Chapter 55: Rock Stars Have Little Sisters. For Real.

Trace

I lean against the door and watch Kat and Row facing off. For once, Kat is not my sole focus.

I can't take my eyes off my sister. It's fucking weird, how much we look alike, because we both look like Matt. I never thought much about having brothers and sisters, and even meeting Street and Bridge I didn't feel much of a connection to them yet, but Row...the way she's so full of herself and pissed off, it's like we are made of the same dark sticky musical mess—only I keep my dark stuffed down inside, and she wears hers plastered all over her face. Right now, she's eyeing Kat from behind about two pounds of mascara and black lipstick. I bet we would look even more alike without all her makeup.

When I have the thought that I would like to see her plain face, I realize with a startle that I kinda like that little bitch. I grin at her.

"What are you lookin' at, Gallant?" she sneers.

"You're such a fucking poser," I tell her. "There's no way you are still as pissed as you sound. That was some good shit you packed."

She blinks. I see her lips twitch, but she sucks her cheeks in slightly to keep from smiling. Yeah, her rock star face isn't as good as mine, but she's getting there. Suddenly I have another thought.

"Your band any good?" I ask.

"Better than Soundcrush," she says, sitting down on the toilet and crossing her legs, scrolling her phone. "That was a mediocre sophomore effort you put out."

Bullshit. Our second album was solid. Mac and I wrote all those songs in Portland and it was filled with all the bullshit I was going through with Ash and Mac was going through after her first break-up with Adam. And if that wasn't enough, my complete homesickness and longing for my KitKat flavored every song. When I was writing that album, it was then I decided, I was waiting one more year—til Kat graduated, and then I was getting shit back on track with her.  Deep was an album people could mourn with or get the fuck up for.

"You mean the album the earned us three Grammy's and four multi-platinum singles?" I ask. "You're right, total shit that one."

Row rolls her kohl-lined eyes. "Am I supposed to be impressed with your three little Grammy's? We use Grammy's for paperweights at our house. We use them to hold down tablecloths on the patio table. They get left outside in the rain. One time our dog buried one."

I highly doubt that shit. I haven't been to Matt's house, but I have seen the trophy hall in industry magazines, like everybody else. I'd lay money down that Marianne has every award behind glass. She's proud of Matt and the longevity of Skid Marc's career.

"I thought we were talking about your band, not the old man's," I sneer. "If you are so good, why aren't you signed?"

"Because my damn dad keeps blocking it." She spits. "He's such an asshole. He says we need more time to develop our sound. We have two dozen originals. Consistent, tight. We have a sound. He just doesn't want me out there."

I shrug. "He does know a thing or two about this industry. Maybe you're just not ready. Or maybe you suck and he just doesn't want to hurt your feelings," I'm just trying to get a rise out of her and turn the conversation. I really don't want Kat telling her our business. We are on a damn rollercoaster right now. I don't think my stomach can take another plummit.

Kat makes a disgusted sound at the way I'm taunting Row, and my eyes flit to her. She doesn't look as furious as she did earlier, but that's likely from the weed.I'm actually kind of glad she did that; it definitely took things down a notch.

I didn't want to fight with her about the stupid shit I said on the plane. I just want to take her back to the Palace and order some room service and have one swift sweet fuck while we wait on it, and then maybe one more lazy lay after we eat. Maybe fall asleep inside her as the sun is coming up, catch a couple hours sleep before the press junket. It's been a long night, and that would be so nice.

I really hope we're going to be making up nice, in a little bit. I need to show her how much I love her, how sorry I am for saying that shit on the plane. It was unnecessary and insensitive, and I'm an asshole for it.

I'm just so fucking grateful to be unmarried to her sister right now. I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. That's all I feel, about that, really. Relieved not to be married. I really don't want to move past that feeling of gratitude too quick. I'm so fucking grateful to be free to learn to love my girl—the right way. Love her like I've got all the time in the world.

Row stalks over to me, grabs my phone, and in a few seconds she's transferred some songs to mine. "You listen to that and tell me Strut is not good enough." She throws a cord of ear buds at me.

Oh shit. Yeah. Forgot about Row for a second there. I was all caught up in my girl. "Look, I'll listen to your music. I'll tell what I think, honestly, if you'll be...a little less venomous, okay? I bet we can play nice, if we try." I wink at her and give her a sincere smile.

She looks confused. "Fine whatever." She swipes my phone to make the music play. "Time to let the chics talk, remember?"

With one ear, I listen to her music and with the other I listen to their conversation. Her band is good; the conversation, not so much.

"So what did he do to piss you off so much?" Row asks.

Kat looks at me with an irritation I haven't seen she was thirteen and I caught her kissing Deacon Rollings behind the tennis courts in our neighborhood. I really have no idea why she chose that little shit for her first kiss—if she would have just asked, I would have taken her to school—strictly as a learning exercise, you know. I was only seventeen--underage, too. Maybe things would have gone differently. Maybe her parents would have let us date. Okay what am I saying...thirteen and seventeen? No, that's creepy, too. I really have no perspective at all when it comes to Kat.

Anyway, she's giving me that same glare she gave me when I teased her about Deacon. I really almost pushed her too far, that  day. I stopped when I realized she was about to cry from my teasing, but it was too late. She didn't speak to me for a week and in the end I had to make it up with flowers. I gave her a bouquet of tiger lilies—flowers I ripped from someone's perfectly landscaped yard, of course, but they were really pretty, and reminded me of Kat. I should tell her sometime, that she's the first girl I ever gave flowers too.

Not right now. She's still looking at me with extreme irritation, but there's a mischievous glint in her eye too, so I'm not that worried. She's faking it a little, bringing the HellKat mostly to meet Row's tough bitch act.

"Well?" Row asks again. "What is does he do that rubs you the wrong way?"

"Right now? He breathes." Kat says through a clenched jaw.

Row laughs. "Tell me about it, Sister. All guys are complete idiots."

Aah. So there's trouble in Rowe's paradise already. Kat gives me the tiniest twitch of her eyebrow. She picked up on that too. I give her the Rock Star stare, but I hoping she's learning to see through it. Even though we are mad at each other, we still are feelin' each other. She's gonna help me out with this Row situation, keep her talking until Matt gets here.

"Something started it, though," Row presses.

Kat pushes her dark hair off her shoulders and gives a determined shake. "Oh yeah, something started it alright. He married my sister."

I knew it. She hasn't really forgiven me. She loves me, and she wants to forgive me, but her anger about Ashlynn has come rushing back with this Vegas bullshit. Of course it has. It's been less than two weeks since she found out, and less than two days since she's been trying to forgive me. That little HellKat of mine used me...she thought us finally making love would help her move past it.

And even as mindblowingly amazing as our sex was, and as tightly as we are wrapped in love, she's still hurt. And she has every right. This is going to take a long time to lay to rest between us.

Row's eyes go wide, but she keeps her rock star face in place. "You would take him back after he fucked your sister?"

Kat laughs, enjoying the shock value of the story. I'm glad she's getting a kick out of it, I guess. I'm not. "No, I would not. It wasn't that kind of marriage."

I put the second bud in my other ear and tune out while Kat is making explanation. I'm getting really tired of the tale of My Life's Biggest Fuck-Up So Far. It's easy to get lost in sampling of Strut's songs—Row is right. Their sound is tight, and her voice is amazing. The third song I sample...is the one that really gets my attention. There's a chord change that lays over the rhythm unlike anything I've ever heard, and it's instantly addictive. I could listen to this song over and over. Shit, I want to play this song.

"Who wrote this one-- I interrupt, jerking one bud out and looking at my phone. "Ways to Waste?"

Kat and Row both look annoyed—like I'm interrupting them.

"I rough them all on guitar," Row says, and she unconsciously starts to twirl a gray lock around her finger. "But the rhythm, the final sound, it's a group effort."

"This is your melody, your lyrics?" I press.

She nods, she bites her lip. It's on the tip of her tongue to ask me what I think, but she hardens her face and turns away.

"This band—all girls?" I ask. She nods.I figured, with a name like Strut. "Not bad for a bunch of girls. That lick right before the chorus is decent." I tease her. I'm totally fucking with her—it's awesome, but she's too damn bitchy for me to give her an actual compliment yet. Ways to Waste belongs on college radio everywhere. If it's not there, it's because somebody—probably Matt—doesn't want it there.

"You wouldn't know a good lick if it walked up and grabbed you by the balls, Gallant."

I grin, kind of liking the fact that she doesn't cave easy. She'll need to be tough, if she's fronting an all girl alt rock band. They are still too few and far between.

The Alt-Rock Revival movement is cresting, and her band needs to get on top of the wave. Soundcrush is the new giant, the frontrunner—except we are going to stick because nobody is going Cobain in my band if I can help it. But it's been four years now we've been pumping out our sound, and there are dozens of great bands climbing up on our shoulders, and the sound is already shifting to what the bloggers are now calling Post-Revival. Actually they get on my nerves with all their damn classifications. To me, if the music is good, and people love to come out and here it, I don't give a damn what some pretentious bloggers call it. Still, Row's sound is right now, and if its going to happen for her, it's now or never.

I break from my musings to see both Kat and Row staring at me.

"What?" I say. I think there was a question, but somehow I missed it. I am a little bit stoned.

Row grits her teeth, "I said what kind of dumb ass are you? You married her sister, but you love Kat? And you love Kat, but you would never consider getting married again, because you married her sister? That's some bullshit you are asking her to swallow, right there. And then, of all places, you bring her here? To Vegas? Where you perpetrated this shit in the first place?"

"Yep," Kat says.

Kat and Row both have their arms crossed, glaring at me. Wow, that was fast—how my girl and my sister suddenly became friends, and aligned against me. I take it back—I don't think I like Row much at all. She's riling Kat up against me.

I decide with Row, the best defense is a good offense. "Are you fucking kidding me? We are only here because of your dumb ass, running off to marry Gorenson! Listen Row, you really don't know what you are doing here...marrying that guy is a mistake."

Row walks over and snatches her earbuds back. "You are the dumb-ass that didn't know what he was doing. I'm know exactly what I'm doing here."

"How long have you even known uhhmmm...Ratch, is it?" Kat interjects.

"Six months."

"Hmmm. I knew the girl I married for my whole life and it was still a disaster," I huff. "Look, I've known Gorenson longer than you have. He can be charming at first, but he's bad news."

She looks a little bit surprised by that. "You know him? He never said a word about that. Not even...today...after I told him about you."

"He wouldn't. There was bad blood between him and Soundcrush's drummer."

The truth is, there was a time a couple years back that Bodie wanted to kill that fucker over the way he treated Tamara. I don't know all the details, but I do know takes a lot to make Bodie the Peacemaker lose his shit. I also don't know if Row actually thinks she loves this guy or not, so maybe it's not the right thing to do, to tell her that Gorenson is a narcissist asshole that only cares about himself and uses other people. He really messed Tamara up for a minute there, when she first came out to LA, and Tam's been around the block. She doesn't get head-tripped by a guy easily.

"Row, it's been a couple of years since I've been around him, but...he was not a good guy, back then. Are you sure you want to tie yourself to someone like him? And he's twice your age..."

For the first time, I see a little uncertainty in the way her shoulders hunch. "Look, it doesn't matter. Ratch and I...it's just a casual thing. We aren't getting married for love. It's like what you did...a marriage of convenience. Except I'm not a dumb ass that's in love with anybody else, and I'm not trying to save Ratch from himself. I know exactly what I'm getting out of this."

"What is that?Why are really doing this, Row?"" Kat's voice cuts in coolly, and I realize that's she's not as stoned as me or Row. Huh, impressive.  This whole time, she's been working up to getting Row to dish on herself. My girl is a cunning little Kitty.

Row rolls her eyes and slides down the wall. "Ratch is working us a deal for reality show. This—us getting married in Vegas--it's the angle. You know...Matt del Marco, Mad as Hell at his new son-in-law? It'll make great tv."

"So you want to be a reality tv star?" Kat asks.

Row shakes her gray curls. "No, I want my band signed. If Ratch and I get enough exposure, maybe my dad won't be about to snuff out every scout that comes to see us!The show is just a way to raise my clout. We're really going to throw down, you know? Me and Ratch, me and my dad...Ratch figures he and my dad will probably fight at some point...we're going for maximum volatility."

I stare at her. "You're serious? You're getting married to that asshole to turn your family into a Jerry Springer episode!?"

She stares at me boldly, her eyes narrowing until they look like black smudges in her pale face. "I have to do something. You are about to ruin any chance I have for my band. Nobody will care about my music, after today! The world is going to be in love with you and my dad. You are about to be the biggest rock story ever. They'll make movies about you guys and shit! And do you know where my character will be in those movies? In the background!" she hisses.

I rub my face. She's not wrong. The father-son thing we've unleashed will drown all other public buzz in either of our lives. For me, that's a good thing, because it kills my love-life drama. But for Row, well...it eclipses her. She was supposed to the heir to Matt's throne, and I'm the bastard prince that's usurping her destiny.

"Shit." I say. "You're right. Look I'm going to be real: your sound is tight and it's the right time for you, and your dad probably has been screwing you over a little bit, trying to protect you, and now I'm really going to fuck you over."

"Exactly," she says. "So eloping with that asshole Gorenson is pretty much the only salvage plan I have. It's not just me I care about, you know. It's just not just me you are fucking with. My best friends—my bandmates—they don't deserve to blown away by your...existence," she growls. "I promised them...somehow, I would see Strut through. I would get us the exposure you are going to deny us...some way, some how."

Shit, she's not just a selfish, petty little girl. She's fighting for her band, her friends. Like I have done so many times for Soundcrush. When Bodie was layed out with his habit. When Mac and Adam almost blew us to shit. When Leed was punching anything that would move, because he wanted to punch Adam and he couldn't bring himself to throw down with his best friend. I fought for them all. Row should have a chance to fight for Strut, not get buried by me.

"You're right." I say.

"What?"

"You are right," I repeat. " Let me help you."

"How would you help me?" She snears. "You are the problem."

"Not if you become a part of the story. Let me talk to the guys...our opening act is bowing out after the Southern leg, and we need a new opener for the Fall. What if Strut came on tour with Soundcrush? It would just make the story more...mythological."

Row stares at me blankly. "Soundcrush's openers are all legit bands. You would do that—take a chance on a unsigned band?"

I wrap my hand around the back of my neck. "Well I have to talk to the guys, but yeah, I usually bring the bands that open for us to the table."

"What about my dad? He's not going to like this."

"He'll like it a helluva alot better than you marrying Gorenson and trying to drag your whole family in front of the camera for a disaster every other day." I assure her. Honestly, I'm not sure how Matt will react to this, but he did say anything to keep her from marrying this asswipe.

She paces in her moonboots. "I don't know. I don't want to ride your fame."

"I totally get that. It's why I wanted to keep things on the DL about me and Matt. But I think for you...it's either come along with or get buried. I hate it's like that."

I'm staring at Kat, whose beaming at me for trying to help my sister. Suddenly, I feel compelled to an even higher truth. "Row, there's another big reason you shouldn't do this, you know."

"I already told Ratch he has to sign this pre-nup." She pulls a wad of legal papers out of her back pocket. I don't get my trust til I'm twenty-five, but still...I'm not stupid." She rolled her eyes. "That's why he walked off. Honestly, I'm not even sure he's coming back." She plops down on the toilet. "Even if he does, maybe this isn't the best idea, even fake-marrying that asshole," she mutters.

"I'm not talking about pre-nups and money. Row, you have no idea how stupid it is, to marry for anything but love."

"You seem like the very last person to front that line, Gallant," It's Row speaking, but it looks like Kat shares the sentiment. She's eyeing me suspiciously, like what I might say could either move her to kill or break her to pieces.

My eyes never leave Kat's face. "Row, I know you think you can just get hitched and get unhitched later, but one day, you're going to fall in love. And when you do, you'll wish you hadn't done this. Because the person you love with all your heart, will know that you thought marriage was meaningless. You'll want to give that person everything you can, but you will have already made a mockery of the most sacred commitment you could make to them. One day, you will look at the person you love, and you will feel like a thief—like you stole something that was supposed to belong to only them."

Kat's face has paled while I spoke. "That's why you don't ever want to get married again?"

I nod sadly. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry I can never give you what you deserve. You waited for me, in every way, and I...I didn't do that for you. I'm sorry."

Tears spill down Kat's cheeks. She steps to me and wraps her arms tightly around my neck and whispers. "You saved your heart for me. That's all I want, and nothing else matters. I love you. I don't care about anything else, as long as you love me too. It's okay. We're okay."

I bury my face against her neck. She exudes a scent like a calming Southern night. "I love you, KitKat. I swear I do."

We don't kiss; we don't have to. We are so deep into each other that holding on tight is enough. It's like her spirit is wrapped around me, and mine around her.

"Hellooooo," Row snarks from her seat on the toilet. "Remember me? Please don't make me watch you make out," she mutters. "I'm not stoned enough for that."

"How could I possibly forget such a pain in the ass as you?" I snark, and I feel Kat laughing against me. I lift my head and squint at my sister, while I'm still holding onto Kat. "So what's it going to be? Can we blow this joint and head to the Palace?"

"Yeah," says Row, "I'm fucking starving." She shoots off a text to Ratch. "Wedding is off. Good luck with reality show. See ya around," she mutters as she types.

As we stumble out of the bathroom, I'm highly conscious of how we must reek. People give us knowing looks. I push Row ahead of me by the shoulder and pull Kat along by the hand, and we all try to keep our heads down as we barrel out of there.

Out on the street, I find Matt's security guy. "The Uber driver gave up," he said, pulling his phone out to call up another.

"Don't bother," I swear under my breath. "Fuck, here we go..."

A long sleek limo is pulling up and Matt barrels out like a man on a mission, stopping short as he sees us. His gaze moves restlessly between us. "Where is he?" he growls.

"He left. He got pissed when I told him I wouldn't go through with it without signing the pre-nup. He might be coming back, but it doesn't matter. I'm over it."

"You're over it," Matt hisses. "I flew fifteen people out here find your ass and make you see how stupid this is and you are...over it?"

"Fine...the truth is your little intervention worked!" she spits. "These two saps—" she wags a casual bird finger at me and Kat, "made me see it was a dumb idea."

"Well...shit," Matt seems slightly irritated that his parental thunder has been stolen. He regroups. "Hell yes it was a dumb idea!!!Goddammit Row!!!That asshole is just a punk looking for—"

She grabs him around the waist and plants her face into his chest. "Daddy, don't yell. Please. Just let it go."

Matt's face goes from rage to wrapped-around-Row's-little-finger in a second as his arms automatically move to comfort her. "Doodle, you scared me. I can't let it go. I fucking hate the thought of Gorenson and his damn hands—"

"I know. Daddy, I didn't...we weren't...it wasn't real. He just wants to capitalize on me. I wanted to do the same to him. Trace made me see it was wrong. Just forget about Ratch. I'm going to. Trace and Kat...they are so in love they make me sad." She gestures at me and Kat. "I just wanna sleep." She slips away and practically crawls into the limo.

Matt stares after her like he doesn't recognize her. He turns to me. "How the hell did you tame that hellraiser? I figured it was going to be Armageddon, with an arsenal of F-bombs. I was fully prepared to tazer my own daughter to get her back on the plane."

I shrugged. "We just...uhhh...smoked a bowl with her and talked her down. Oh. And I told her Strut could open for Soundcrush this fall."

"You what?" Matt growls.

I hold up my hands. "Hey man, you said whatever it took."

Matt's pupils narrow down to nothing, even in the dark. He looks like he might explode.

"Her band's got the chops. You know they do. It isn't right, that they get buried under all this," I say calmly. He's my dad, and I don't want to piss him off, but I'm not going to cow-tow to him either. I'm a grown ass man.

He cracks his neck—another eerily familiar gesture we share—and sighs. "Fuck. You gonna look out for her? I mean it, like really look out for her? Not just with dudes, but with the industry types? Like she's your damn sister?"

"Of course. She is my little sister, after all."

Beside me, Kat rubs my arm. "He is pretty experienced with that."

Matt rubs the back of his neck, looks up and down the crowded Vegas street like he doesn't even know how he got here, and swears. "Fuck, alright then. But she doesn't sign shit with anybody until I sit down with them."

"Of course," I agree.

Matt grins. "You have no idea what trouble you just bought yourself. Row's a damn handful."

"Yeah, I can tell," I laugh. "It's all good. I've got a guy, he's used to helping me handle my crazy women."

Matt slaps me on the back. "It's only about fours hours until we tell we meet a roomful of legitimate press as father and son. We might as well forget about sleep and push through to til dawn. Party in the penthouse—let's go!"

"I don't know...we are fucking wrecked." I have a plane to catch after that junket, and I'm a greedy son of a bitch that wants every last second I can get with Kat.

Matt laughs. "Naw man, you are fucking baked, Trace. We gotta fix that; you can't meet the press like that." He bounces on his toes, slapping me on the arm before diving into the limo, fully expecting us to follow. He's throwing shit out of a huge bag, yelling "Annie, where are the damn eyedrops?! You got any of those diet pills? Trace needs some pep!" and Marianne is threatening him with a hairbrush telling him to stop messing with her purse.

"I'm not taking any speed," I growl as I lean down in the doorway. "That shit makes my skin crawl!"

"Fine," Matt paws at me, "We'll pump you full of espresso."

Kat is giggling, hanging onto my arm. "It's good to know that your dad can still go all night at fifty," she whispers.

"I think he's got the right idea—staying up til the sun rises— but I'm more interested in a party of two, right now," I whisper back.

"Then get in the goddamn limo!" she whispers and I comply eagerly.