Play for Keeps (The Devil's Share #6)(3)
After all that planning and back and forth with the contractor, the compound had turned out perfectly. All the properties—each band member had their own house—complemented each other without being too similar.
Luke and Lo’s was the most modern with lots of custom concrete walls, steel work and glass. My home with Dash was more ranch style, long and open. Our back porch went the entire length of the structure.
Bryan and her sister had similar tastes; they’d both opted for Craftsman-style homes. But all the landscapes flowed through between the houses nicely, and the colors we had used looked great together.
The grounds were green and lush, and the sunsets from Dash and my backyard were phenomenal, so this was where we held our weekly Friday Family Dinner.
“Hey, babe.”
“Hey, Kitten.” Dash held out his hand and Halen and I climbed into his lap, stepping over a snoozing Dagger.
I knew Dash was a little bummed about me working so much. But I loved being the artistic director for Riffraff. I loved it. The position was everything I enjoyed doing rolled into one perfect job.
And I wanted to do it well. I wanted to be the best. I knew this highly sought-after job had just landed in my lap and I didn’t want people to think I didn’t deserve it. “The signage and logos are done. And Mason Maxwell’s album proofs are completed.”
Luke took a pull off his beer while he flipped the steaks. “That kid is a mess.”
“What? He is not. Why would you say that?” Lo sat down and kicked her feet up on our outdoor coffee table. The label had signed Mason Maxwell about two years ago and that guy had hit the ground running. He was a singer/songwriter and could play the guitar like nobody’s business. Right now, since the Devil’s Share was semi-retired from touring, he was our biggest star. So of course most of our time and energy was being spent on him.
Smith turned around, beer in one hand and meat hook thing in the other. Apparently it took two musicians to barbeque steaks. “He’s wild, and he’s reckless. He bangs a different girl every night, and he’s cocky as hell.”
Dylan started laughing so hard that she spit her water all over the deck. “Are you two kidding me right now? You guys are accusing a rock star of being a self-absorbed man-whore?” She shook her head, “Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?”
Jacks shrugged. “I get what they’re saying. He’s all party, all the time. There isn’t a serious bone in his body.”
Bryan turned and looked at her boyfriend like he’d grown a second head. “He’s not serious enough? Says the man that told Landry’s computer science teacher that if he wasn’t going to show her how to hack into the CIA database then the class wasn’t worth her time?”
Jacks didn’t answer; he just shrugged again while taking a pull off his beer bottle.
“The girls are right. Mason is pretty much a spitting image of the four of you two years ago.” I got up and started to rock and bounce Halen. It was her bedtime and she was getting fussy in my arms. “He is a really talented kid and he’s going to make us all a lot of money.”
“He’ll meet a girl.” Dylan smiled when Smith reached around and put his hand on her pregnant belly. “And he’ll settle down, he’ll settle into his life.” Her comment kind of melted my heart. All our guys had met a couple girls, hadn’t they? Smith and Dilly were expecting a baby in about two months, Dash had Halen and me, and Jacks had Landry and B. Luke? Well, Luke kind of had the hearts of all of us. Along with his fianceé’s.
“I think he’s a really great kid.” Bryan crossed the patio and sat next to Lo; those two were pretty inseparable. “Did you guys know that his real last name is Cadence? As in Johnny Cadence, his father?” I knew that, but I was guessing by the looks on the guy’s faces that they didn’t. Which meant they hadn’t bothered to do their homework or read the packet Dilly had sent them when we transferred Mason to the Austin branch.
“Yeah,” she continued, “he didn’t want to get special treatment because his dad is more famous than Brad Pitt.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Mason’s real down to earth. He was raised on a ranch in South Texas, and he worked cattle for a summer job. He donates more money than he keeps. And once a week he sends fresh flowers to his stepmom because she’s the only mother he’s ever really known, and he says he has a lot of birthdays and Mother’s Days to make up for.”
The patio was silent for a bit. Then Jacks narrowed his eyes at his girlfriend. “How do you know so much about this kid?”
She let out an irritated sigh. “He’s our artist. We should all know these things about him. The girls and I did the research, we put in the time to get to know him. To ask him questions. Wasn’t that the problem with the label before? No one knew the artists or their bands. The old management just assumed these asinine things about you guys, right? Maybe I’m na?ve, but I thought that’s what we were hoping to avoid with Riffraff.”
I handed our sleepy daughter to her dad and started the slow clap.
***
Later that night Dash and I were sitting side by side on our large gray sectional watching some Drug Inc. documentary. In my mind Dash had done every drug known to man because he was a rock star and rock stars did a lot of drugs. In reality, when it came to the Devil’s Share, there was more booze on the bus than there ever were drugs. Either way, whenever we watched shows like this I tended to ask a million questions, and it never failed to irritate him and crack me up.