did you and Bridge call it quits?" Adam asks.

Mac snorts. "More like a false start situation. All Dev has done is take her on a few moonlight drives and kissed her a few times. She's a virgin, Adam. Didn't you know? Can't you smell one?"

He rolls his eyes at her, but he gives Dev a sympathetic look. "I see. You care. And her innocence puts the pressure on you to not fuck it up?"

Dev looks around. "Can someone toss me a proper drink?" He means the canned gin and tonic that he requires on all his riders. Bodie picks one up from a bucket at the hospitality table and tosses it a wide arc. Dev catches it easily and cracks it open. After a long swallow, he answers Adam's question. "If that...were the case...would you have any advice?"

Adam grins. "I was more like the guy a girl goes to when she's tired of waitingand is just looking for a good first experience." He claps Dev hard on the shoulder. "The guy you wanna ask about loving an innocent girl?" He points a finger at Trace, who is looking shit-cool leaning against the wall, checking his phone, just as Kat makes her way across the floor to him.

Trace lights up as Kat calls his name. He shoves his phone in his pocket and puts both hands in the air, offering her a double high-five. "First year of college in the bag, KitKat! How does it feel?"

She grabs his hands. "It feels like summer, RockStar. You gonna show me a good time or what?"

He picks her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. Kissing her as he says, "Well, lets kick it off with a real...bang."

He makes for a door that leads to some private office spaces and storage rooms.

"Wait—Trace wait!" Matt yells. "Look!"

Leed opens his eyes and slowly rises out of lotus. He folds effortlessly into a handstand—first one hand, then the other. He kicks over in the most elegant dismount I've ever seen.

He's perfectly sober. His eyes are sea-foam green and his voice serene as he looks around and says, "You all...you're the best. I've been at my worst, but...that's all done. Thank you for the patience. I really feel...fucking grateful for you all." He looks directly at Matt. "Matt... I'm sorry. Truly. But I'm not gonna let you down. Trace...fuck, man...the shit I've put you through these last couple of weeks..."

Kat slides from Trace and he walks over to Leed. He holds out a hand, homie-style. "Don't even fucking worry about it. We've all been through shit. What's important? You come out the other side still a rock star. Let's do this."

They embrace and Matt starts clapping. The whole soundstage joins in with claps and yells and whistles.

Leed turns to Dom, Skid Marcs drummer. "You wanna count us in on Halfway There, man? When the skit goes down, it will be you on the drums and Bodie on bongos..."

"Naw," Dom says taking a seat on the couch. Artie and Jax join him.

"No?" Trace looks to Matt for direction. Matt adjust his bandanna, and climbs over Jax to sit on the back of the couch. He leans forward, his hands on knees, his feet planted on Jax and Dom's thighs. Artie is chewing on licorice, looking bored.

Those four rockers? They're slightly worn, but they sweat the same cool grace they did thirty years ago.

"No," Matt reaffirms."We wanna see you guys play it through one time, better than we can. When we all agree you have kicked our musical ass, then we'll work on the skit."

Bodie is already grabbin' sticks and settling on the drum throng. "Don't think we can't, Old Man."

Adam gives Mac a piggyback to the synthesizers and grabs his bass from Javi. Tig is already rigging Trace with his guitar and holding the talkbox at the ready as Trace takes a swift drink of water. Leed is rolling his neck.

"Wait," I say, rushing over to the table with the props. I grab the bushy wig and put it on Leed. "You'll feel more like yourself with long hair," I say, carefully tucking his lengthening, but still fairly short hair up into the high-quality wig. After I fiddle with it a minute, I step back. "Give it a good toss."

Leed does his signature hand-rake-and-hair-flip. "Huh. It'll do," he says, his lovely green eyes firing with surprise. "Thanks, Doc!" He grabs the mic, swinging it sideways experimentally—in imitation of Matt's iconic move—as Mac raises the gothic vibe of Halfway There with the synthesizers.

Adam and Bodie gazes are deadlocked, Bodie nodding his head to the beat he's counting in his mind to cue Adam. At the exact same moment, Adam scrubs into his bass line as Bodie begins a tinny cymbal tap.

Chink chink chink.

Chink chink chink.

Chink chink chink.

Chink chink—

Bodie lets loose with a fill and then Trace brings in the harsh guitar-talk box combo in on cue as Mac's synthesizers soar.

Leed stomps the stage, swinging the mic as he purrs the understated beginning.

Once up a time not so long ago...

Then the Lion twirls, slams the mic stand down and comes to life roaring the first verse like the song is his.

Leed becomes del Marco, but Trace doesn't have to become anything. His guitar playing is already legendary. The solo he lets loose in this song looks absolutely effortless. But more than that?

He looks like he's having fun. More fun than I have ever seen him have.

Not just him. All of them. One by one, I drink them in. Everyone of them in love. With their sound. With the stage. With each other.

And I realize that's what I'm doing this for.

This magic.

It's an honor, really.

When they finish. Skid Marcs is silent.

"Go again," Matt says.

"Are you fucking kidding?" Trace spits out the talk box and yells.

All of Skid Marcs erupts into laughter. "I'm just fucking with ya!" Matt leaps off the couch and grabs Leed roughly. "You are twice the front man I ever was. You got half the strut and twice the voice I have."

Matt collars Trace much more gently. "You're a kick- ass guitarist and damn fine leader of this band. I am so fucking proud of you, son."

The other members of Skid Marcs are congratulating Soundcrush on their flawless performance of the classic rock song. Matt pats his bandanna-ed head and yells. "Okay, who's got the script for that skit the Grammy people want us to do?"

Boss Hawkins slaps copies into Skid Marc's hands, and I quickly retext Soundcrush the link to the document, because I know they would rather use their phones than a paper script.

From behind his kit, Bodie winks at me and mouths, "Good work, Baby."

I nod and smile in response. It wasn't all me, but at least now that the Lion has his balance, the real work can begin.