Two Punks In Love

Prologue

Trace. Flash Forward Six Months.

I don't mean to sound like an arrogant prick, but this can't be happening to me. Rock stars don't get left at the altar.

It's two days before my wedding, but I'm already standing in the spot where I'm supposed to marry the love of my life. A set of white stone stairs behind me lead up to a wide veranda at the back of an Italian Villa. Two more sets on either side descend from this generous landing down to the lawn. The villa, the estate, the view of Florence below us, it's nothing short of breathtaking, but I can't enjoy any of it. I'm pacing like a caged carnivore.

And all I can't think right now is:

Don't do this to me, Katheryn Ballard. I need  you forever, and I need you now.

She's supposed to be here, with me, in our second home, preparing for the happiest day of our lives. I bought this place for her as an engagement present. As soon as she saw it, she wanted to have the wedding here. She worked for months on the preparations. We've been together seven years, and living together half of that. Excepting a very rough start, we've been incredibly happy. Every day we've been growing towards this, building to our perfect wedding day.

Recently, shit has gone spectacularly sideways, and as of two days ago, Kat went AWOL from our wedding week.

I tug on my hair, staring blankly down at our sprawling lawn, where teams of people are working to stage my upcoming nuptials. The reception tents at the back of the lawn are being filled with tables. Directly below the landing, newly erected columns that mark out the area for the ceremony seating are getting wrapped with orange and gold gauze. Plywood and carpet are being installed down the middle of the seating area, to make sure the bridal walk is smooth and uneventful.

I watch them build the aisle, and I'm far from certain at this point if Kat's going to walk down it.

Strong hands grip my shoulders as tightly as my own clinch the railing. "This is par for the course, Son. Rock star weddings don't ever run smooth. I hate to tell you this, but you, like me, like so many of musicians, are high strung, okay? And when we get freaked out, we stress the women we love, even when we don't mean to. That's all this is...a rock star moment. Kat needed a breather.. Your brother will find her. The show will go on. It always does."

I bow my head at my father's words. He's probably been involved in a lot of rock star weddings. Although Matt got it right the first time, when he married Marianne, the same can't be said for most rock stars. The three other members of his own band have probably been married nearly a dozen times.

It's been ten years since I've hit the big time with my band Soundcrush, and a little less time than that since I've known the man standing with me is my biological father. My bio-dad, as I like to refer to him, is Matt del Marco, the iconic frontman for Skid Marcs, biggest rock band of the last forty years. Music must run in the blood, because I found my way to a spotlight in a stadium crowd before I knew I was his son.

Becoming Matt del Marco's son at the age of twenty-one was surprisingly easier than becoming a rock star. He's a damn good mentor. More than that—his heart is twenty-four carat. I can count on him to steer me right nearly always, his own rock star moments notwithstanding.

And not right now. He doesn't know fuck about fuck right now.

He's a johnny-come-lately when it comes to me and my girl-next-door. He doesn't really know the depth of understanding between Kat and me. I've known Kat my whole life. Shit, I've known her for two lives. The one I lived as a angry kid that sang to her across the dark night between our neighboring houses. Then the one I live now, as the leader and kick-ass guitarist of my band that's larger than life. Through it all, Kat has been there. She is my anchor to everything good and real, and she has been since we were climbing trees as kids in the suburbs of Atlanta.