LUCAS BLADE: Radical Rock Stars: Next Generation Duet Book 1 Read online

  She continued to glare at him and eyed him suspiciously. “Do you have my wires?”

  “What wires?”

  “The wires to my amp. For my axe.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder, toward a folding utility wagon with wheels. Inside sat a cabinet amp and a guitar case.

  “No. I don’t have your wires. My guitar’s acoustic.”

  She cocked her jaw to the side while she studied him. “Stand up.”

  He chuckled. She was a fiery little thing, filled with attitude. “I’m not standing up. I told you, I don’t have your wires, hon.”

  “Hon?” She leaned back, outrage making her eyes widen. “Don’t call me hon. I’m not your honey.”

  This chick had a temper, and her attitude both infuriated him and turned him on, equally. “Calm down. I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just an expression.”

  She narrowed her eyes and glared at him before she stomped away and returned to her things. She snatched her duffle off the sand and threw it into the wagon, hastily rolled the blanket into a ball and tossed it on top, then stuck a floppy hat on her head and wheeled the wagon down the beach. Before she headed up the ramp that led to the boardwalk, she turned and looked at Lucas. He thought she was going to wave, but instead, she flipped him the finger.

  He was stunned and stood there with his hand raised halfway, ready to return a wave that never came. His arm dropped to his side, and an amused laugh burst from his lips.

  When Lucas returned from his walk, the delicious scent of Cuban spices hit him as soon as he entered the house. A home-cooked meal was exactly what he needed. It welcomed him like a warm crackling fire on a snowy winter night. He followed his nose toward the kitchen and found Papi at the stove. A chef by trade, Angel Garcia was as at home in the kitchen preparing an authentic meal for the family as he was mesmerizing 100,000 people on stage with his dynamic showmanship and powerful vocals.

  Tessa assisted Papi, both wearing aprons with novelty sayings on the front. Papi’s said, “Mr. Good Lookin’ is Cookin’”, and Tessa’s said, “Classy, Sassy, and A Bit Smart Assy”. They were Christmas presents from his mom. Papi and Tessa worked with precision, each concentrating on their own tasks but acting as a team. Tessa sampled Papi’s arroz con pollo, while he tasted one of her empanadas. With the same dark hair and eyes and tanned complexions, the two of them looked so much alike right now.

  So far, Lucas also noted that fufú de plátano – Cuban mashed plantains – and yucca con mojo, were also on the menu, and he wondered if tonight’s feast was to ease his broken heart, which hurt a hell of a lot less than it did a few hours ago.

  “Lucas, my boy!” Papi smiled as wide as his cheeks would allow. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I wasn’t, but I am now.” He put his nose in the air and inhaled the scent of garlic, onions and cilantro. “It smells great.”

  “Thank you. We’ve been cooking like crazy. And look what Tessa made.” Papi moved to the counter and displayed a large cake as if he were presenting a prize on a game show. “Espresso dark chocolate cake with salted dulce de leche buttercream.”

  It was Lucas’ favorite, and he knew his sister made it especially for him. It was beautifully decorated with scrolls and scallops. “Wow. Can I start with the cake?”

  “Absolutely not,” Papi replied, playfully, before his expression slowly turned remorseful. “I’m so sorry about Holly. It must have been awful.”

  “I’m over it,” Lucas lied, immediately glancing at Tessa.

  “Don’t look at me,” she said. “I didn’t tell him. Dad did.”

  There were no secrets in this family.

  “I wasn’t prying into your business,” Papi said. “Your dad felt very badly about it.”

  “Why should he feel bad?” Empathy stabbed at Lucas because he knew his father was innocent. It was all Holly. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Because he’s your dad. He loves you kids more than anything in the world. He feels very guilty.”

  Lucas’ heart sank at the thought of his father taking responsibility for Holly’s behavior. “Where is he? I should talk to him.”

  “In the great room.”

  Lucas swiped his finger through the buttercream on Tessa’s cake and sucked it into his mouth, which got a towel thrown at his back by his lively sister. It was totally worth it. He found his dad sitting in the great room, Les Paul across his lap.

  His dad stopped playing as soon as Lucas entered the room. “Hey.” Lucas’ dad stood and hugged him. It was a big bear hug with both arms, warm and heartfelt. “You were gone for a long time. I was worried about you.”

  “I went for a walk on the beach,” Lucas replied.

  “I hope you’re not mad at me. I feel terrible, son. I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  “Dad, it’s OK.”

  “No. It’s not. That was a shitty fucking thing she did. I mean, really shitty. And if that were me, I don’t know who I would lash out at first.”

  Lucas let out a heavy sigh and sat down. “I thought a lot about what happened today. And, yeah. It was really shitty. I’m hurt, but I feel like an idiot more than anything else.”

  His dad sat next to him, cupped his shoulder, and waited for him to continue.

  “I decided I’m not gonna dwell on it. If I didn’t mean that much to her, she’s not worth my time and energy.” Was that Tessa’s advice?

  “Good. That’s a healthy way to look at it. I want you to know that she never did anything like that before, and I was going to tell you. You know I wouldn’t keep something like that from you, right?”

  He never doubted his father. They’d always been close and open with one another, and there were no barriers about subject matters. Heavy conversations had come at an early age in regard to his parents’ polyamorous relationship. Questions had been plentiful and they’d been answered honestly, solidifying that no topics were off the table. He nodded his reply and glanced at the Les Paul on the couch, remembering the first time he’d played the legendary instrument that his father held near to his heart. “What were you playing when I came in?”

  “A riff that was in my head. I think it’s gonna turn into a new Immortal Angel song.”

  Immortal Angel, his dad and Papi’s old-school punk rock band, had been topping the charts for over 20 years, and they were still making new music and touring the world. As kids, Lucas and Tessa had traveled with the rest of the band and their families, including Jimmy Wilder’s son, Mason, who was like a brother to Lucas. They had crossed the country in a massive double-decker tour bus, along with nannies and half a toy store. Tours had been short and revolved around the kids and their needs, but time on the road also gave Lucas and Tessa valuable lessons about the music industry and the opportunity to bond with everyone. They were all one big family.

  Lucas’ father picked up the Les Paul and held it lovingly in his hands. “I’ve lost count of how many songs I’ve written on this baby. She’s been with me for the better part of my life. Almost as long as I’ve known your mother. Do you remember the first time I let you play this beauty? The first song I taught you?”

  “Enter Sandman.” Lucas loved the instrument almost as much as his father did. He remembered how, when he was a kid, he used to watch his dad play it like a madman. He had sat, mesmerized, while his father punched out power chords that blew his little mind. He had thought the instrument was magical back then. Later, he learned that the magic belonged to his dad.

  “I thought I heard you come in.” Lucas’ mom stood in the archway to the great room. Jessi Blade was still the most sought-after designer in the rock and roll industry. Each of his three parents were successful in their own right for their individual talents. Lucas was equally proud of all of them, but his mother held a special place in his heart. She juggled a family, supported her husbands’ band, and carved out a name for herself in the fashion industry. Her hair had gone through a number of colors since Lucas had been a little boy, but she had recently dyed
it back to her, and his, favorite shade of hot pink.

  She held a large sketch book in her arms which covered most of her torso, but the fringed edges of a furry vest bordered her shoulders and a studded belt peeked out from below. She was still the trendiest mom on the planet. Empathy shown in her eyes, indicating that everyone in the house knew about his break up with Holly, but she didn’t say anything about it, and Lucas was grateful for that. She approached the couch and turned the sketch book around to show them one of her drawings. “What do you think?” It was one of her famous leather jackets. This one had coattails. It also had her signature studded embellishments, including spikes along the sleeves that started at the wrist and gradually grew larger until they covered the shoulders like menacing daggers. Next to it was a top hat with matching spikes around the rim.

  Lucas’ dad smiled at the sketch. “I guess that’s for Angel, so he can skewer me on stage.”

  She smiled back. “You know the fans love the way the two of you interact during a show.”

  By “interact”, his mom meant the erotic way his dad and Papi played off each other on stage. It drove the fans crazy, but often left Lucas’ cheeks tinged pink. Not to mention his sister’s. His parents’ affection never waned over the years. There was so much allure between them that it was embarrassing sometimes. There could be worse things than your parents showing their love for one another, he reasoned, and forced his eyes back to the sketch. “It looks great, Mom.”

  “Thank you. When are you going to let me design something for you?”

  Lucas held up his index finger as if placing an order. “I’ll take a new pair of jeans and a rock tee. I’ll wear it every day. Promise”

  “That is what you wear every day.” She dropped her shoulders and brought her sketch pad to her side. “Your mother is a fashion designer and you wear jeans and T-shirts every day. You’re just as bad as your father. This one.” She pointed to Lucas’ dad. “Papi’s a dream to design for. And, of course, my girl Tessa.”

  Lucas’ dad slung an arm over his shoulder. “That’s us. Jeans and T-shirts.”

  “Fine.” Lucas’ mom rolled her eyes, playfully. “I’ll go find my other husband. The one who appreciates my work.”

  She turned to leave but Lucas’ dad jumped up, caught her by the arm and pulled her onto the couch. “Get over here, hon. We’re just messing with you. You know we love your designs.”

  She obviously wanted to say something about what happened with Holly, but not in front of his dad. She often preferred to talk to Lucas one on one, rather than bombard him with parental advice. Growing up with three parents had plenty of advantages. It usually meant he always had at least one of them on his side, an easy ally. But when they had banded together, there was little he could do to persuade a wall of parents.

  She placed her sketch pad on the marble coffee table and folded her hands between her knees. His dad knew right away that she wanted privacy. They had some kind of weird mental telepathy going on that Lucas never saw between anyone else, not even between his dad and Papi or between his mom and Papi.

  Lucas’ dad kissed his mom on the cheek, stood and picked up his Les Paul. “I’m gonna see if Angel needs any taste testers in the kitchen and maybe grab a swim before dinner.”

  Lucas felt most relaxed with his mother, always able to broach the hardest subjects with her. She never pried. Never pushed. But always knew when he needed her. She opened her sketch pad and flipped through the pages, waiting for him to start.

  “I broke up with Holly today.”

  She immediately abandoned her sketch pad and focused her attention on him. “I’m very sorry, baby. She seemed like she cared about you.”

  “You heard what she did, right? With Dad.”

  “Yes. I take back what I said. She’s a bitch.” His mom smiled for a few seconds, then patted his knee and turned serious again. “People aren’t always honest about their intentions, especially when fame and money are concerned.”

  He nodded, having learned that lesson at an early age. Although he’d gone to a private school and lived in an affluent neighborhood, there weren’t many mega superstars living in the area. Parents of his classmates had often tried to force friendships and set up playdates so they could interact with his dads and Immortal Angel. Or get discounted designer clothing from his mom.

  “Don’t let it make you bitter or distrusting.” She cupped his chin in her hand. “You’re too sweet for that. And you know I’m always here when you want to talk.”

  “I know.” Another aspect of having three parents is having to discuss everything multiple times, good and bad.

  She picked up her sketch pad and flipped through it. “I’m working on a new logo for Prodigy and new merch designs.”

  He leaned forward, eager to see what she had created for his band. Although Prodigy had been playing the local underground music scene for years and already had a following, once they signed a recording contract everything needed to be rebranded. She showed him several different possible designs, but he liked one more than the rest. “I like this one.”

  “Me too. I’m still playing around with it though. This is just a very rough draft. Once I have additional solid designs to choose from, I’ll see what Tessa and Mason think.”

  “You mean you didn’t show them to Tessa yet?”

  “No. Just you.”

  He knew that part of his mom secretly wished Tessa would have pursued a career as a fashion designer instead of getting into the music industry. Tessa was a talented designer and often made outfits with his mom, but the band was Tessa’s heart and soul. No one was more dedicated to the band than his sister. Since his mom bypassed Tessa’s opinion and brought the sketches straight to him, he knew it was her way of comforting him without making a bigger deal out of what had happened with Holly. Maybe he was a mama’s boy, but the small act of compassion made his heart melt.

  Sindy Cavanaugh always considered herself a musician, although she knew she’d never be able to support herself playing the guitar. Without a band to back her, she was a rogue rocker. If she could sing better, maybe people would drop more than a few coins her way, but she was grateful for every penny. Although she made decent money waiting tables at the diner, she needed extra money in order to move into a decent apartment, so she turned to her skills as a guitarist. Playing inside the local coffee shop, instead of on the beach, provided shelter from the inclement weather and a free latte.

  A five-dollar bill landed in her guitar case, and she immediately looked up at the girl who deposited it there. They looked to be about the same age, only this girl had a layer of coolness about her that blew Sindy away. From her rich black hair to her studded platform stiletto boots, this chick rocked.

  “Don’t stop. You play really well.” The girl’s friendly smile mimicked her generosity.

  Sindy continued with the song, her voice cracking in the same place it always did when she couldn’t reach the high note in Welcome to the Jungle. She made up for it with a few extra notes on the guitar. Insecure about her singing voice, but confident in her proficiency on the guitar, she focused on her chord progression and jazzed up the song by putting a spin on the riff. She didn’t realize that her vocals had dwindled to barely a mumble until this cool-looking chick took over.

  She had the voice of a star, with an edgy rock and roll vibe. Her vocals were strong and loud, obviously that of an experienced singer. When the song ended, a group of patrons stood in front of them, instead of sitting with their heads buried in their phones or laptops, lost in their own little world like they usually did. A round of applause erupted, and the guitar case overflowed with cash and coins. Sindy hopped off the stool, thanked everyone, and collected the money from her case. Holy shit. There had to be fifty bucks in there.

  “Great name.” It was the singer, still lingering, probably waiting for her cut while mostly everyone else went back to what they were doing. The girl pointed to the lettering on the guitar case. “I like the play on the sp
elling. Sindy with an “S” instead of a “C”. It’s really cool. I’m Tessa.”

  “Thanks. I wanted something different. Edgy.” Sindy shuffled the bills so they faced the same direction while she counted it. Forty-one dollars, not including the change. She hated parting with the money, but she couldn’t keep it all for herself when this girl is the one who garnered the crowd. She split the cash in half and extended it toward Tessa. “Here’s your half.”

  “I don’t want that. It’s yours.”

  “No. Take it.” Sindy waved the money in her hand. “It would have taken me all day to make this. You deserve it. You’re a phenomenal singer.”

  “Thank you. But keep it.”

  “No. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Seriously, I’m not taking it. Just buy me a cup of coffee, and we’ll call it even.”

  They sat at a small bistro table, Sindy with a latte, Tessa with a regular coffee. “Do you sing professionally?” Sindy asked. “Are you in a band?”

  Tessa nodded. “Yes. My brother plays guitar, our friend plays the drums, and I sing and play the bass. The three of us have been playing together since we were kids. Not professionally, though. We’ve been playing the neighborhood bars and clubs.”

  “You play and sing?” Sindy was doubly impressed. “You’re multi-talented.”

  Tessa let out a short modest laugh. “Thanks. Singing is easy. Learning the bass was hard. What about you? Are you with a band?”

  “No. Never,” Sindy replied. Tessa stretched out her legs next to the table and crossed her ankles, causing Sindy’s eyes to drop to Tessa’s cut up jeans. “I love your style. Did you make those yourself?”

  “Yeah. I like to play with fashion. I messed up the seam, though. Over here.” Tessa pointed to a tiny stitch on the outer seam by her knee.

  “You mean you actually made them, as in you sewed them?” Sindy was astonished. This girl was phenomenal on all levels.

  “Yeah. My mom taught me to sew.”

  “That’s amazing. I just thought you shredded them yourself.”