TANTRIC (Book 3 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 29: Front Men Talk It Out With Rock Stars

A treat for you, my Peaches! Updates two days in a row! This is a just a little chapter where Leed and Trace have a meeting of minds, so to speak. 

The song, Whatever It Takes, by Imagine Dragons, typifies these two band leaders. They will do whatever it takes to ensure Soundcrush and their Inner Circle thrive. 

Enjoy!

Leed

I lay with my head on the front steps of Trace's place looking up a the smoggy sky.

"Sometimes I fucking hate it here," I say lazily. "Adam's got the right idea, you know? The music scene is still crackin' in Nashville, and you can see the goddamn stars."

"Careful, Lion. You sound like a man at risk of losing his edge." Trace casually offers his pipe, but I wave it away.

"Naw," Typically I'm a purist. I don't mix my substances. Drunk is one thing. I can function drunk. Stoned is another. I can work with that even better. Drunk and stoned is just a fucking mess. "Too drunk." A sloppy snicker escapes me. "So drunk I just proposed, man. Me. I asked a girl I haven't even slept with to marry me. For a year. Maybe longer, but maybe not."

"You really went through with that marriage contract nonsense?"

"Yeah. Obviously you were right. Bad idea. She's mad as hell."

A longer hesitation. "You really haven't slept with her yet?"

"Naw. I mean, we've messed around, but she won't take her clothes off and I...I can't...you know? Not if she's not completely comfortable."

"Yeah."

"Goddammn. That was stupid, wasn't it? To ask her to marry me under contract for a year?"

Trace doesn't laugh. "Yeah, but don't feel too bad. Been there. Done that. Bought the misery for both of us. That's how I know—Ashlynn does not need a second season of Fake Housewives of LA."

"It's not the same, though. That's the thing. I love her. I would take care of her in every way. I'd make her happy, not miserable."

Trace lets loose a long, exasperating breath. "Leed, if you need a one year out-clause, you're bullshitting yourself. You know, deep down, you haven't put the time in for that kind of commitment. Also you just don't understand what love means to a woman. Not very many chics could swallow that shit you just fronted. Especially not Ashlynn. Think about it from her perspective for a goddamn minute. She needs security more than any person I know. You telling her you love her enough to marry her but maybe not enough to promise to love her forever? That's probably the scariest, shakiest ground you could have put her on, man. Now she's probably terrified to let herself love you, because what if you're the one for her, but you walk it back in a year?"

As Trace's words sink in, I suddenly feel like I might puke, but it has nothing do with the alcohol. I roll over on my side, moaning.

"If you puke, you're hosing it off," Trace warns.

I moan again and change my mind about Trace's pipe. A smallish hit is all I need to stop this sick feeling. I make a "gimme" hand motion and Trace hands it over. I lay back and wait for the feeling that I might hurl to subside and a little peace to set in.

Finally, I get calm. Calmer than I have been since this afternoon, before I saw the paintings. And with the calm, comes clarity.

"I'm such a dumbass. I made a horrible situation ten times worse. I made her future look as scary as her past."

"Yeah, but you'll fix it," Trace says. "The one thing about Ash is...she's also more forgiving than any person I know."

"She's beautiful, man. Inside and out. I'm so fucking glad you have Kat blinders, because otherwise you would have seen that and treated Ash like she deserves when you were married to her. And you would have turned that fake marriage into something real, and I would be SOL."