Music Lights & Never Afters Read online

  The worst part of living a non-famous life; parent-teacher conferences. They’d have Royce—my driver and bodyguard—take me as a pseudo-parent. He’d become so much more than his job title, taking care of the little things people didn’t consider important.

  I’d lived a relatively mundane life, aside from when it came to nannies, quality time with my parents, and having a good authoritative structure.

  But what the fuck did I know? I’m only eighteen.

  “I’m surprised,” she mused, standing to grab my coffee. When she came back, setting the mug down, her eyes seemed to dissect me. “Andy wanted to hang out with you before you went to college; I figured since you wanted to go to Brookewood University, you could scout out the city beforehand.”

  I nodded, acting as if I cared. Truly, going to college seemed boring and wasteful. When Andy told me she’d gone to Dupont, I’d laughed. She didn’t seem the nerdy type.

  You don't know her anymore.

  It'd been almost two years since I’d seen her last. She must’ve changed. Don’t we all after crossing lines? We used to have fun, and her friends were my kind of people. Laid-back, reckless, interesting.

  Back then, I’d easily passed for eighteen. Now, at eighteen, with my height, and menacing scowl, I probably appeared twenty-one.

  Plus, my fake ID never failed me.

  “Do you know what you want to major in?” She sipped her coffee, interest in her gaze. Mom wanted me to have a career far from fame. The only thing mildly appealing had been tattooing. Dane from Crossed Over, a shop in town, let me practice whenever they were empty.

  “Honestly...” I trailed off, shrugging, unsure of what to say but wanting to appease her. Music fueled my passion but it also drove my antipathy. Resentment filled my veins whenever I belted out my own lyrics, let alone those of Dad and his best friend’s. “I’m thinking I’ll go into producing.”

  “Music?” she questioned. Instead of a proud expression, her face paled. As soon as it marred her face, she put on her show smile. “Wonderful news.”

  I felt how much she didn’t want stardom for me. It teased my skin with an ick film, staining me with the disappointment she felt.

  After all, Dad married his career, and she followed him for love. She never wanted that. Who would want to sacrifice everything—privacy and peace included—just for notoriety?

  “It’s up in the air, don’t stress.”

  With that, her shoulders settled, briefly falling before she went back to her newspaper. “Since you don’t have school today, I figured you could stop by your dad’s studio and congratulate him on another two million records sold.”

  I nodded absently, wondering why hearing it from her seemed like a secondhand breakup and not an in-person one.

  “Can I take the Viper?” She narrowed her eyes before shrugging. Mom hardly let me take her baby. She must’ve felt horrible for once again leaving me high and dry with another family member.

  Chapter Two

  Let Me Be Sad – I Prevail

  Madden

  “Do you love me, or do you just love fucking me!” Dad belted out. His rage through his vocals always brought fans to their knees, wanting to praise him, do anything for a taste.

  Dox Reaver was a rock god, a man everyone wanted and no one could have, not even my mom.

  My parents experienced many moments where others tested their loyalty to one another. The infidelity aside, they somehow always came back together, stitching the fucked-up-ness they called love.

  “I hate that I fucked you,” he rasped, the grit to his tone settling in my bones. “I hate that I needed you, I hate that I had you, I hate that our love was unstable!” His voice carried as he screamed into the mic, banging his head with the background beat, in tune with the sound he created.

  My dad was a legend, spending his entire life lusting for notoriety, sacrificing every goddamn moment meant for me. We only had one life, and he chose to spend it with the world instead of me.

  Couldn’t blame him; attention seduced the best of us.

  Suddenly, Roxanne—Dad’s producer—stopped his set. His eyes flew to mine, and a lazy smile took over.

  Yeah, he was shitty in the parent department, but Dad loved me to the end of the earth. He waved, and I offered a salute, not knowing what to say.

  He was leaving. Again.

  He was turning his back. Again.

  He was picking fame and fortune over me. Again.

  It fucking hurt. The bitterness I’d felt for years always crept up when his touring came again. It didn’t help that even when he didn’t tour, he practiced and wrote songs, producing constantly. We were like friends, but all I ever wanted was for him to be my dad.

  The light turned off in the studio, and he came through the door in a rush. “Toland, my boy!” he hollered far too loud. I cringed. As if only just realizing he took out his earplugs. “My bad.”

  “Congrats on your sales,” I commended, not feeling it at all. His eyes, bloodshot and strained, didn’t falter, almost as if nothing went on in there.

  “Thank you,” he mused, coming in for a hug. Smelling of sweat, booze, and cologne, I still felt connected to him, experienced the odd sense of love he offered. His arms wrapped tightly around me before he kissed the crown of my head. “I’m going to miss you, kiddo.”

  “Me too,” I barely murmured, knowing saying anything else would drive me mad and the tears would come too.

  “I’ll send videos, pictures, the whole shebang,” he offered, but all hope deflated in me. Dad got so consumed to the point of alcoholism and drug addiction every tour. Mom had to keep him out of the deep end every fucking time.

  When we separated, he made a gesture to Roxanne, and Donnie—the other half of Windowless Skies—letting them know he’d be leaving. That was the thing with Dad, he had all the power to walk away, but he wouldn’t. Much like alcohol and drugs, his addictive personality drowned itself with love from others.

  “Think you’d be willing to fly to the UK when I get to London?”

  I nodded, knowing the idea would be deemed fruitless. Dad had these big dreams, always offering and never following through, disappointing me more than if he’d never invited me. Mom kept me away from seeing him when he spiraled. His relapses forced her to separate us by entire continents.

  Every single time.

  I loved him still, though.

  Too goddamn much.

  “You’re already eighteen, which means we can get drunk together,” he mused, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. While that sounded nice, getting my hopes up always ended with disappointment.

  “That’ll be fun,” I concurred, walking with him as he led me to his private car.

  “Your mom told me you got expelled. What happened?” Dad asked me as we waited for our food to come. Tension tightened between my shoulder blades, zipping me up in its own anxiety-ridden corset.

  “Fighting,” I answered, grabbing the complimentary water the server left us with. My chest ached with the tinge of disapproval in Dad’s face.

  It wasn’t unjustified. That kid straight up attacked a girl, I needed to do something.

  “I’m not against needing to get the anger out,” Dad started, sitting back in his chair. The way he always seemed both tempered and cool had me nervous. He seemed so blasé. I wished I had a lack of anger like that. I’d built this prison for myself where only anger thrived. While caged, it became unhinged, slowly breaking down the walls and wreaking havoc on the rest of me.

  “I didn’t do it out of frustration, Dad,” I muttered, sweat lining my forehead and spine. My breaths came in short and quickly, my palms warming with his expression. It was probably fairly cool in here, but when he watched me with this much precision, my body didn’t know the difference in temperatures. How could he offer a scolding like a parent but not be present when necessary? “A douche kid tried raping a female student.”

  The way his eyes opened wider, his mouth going a bit slack, would seem comical if it wasn’t an unusual gesture for him. Seldomly did Dad get surprised. He seemed to expect everything, even when he was drunk or toasted.

  “Your mom didn’t tell me that,” he muttered, his expression still dumbfounded.

  “She didn’t give me a chance to tell her before shipping me off to Andy’s.” Dad closed his eyes, thinking or struggling with himself somehow. I didn’t know the difference anymore.

  “I’m sorry, I knew she was really upset.”

  I waved him off, not needing his pity. If they were both around more, they’d understand I didn’t do shit without reasoning.

  I only acted when necessary, and it generally wasn’t blowing up at random people.

  The waiter dropped off our food. Dad got a huge thing of shrimp cocktail, along with a lemon salmon dish. It looked disgusting. Unlike my parents, my tastes hadn’t enriched over the years. Fish still freaked me out, textures bothered me, and I would rather eat chicken tenders and fries than whatever the hell they were trying.

  Luckily, Sancho’s Habana had more than fish. I ordered the massive platter of tacos, tostadas, and chile relleno. It was my favorite, and I surprisingly ate a lot more than my parents combined.

  Dad stared at my food hungrily, and I chuckled. “What, you don’t want your nasty fish?” He glowered at me, a piece of fish on his fork directed at me.

  “I’ll have you know, my food is exquisite.”

  Staring at the fleshy meat, I cringed. “Barely edible and exquisite are two very different adjectives, Dad.”

  He chuckled, stuffing the bite in his mouth. It was always nice catching up with him. We might have spent the majority of my life apart, but when he could be, he was here and supportive. I missed the way his face curved with smiles and the lack of crease lines above his
forehead.

  When Windowless Skies broke up for two years, it was a blessing. Dad was always around. We went to hockey games, shows, and he even took me to the beach and swam with me all day once. I enjoyed those times with him, knowing he wanted to be here... with me.

  Dad and Donnie’s wife, Celine, had an affair. They were still technically my godparents, but tensions were still high. Dad and Celine were short-lived, drug-induced, and the worst thing he ever did to my mom, but she somehow forgave him. Said she loved him more than his mistakes and they were worth fixing it. As soon as Donnie and he made amends, he started the new album, and now they were headed for a world tour, starting in Europe.

  Dad had a secret love for London, he said it was a place he often saw himself lost in, enjoying the muggy weather and lack of sun.

  He felt for London as I did for Brightmore. Home away from home.

  “Mom says you’re headed to college next fall,” Dad mentioned after he ate a bit more. His face was flushed, probably the booze he had before we got here settling with his food. Dad wasn’t a lightweight, so he must’ve had a ton of something to be this fuzzy already.

  “Yeah, was thinking producing.” Dad’s eyes widened at that, interest settled there. “Or art, since I started that mentorship at Crossed Over a month ago.” Unfortunately, I’d have to leave Dane, letting him know I would be moving to Brightmore for the foreseeable future.

  “Music or tattooing, no shit?” Amusement tickled his features, the crow’s feet popping through. Dad was only thirty-four, young and alive. It showed. Mom and Dad had me at sixteen. Which explained a lot.

  “Yep,” I mused, thinking of how I already wanted to ink up my skin. Dane wouldn’t let me until I was more prepared and practiced, but he said I do great work. I’d been drawing since junior high.

  “I thought you’d want to sing like your old man.” He took a drink of his wine, smiling gently. I did want to go into music to make him proud... but Mom didn’t want that for me.

  “I do,” I admitted, dragging my lip through my teeth. “Mom doesn’t want me to be in the spotlight.”

  He made a weird noise as if to say forget about it without the words. “She’s just worried you’ll stop being around, stop needing her.”

  I didn’t want to mention that I hadn’t needed them in years, but the knife wanted a place to be jabbed. “I’ll always need her. She’s my mom.”

  While I’d been fully independent for years, it was true. I loved my parents through it all, I just wish I had them for longer, experienced more life with them.

  He reached over, clapping my shoulder. “One day, you’ll own Windowless Skies and Vertigo Records. The world will be yours, Toland.”

  The look in his eyes, an expression of pure pride and love, had me taken aback. He seemed so proud of me and it had me choking up.

  “What if I’m not any good?”

  “With parents who have amazing pipes, you’re bound to have your own. Plus, you’ve been on stage, you have a crisp and unique rasp to your voice. It’s timeless.”

  I couldn’t get over how much I felt when he said these words to me, but I felt complete for once in my life.

  “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you too, kiddo. Always.”

  Chapter Three

  Rainy Day – Ice Nine Kills

  Madden

  After brunch, Dad dropped me off at Carson’s, taking Mom’s Viper home. I’d be leaving for Andy’s tomorrow morning and wanted to say goodbye to my best friend.

  “Yo, loser,” he called as soon as he answered the door. I smirked as he let me inside his house. Carson Patel was the only friend of mine who knew my dad. Not Royce—who everyone thought was my dad—but Dox Reaver, the famous musician.

  Usually, I avoided the parent conversation, but Cars was different. He didn’t have a fanboy bone in his body, and it solidified our friendship. We clicked. It was hard to find people who were genuine and I thanked my lucky stars for him every single day.

  “I’ll be heading to Andy’s for the next few months,” I grumbled in admission, climbing the stairs to his room. While the prospect of being with Andy was something I’d yearned for, not seeing my parents or Cars wounded me like no other. He kept me sane, making sure we held both our demons at bay.

  Andy would keep me busy, and hopefully wouldn’t catch on to the crush I’ve yet to let go of. It festered, the softness of her cheeks, the way her plump lips moved as she spoke about her passions, it got me into trouble.

  Cars’s cedar and gossamer green eyes connected with mine. It took me all of five seconds to realize he was staring at my bruised face and not reacting to my moving away. My fists were much worse than my face, but they weren’t constantly in everyone’s line of sight.

  Did I mention the asshole I pulled off Tammy sucker punched me? My skin was still purple from the hit. But him? He was in the hospital and learned a valuable lesson; he’d never fucking touch someone without their consent again.

  “I’ll be fine,” I reassured him, watching as he gawked openly. Speechlessness didn’t come often for him, but he seemed worried. Cars wasn’t one for violence. With his delicate yet sharp features and kind eyes, he mirrored a teddy bear and not a vicious beast.

  “I heard it was bad from Ilya, but I didn’t realize your face looked this discolored,” he said, reaching for said face. His fingers hovered above the purple. It wasn’t like I was unused to bruises. Fighting was my first instinct over talking it out, and the entire school knew it.

  I shrugged. “Could’ve been worse. He could be dead, and I’d be in prison. So, we’re good.”

  Blinking slowly, he finally touched my face. “What did Tony do?” Giving him a slighted brow and questionable expression, showing how obvious it was, he nodded. “Who to this time?”

  “Tam,” I responded, and he nodded solemnly, biting the inside of his cheek. “I’d been leaving the lunchroom to ditch social studies to smoke. He was on top of her behind the building as she whimpered for him to stop...” I trailed off, allowing the silence to speak for words that didn’t need repeating.

  “Fuck,” he hissed, shaking his head. “Is she okay?”

  Rubbing my chin, I contemplated the question. Sure, she didn’t get raped, but fuck, that kind of trauma didn’t just go away. Saying she was fine would be cruel, she didn’t deserve for it to be brushed off. “Honestly, I’m not sure. It might haunt her forever.” With those words, we both sat in silence for a moment.

  Men took advantage of women daily, but when they started out young like Tony and his fucks for friends, they only worsened and did it more frequently.

  Hopefully, this taught him a lesson, and there was no doubt my parents would be writing a massive check so I didn’t have this on my record. Sending me to Andy probably had more to do with hiding me than having a babysitter. I stopped needing a babysitter when they started being attractive to me. I didn’t have them watching me, instead, I watched them as we got off together.

  “I can’t believe you’re ditching me,” he finally offered. Cars would always be my number one. No matter what happened, he’d always been by my side. Our friendship transcended time and distance; it would outlive everything.

  “Can’t believe I’ll be spending the summer fucking my way through people while you’re here being lame.”

  “Being asexual doesn’t make me lame, you dick,” he grumbled, glaring at me. He touched my face once more before heading to his couch, sitting down and unable to hide his disappointment. I laughed, knowing it was true. The correlation from my previous sentence came out wrong. Correlation didn’t always mean causation.

  Carson identified as gender-fluid and asexual. He struggled with the label, which I couldn't fault him for, and told me as soon as he felt right in his definition. He felt fairly fluid in the ace department too. The idea of sex made him uncomfortable, especially after what happened to him his freshman year. He loved porn, hentai, and talking about it in great detail, but the act of sex itself wasn’t something he cared to do.

  His family’s origins were India, Gujarat specifically. A place that expanses into the Arabian Sea. One day, he wanted us to go there. Experience the parts of his heritage he never got the chance to.