Chapter 69: Evil Snakes Run Lots of Games

Okay! This is a one-shot point of view from the bad guy we all love to hate. We've been asking ourselves...how bad is Dawes, really? I think this chapter answers that question....

Dawes

This shoot is organized chaos, just like every goddamn location shoot, and even though the director is one of the best in the business, the schedule will not go as planned. It never does.

It will be a long damn day. It's why I doubled up on the "supplements" in MacKenna's morning smoothie.

I eye her, gauging the effect. She's smiling but antsy, surrounded by Trace's new crew as she gets her hands and feet painted in temporary henna tattoos—some Indian Bridal tradition, and one of the highly stylized elements of the video. She'll be in full costume...a golden embroidered two piece "wedding dress," a heavily jeweled head piece. She's balking at the ornate choker necklace, but the director wants it.

It's a fucking problem. A real timing challenge--keeping her energized with the herbal energy stuff for the dance scenes, and slipping a Valium into her almond butter and crackers later in the afternoon so that I can talk her into the necklace.

I watch her as I have been for three weeks, her bouncing knee, her eyes darting back and forth. Shit, I might have given her a little too much of that herbal energy stuff. If she figures it out, I'm done.

Her gaze meets mine, and she frowns slightly. Then, Trace's girlfriend distracts her, poking at the one non-talented del Marco with one of the makeup artists brushes, trying to make him watch the make-up artist painting Mac, and he snatches the brush from Kat and dips it in the stain, drawing a curley-q across her bare shoulder.

I snort. Poor Trace. Bastard is clueless that his little brother is on his girl. I could tell Trace that Street is working up a little crush and that Kat just doesn't see it, and he'd probably channel Matt del Marco and find some cool as fuck way to check Street's punk ass before it spirals while having a heart-to-heart bonding moment at the same time, and also give Kat all the feels in the way he does it.

But what good would that do me?

None.

So I might as well watch and wait. See what kind of mess Little Sister makes with Little Brother. Might be able to work that to my advantage somehow. I don't think Soundcrush will let me back in the door, but it's always good to be armed with ammo when it comes to a del Marco. Plus, Trace is usually the key to keeping Heartley in line...he'll listen to Gallant when he'll listen to no one else. And keeping Heartley managed is critical, because no matter what the fuck I do, I can't seem to separate him from MacKenna.

Been trying for years—seizing every opportunity, planting every seed of doubt, making sure he saw every fanboy I could, keeping MacKenna focused on every mistake she's made when it comes to him.

No matter what I've done, they keep coming back around. And as long as she's tied to him, she'll never break with Soundcrush.

MacKenna is a star in her own right. I've known that since the first tour. She doesn't belong behind a keyboard stand, playing second fiddle to Leed, with her hands tied by Trace's Alt-Rock Colored Glasses.

She belongs center stage. She belongs in the money. She belongs with me in the driver's seat of her career.

Guys like me, we wait our whole career for a MacKenna Lawson. The music scene shifts all the time. You can develop a talent that is just ready to peak, and then pop veers from r&b or dance to hip-hop and what-ever-the-fuck and suddenly your rising star is irrelevant. To find the perfect talent at the perfect time and seize the perfect opportunity to be the inside man—it's a once in a lifetime thing.

MacKenna is my ticket. I'll never need another artist, if I position her right.

But she'll never fully let me take control, if Heartley is always there grabbing at the wheel, trying to detour her down a damn a country road and off into the sunset to make a dozen damn babies.

Now they claim they are married.

They aren't fucking married.

Deep down, they both know it.

No license, no legalities.

That would mean no divorce, no settlements.

So easy to walk away.

All it would take is one huge fuck-up on her part, and he might walk, like he did after the choke-fucker.

Of course, he's too fucking decent not to come to his senses and come crawling back eventually, because of the kid.

But what if...I got a miracle? A lucky break?

What if there was no kid?

Things go wrong with pregnancies all the time. God knows, MacKenna is putting more stress on her body than the average pregnant woman. The team has her back on a restrictive diet, and she's been sweating her ass off for two weeks, learning the choreography for this video. And with that sketch herbal shit I got from the trainers that I have been secretly putting in her smoothies to keep her energy up, and keep her pushing through her exhaustion...

Yeah, things could go wrong. Maybe her pregnancy is just not meant to be. Maybe her or the kid aren't strong enough.

Or maybe, if she and Adam had a truly awful blow-up, and MacKenna was left feeling utterly alone and vulnerable, maybe she would even get rid of the kid. Maybe in one of those manic, anxiety riddled PTSD episodes she gets in, she might decide she can't handle being a single mom. There's still a few weeks that she could terminate.

That would be the best scenario, for sure. If Mac got rid of Adam's kid, that would be game over for him.

And in order for that to happen, I need a massive, dramatic, break-up between them. I need MacKenna destroyed, so that I can rebuild her.

But it's so much harder to engineer a break-up between them when they are on separate coasts. I know they are fighting on the phone, but Heartley is too goddamned solid not to weather the petty things they are arguing over. He's always making excuses for selfishness, as long as he believes she "loves" him.

No, what he needs is a crisis of belief.

I think about the rapper.

Mac likes him.

She likes him like she likes Trace. She feels him—for the way he's wounded, just like Gallant.

Somehow she's smart enough to know two broken people don't work in a relationship—that's why she was drawn to Heartley and not Gallant back in the days when they all met. But she and Gallant and this Dev kid are the same—bleeding on the inside. Girls—even the ones that are broken themselves—always want to fix the broken boys.

Yeah, that's my play. I just have to figure out how to maneuver it...

I pull my phone as my text alerts.

"Well, fuck me." Then I laugh.

Heartley is helping me out. His text is like an answer to my prayers.

SC show cancelled, busted venue. On my way to Napa. Don't tell Mac. Want to surprise her. Want you and me to get right. We need to work together. Apparently neither one of us are going anywhere.

"That's where you are wrong, Heartley," I murmur as I text back.

Glad to hear that. Feel the same. What time will you land? I'll send her driver.

When he tells the details, I call a car service and hire an actor. I'm not sending Mac's driver. I need a guy who can pretend like he's been instructed to hang up the drive in traffic, and act like he's trying to hide it when in actuality he clues Adam in. I want Adam on edge and suspicious of me when he gets here.

Okay, next is the rapper. I have to wait for my moment, though. MacKenna was due in make up long before him, because those fucking henna tats take hours. By the time he gets here, Adam is more than halfway across the country, but I have my play set.

I stroll over to him. "Looking...exotic," I nod at him as his stylist rings his eyes with Kohl, another holds up various nipple rings, and a third is covering his tat sleeves with make-up. He's scheduled to being airbrushed to smooth it out.

He grimaces in response and watches MacKenna laughing nervously with Kat. "Mac seems bit skittish today. She alright?"

I smile. These asshats are playing right into my hands.

"Well, actually, she is a bit off-balance," I lean in conspiratorially.

He looks surprised. "What's up, then?"

"She's nervous about the kiss. Nervous about what Heartley is going to hear about it from Gallant's girlfriend. She wants it over quickly, but she's afraid it's going to be awkward, and the director is going to pursue a lot of takes. She has the idea that..." I pretend to shake my head in embarrassment. "Well, maybe it's not the best idea......you know what...nevermind." I walk away.

Shit, I think he's going to let me, but at the last second he grabs my arms. "She wants us to snog a bit in private? As practice? Is that what you are saying?"

"Well, she'd never admit it," I grin at him. "But yeah, I think that's what she was getting at."

He rubs his jaw speculatively as he looks at her. "Fuck," he sighs. "The truth is...I was thinking the same thing. I...uhm...well, fuck...I can't believe I'm telling you this, but I haven't kissed a girl in years. Not since...well...let's just say I don't kiss the fangirls, I just shag them."

It takes everything in me not to laugh out loud. This kid is as fucked up as Gallant and way less suspicious than Heartley. He's putty.

"Well, see there? I am glad I said something, because you two are on the exact same page. I'll get a private space ready. Looks like they are ready to spray tan you...I'll text you when she's ready for you."

He grins. Hmm. The kid is not bad-looking when he smiles. Maybe he and Mac will have some chemistry. This one spews all his hate in his raps. It leaves him calm and easy to maneuver. I could work with him—keep Mac happy with a little rebound romance that ensure Heartley is gone for good.

He swaggers off like a doberman puppy, and my next step is to get rid of Mac's little del Marco entourage. She's finished with her arm and leg tatts and Street is inspecting them closely.

As I walk over, I hear no talent del Marco say, "Damn. I'm thinking I should have taken a class in henna art or something. This is way more intricate than I realized. What if I fuck this up during the shoot tomorrow? It will ruin Seb's pictures—"

"And your shot with this new girl," Pretty Princess del Marco says, teasing her brother.

"Already blew that," Street mumbles. "We are just friends."

Kat's face falls. "What? What happened?"

He shrugs, looking at her a little wistfully. "Neither of us really feelin' it, I guess. Don't worry, she's still going to do the photo shoot. We need to keep her face out of the shots though...she doesn't want the publicity of looking like she's dating me when we...aren't."

Kat puts a hand on his shoulder and pouts at him. "Street, I'm sorry. If you don't want to do the shoot with her..."

"I promised you. I'm not gonna let you down," he shrugs, but his eyes widen as he looks at Mac's tats again. "Except I might let you down by making a fucking disaster of the body art."

Mac says, "Why don't you practice? There's all this paint leftover," she gestures at the stylist's table.

I have no idea what the fuck they are talking about, but I know an opportunity when I hear one. "Yeah, sounds like a good idea," I encourage. "Why don't you take the paints, and the girls," I gather them all up, "and go back there to the massage room no one's using." I'm practically pushing the del Marco posse into the closet at the back of the set.

Bridge shrugs. "Yeah, you can do me if you want, Street."

I pause, inspiration striking. There's no real reason to fuck with Trace, but even a guy like me has to have his fun. "Why don't you give Kat some nice body work? Trace likes tats, you know," I give Little Sister a wink.

"Oh," Kat says nervously, looking at Street. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea."

"Well, maybe you're right if you think Street will fuck it up," I frown.

No Talent del Marco looks predictably wounded, and Kat glares at me. "That's not it at all, Dawes." She turns to Street, "You can totally practice on me, I love henna tats. Maybe something on my back?" she suggests. Then she looks at Bridge. "You'll keep us company, right?"

Pretty Princess del Marco is smart and funny, kind of like Trace. "Chaperone, you mean, so we don't have a family feud in the making? Of course."

I'm so eager to get Mac's irritating posse out of the way that I help them carry all the paints into the massage room myself. I manage to hide Kat's phone beneath some shit to make sure she doesn't have it with her in the massage room, banking on the fact that she's probably the only one with Mac's number. When they are settled, I bribe one of the hospitality people to pretend to store a couple of cases of wine in there with them.

And lock the door as he leaves.

I really can't wait to see them come out of there in a few hours. Should be interesting.

Putty, I'm telling you. All of them except Heartley.

Though Mac does push back on me sometimes. She laughs outright when I suggest she and Dev practice kissing before the shoot.

"Why, so you can take a picture and send it to Adam? I already told you, stop trying to fuck with us," she's dismissing me without even a glance, her eyes closed and her face upturned for bronzing.

I run my hands in my hair and pretend to be exasperated as I collapse into the second stylist chair beside her. "Christ, why do you always have to be so fucking difficult, MacKenna? I was trying to let the kid save face, but I suppose, he can just ask you himself," I mutter, pretending to check my phone.

"What are you talking about, Dawes?" MacKenna waves away the stylist's brush and stares at me hard.

I swivel the chair to face her. "The kid is out of practice. He's got the same hang-up as Trace."

Her eyes widen. "Oh. You mean he doesn't kiss his fangirls," she murmurs.

"Not just that. He said it's been awhile. I got the feeling the last girl he kissed was the girl in the song, so he's not only out of practice but loaded with baggage."

"Awwwww damn," Mac says softly.

Even the Maneater is workable in my hands.

"Yeah, Poor bastard is a nervous wreck."

"I know the feeling," she murmurs, her hand fluttering at her throat, but the she grips the arms of the stylist chair to keep her hands off her throat. "I feel jittery today. Off."

"My fault, Sweetheart," I say quickly. "I'm sorry, they made a mistake and used espresso in you coffee drink this morning."

Her eyes hard. "Goddammit Dawes, you have to tell me that kind of shit, so I know not to drink anymore caffeine today." She touches her stomach lightly.

"You're fine." I stand behind her, leaning down on her chair, whispering in her ear. "Christ, fifty years ago, women drank like fish and smoked like chimneys when they were cooking a kid. A little coffee isn't going to hurt. Adam's tough as nails, I'm sure the kid is fire-proof."

She smiles at the mention of Heartley. Shit. That a misstep, to bring him up when I'm trying to get her to make-out with Dev. I have to move forward, though.

"I told Dev I would bring the idea to you, but if you'd rather just suffer through the takes...I'm sure you two will get it working. Eventually."

She bites her lip. "I guess, it doesn't matter if we rehearse off camera. It's still...nothing. Just a job. And it would be a lot more comfortable."

"Only if you want to. We'll keep it discreet," I assure her. "I'll find a quiet place myself."

She smiles at me. "Yeah, let's do it that way. No reason to make it harder than it is. Thank you, Dawes. I'm sorry, I'm always suspicious of you. You've really been doing your best for me."

"I just wish Heartley could see it that way, MacKenna," I say, laying the sincerity. "I know I've made my share of mistakes, but your welfare has always been my number one priority."

She nods. "Just give him some time and space. And stop being so goddamned barky when he's around. He hates it when anyone yells at me...but him," she grins at me.

I wink at her and leave her to finish her makeup. Twenty minutes later, I have found a spare bedroom in this castle. It's perfect—a bizarrely designed, medieval style room. The bedroom door opens onto an inner room balcony, overlooking the massive bedchamber. The entire room is perfectly visible from this upper landing. I muss up the bed a bit, throw some towels around on chairs, make it look lived in, and stroll out, supremely satisfied with how my plan is coming together.

It's just a matter of timing now. But with the way my day is going, I feel like all I do is win.

Thoughts? Is Dawes going to win this game he's playing?