Chapter 22: Rock Stars Return

Well, folks, it's the moment some of you have been eagerly awaiting. Our favorite rock star is back in first person....

(Dedication/Warning for @MmmWhatever and others on Team Maybe-Baby...don't ugly cry. Stay with me...)

Trace... Nine Days Later

"Fuck this long distance bullshit. I'm quitting the band to live as your broomstick, KitKat. Every WITCH needs one right? That way you can ride me all the time."

I'm sitting on top of a roadie case, in the Richmond Coliseum, face-timing my girl in front of an empty stadium. I left her in LA this morning. I couldn't leave in her Vegas. I just couldn't. I took an extra two days with her in LA, while Matt and I did about thirty interviews together. The label was thrilled; the guys not so much.

I'll make it up to them. Kat and I had to have a few more days, to settle in as a real couple. And I already miss her like I can't even fucking believe. It's hard to breathe, knowing we are on opposite sides of the country.

Kat's beautiful smile lights up my small screen. She's sitting outside her little bungalow on the WITCH Campus. All "fixed up", as we would say back home in Atlanta—her long dark hair is beach-waved, her make-up is matte and understated, her nails are manicured, her tan is sprayed on but very nicely, her casual tank top is high-end and layered with necklaces. She's adapting to LA nicely, I note with pride.

She had WITCH Campus orientation today, and soon Bridge and Street are taking her shopping for stuff for her bungalow bedroom. I can't wait to see what she chooses. It sure as hell isn't going to be blue, I know that much.

"I really can't ride you all the time, Trace. My vagina needs a break," she whispers as she sips an iced coffee.

Goddamn, the way her eyes sparkle when she teases me makes my heart race.

I gotta get a grip, here. I mean really. What the fuck? Am I fucking rock star or a lovesick puppy?

I put my sunglasses on and hop off the case. I'll feel more like myself with a guitar in hand.

"Well, you have a little time to recuperate from our lovin'. But I'm warning you, you better get your girl in shape. Because when you meet me in Nashville...just know it's  gonna be a fucking marathon."

"Fucking marathon. Good one, TG." Kat's not looking at the camera anymore, but into the distance.

She nods eagerly at whoever is there, as she rises. "Yeah, be right there. " She looks back at the phone camera—at me—all tenderness. "I gotta go, baby. Your brother just pulled up."

"Just him? What happened to Bridge?"

"I don't know, I guess we are going to pick her up." Kat looks away again, holding a finger for Street. "Hey," her attention is all back on me "I really do miss you already, you know..."

"I know, Kitty. Me too. We'll get busy, it'll get easier. Have a great evening, ok?"

"I will. You have a great first show back, Rock Star."

I pull my glasses off. "Can I tell you something? I'm nervous as shit."

Her eyebrows bunch and her lips purse, but then realization dawns and her face smooths. She sits back down and holds the camera steady. "Ah. Lot of expectation, your first show as a del Marco."

I bob my head. "Yeah. It's shouldn't matter, but it does. Parts of this show are being recorded. Everyone in the industry is watching me now."

"Hey, you know who else will be watching, thanks to you hooking me up with the livestream? Me," she assures me with the prettiest smile I've ever seen. "So you play for me tonight, ok? Like it's just us. Like when I was thirteen and you were on your roof with your old Gibson, and I was looking up at you like you were the moon and the stars."

Damn, my girl knows just what to say. "You got it, KitKat. Hey, so here's a thing...from now on, whenever I do this during a performance..." I focus the phone toward my chest and extend my fingers to make the sign language letter K, thumping my chest above my heart twice, to make it a double... KK... "that's for you, KitKat."

She smirks, and twirls her brown hair. "Are you sure you wanna front that Trace? It looks a little OG. Next thing you know, you'll be covering that Juice Wrld song I like..."

I put my sunglasses back on and hoist my guitar. "Fine, I take it back, no secret signals for you..."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" she laughs, "Please KK me,okay?"

"Most def," I assure her. I touch her face on my phone. "I love you."

She blows me a kiss. "I love you, too. Now go bond with your band."

"Yes ma'am. 'Bye."

She's gone. I feel sad.

Man up, Gallant. Jesus. You feel sad? Who the fuck are you? You sound like Leed. Fuck that.

I pocket my phone, step up to a mic. "Hey, can we go live with this monitor?" I ask. I see one of the sound techs move casually toward the soundboard. I run a couple of solo's as I pace the stage. Feels...better. Feels good.

"The prodigal son of a bitch returns!" Bodie yells behind me, and I turn to see the guys all rushing me with grins. I came straight from the airport, but their bus just arrived from the last show. I whip off the guitar just in time for Bodie to rush me with a bunch of jabs that I fend off. Leed claps my hand and my shoulder.

"Mini-Matt!" he grins. "I always knew there was something freaky with you and Matt del Marco. I thought maybe y'all were figuring out you had big-man-love...but, hey...father-son works!"

"Yeah, sorry for keeping it on the DL..."

"Naw man, holding it back for the big Ballard sister save—shady, but smart!" Leed taps his brain.

"It just... sort of...worked out that way." I say a little defensively.

His shoulder length red hair swings as he wobbles his head and shrugs. "It's all good. Everybody wins.." His eyes fire and for a second he really does look like a lion. "Except Ash."

Something in me tenses. I don't understand why. I'm okay with Ash being friends with Mac and Leed. Honestly, I want her to have friends. Hell, I want to be friends with Ash, too. But fuck Leed and his sunflower bullshit, if he thinks he suddenly cares about her more than me. I took care of Ashlynn for two years; I didn't stop caring about her as a human being just because we signed a goddamn piece of paper annulling the my responsibility to take care of her. I'm still trying to find the right fade, there.

"She's doing ok," I assure him.

"You talked to her?" he asks.

I shake my head. "No, but I talk to her parents. Frequently. Look. Leed...it's too soon for me and Ash to be friends. Too soon for her, too soon for Kat. Besides, Ash wants the space. I know you know that." I know he went to visit her.

He smiles a little sheepishly and lets out a man-bun sigh. "Yeah, I know that. I saw her. She's hanging in there. Just bustin' your balls a little, Trace. You did...good. I mean...you fucked up like Titanic, marrying Ash, but you did as good as anybody could to patch the holes and right the ship. I'm fucking happy for you, that things are coming right for you."

He grins. It's his sincere, dork grin, not his lion grimace. I relax. He means it.

"Thanks, man."

Mac doesn't greet me with her usual teasing sarcasm. She approaches in sunglasses, hugs me tight, whispers with a quavering voice "Really fucking glad you're back," and slips away to her keys. Adam is still at side stage, giving everyone else time to greet me while he unlatches a new case—he must have ordered a new bass. I walk over.

His smile does not extend to his eyes, but he gives me a back thumping hug. "Fucking A, del Marco! How's your head? On straight?"

"Still trying to get it screwed back on right." I grin at him. "Knowing Matt's my dad and having the whole world know is a different thing."

Adam blinks. "Yeah. Yeah, I can see that..." he fiddles with the new bass as he watches Mac at her keys.

"Mac's been crying," I say quietly. "I know it's maybe-baby day, right?"

He shakes his head. "Not so much. Last night...she uhhm...you know."

I shake my head. "She what? Took a test?"

Adam is still unpacking the bass, pulling the plastic skins off. "Well let's just say, we should all be getting a red siren text from Riley any minute."

Oooooooooh. It's like that.

He shakes his head, looks down at the bass. "It's all good, man. She's...relieved to have an answer, I think."

Adam does not look relieved. He looks like a man that lost his dog, his truck, his  trailer, and his favorite pair of boots in a tornado last night, but still showed up for work in the morning.

I clap him hard on the back, and go into bright-side ramble mode. "Jesus. Glad to hear that, man. You dodged a fuckin' bullet, there. I know you love her, so it made it too hard to go with Plan B...but it ain't time for that family shit, yet. We still got a lot of hell to raise, yeah? And fuck...what would we have done about the goddamn tour? It would have been hell on her even to complete the North American leg. We would have had to cancel Europe. Shit."

Adam nods, picking and tuning. I keep going, 'cause that's what I do, for a brother.

"You know how it would have gone down, man. The fucking promoters would have threatened to sue, the label would have wanted the tour to go on, would have  wanted to replace her, but they'd have wanted you on the road.It would have been one fucking fight after another..."

"Trace! Fucking shut-up, ok? I get it. A baby would have been a big fucking inconvenience to Soundcrush." Adam hisses under his breath.

Fuck, that's not what I meant. I was just trying to...help Adam rationalize. I guess I'm shit at maybe-baby empathy. Thank god I don't have to worry about that with Kat...

I slap Adam on the arm. "Fuck, you know I didn't mean it like that, man. I just meant...maybe it wasn't meant to be right now. Anyways, think about it like this...in a couple years, you'll wear Mac down, wife her up.  Do it right? Yeah?" I say encouragingly.

He nods. "Yeah. You right."

"Damn right, I'm right." I sling an arm around his shoulders while we watch Mac warm up her fingers. "We'll be banked for real, then. Start our own label, do shit exactly like we want. You and Mac will knock us out a little Soundcrush mascot or two. We'll all take some time off, while you chase your rugrats around...hell Kat and I will even babysit for ya. Yeah, man. Sounds right. We'll all stay at home for a minute, build a label with some young bands. Be fun, right? You can produce a little. Maybe Mac and I will write for the new bands, and really work up something special for us. Then, when your little rugrats are up on their feet, Soundcrush retools and comes back out with a fresh sound. Maybe we reboot rock operas or some shit. Leed and Mac would be fucking awesome at theatrical rock."

"Wow, you really are thinking like a del Marco, aren't you?"

I nod. "Oooooh, yeeaaaaah. Soundcrush is in it to win it, man. Just like me and Kitty. Just like you and Macaroni." I squint at Mac. She looks...tense. I jostle Adam roughly. "She'll be alright. It's fucking summer. Let's take her to VA beach on our day off this week. She'll be glad she can have a beer or two."

Adam has been nodding as I talk. Now, he grins at me. "Or you gonna stand around and bullshit, or are you going to pick up your fucking Fender? Just because you're a del Marco Prince now doesn't mean you are too good to sound check..."

"Yeah, yeah, fuck you," I shove him and grab my guitar tuned for Seven Minutes.

"Come on, girl, it's all you," I say to Mac, bearing hard on the opening downstroke of her song. She diligently comes in on cue, with her keys. "No, no, no! Fuck those keys." I jerk my head at her while I play and yell. " I want you to come down front and rehearse fake oral on Adam. You broke the fucking internet with that shit!" I tease her. "You have to do it every show now!"

She stays right where she is and shoots me a bird, but she laughs—for real—and so do the guys and the crew. In my mind, I commit. I'm making Macaroni laugh at least three more times before this sound check is over.

Even though I miss Kat terribly already, it feels good, to be back with my family. My heart is here: my soul in LA. I have to learn to accept the out of body experience.