Page 9 of Mayhem

Damnit.

“If it’s not the cause, a little positive PR can’t hurt, right?” I ask, hoping to make my case that I’m not the bad guy. “I really am here to help. Not turn you into something you’re not. I swear.”

“But what do you think? What’s your professional opinion?”

I try not to bristle at the way he asks the question. He’s starting to get defensive, but I need to keep being honest with him if this is going to work.

“I belong to a few Chaos Fuel fan forums under a pseudonym for research. Your loyal fans stand by you guys. Though some do complain you seem...distant lately in meet-and-greets and interviews. Not fully present.”

Brad’s stoic expression grows thoughtful as he digests this, but he doesn’t say anything. I continue gently, “I won’t pretend to grasp the pressures you guys deal with. But those ride-or-die fans just want to feel heard beyond the rock God façade, you know? Feel seen.”

I hold my breath awaiting his reaction at me quoting directly from forum messages. Brad watches me curiously. “So, you’re embedded with our fans’ chatter? Why not just ask the label for data?”

I exhale, smiling softly. “Numbers are easy to collect from socials. Nuance is harder. I prefer to go to the source if I can.”

Something about this transparency seems to resonate. Brad's expression shifts subtly from wary to intrigue. "Guess you're more than just a suit, Handler Tess..."

I flush, strangely pleased by his acknowledgment I’ve done my homework here. It's a small win, but my heartbeat quickens triumphantly all the same.

He studies me closer, and I do my best to keep my own guard down. Show him that I’m being honest with him. I think it works because something manifests in his dark gray eyes; an acceptance of some kind that I pray means he won’t fight this like I know he’s wanted to all along.

“Okay,” he says with a slow nod as he shoves his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. His long hair sways with the movement. My fingers start to itch to want to reach out and see what it feels like, the shiny strands are tempting. “So long as you’re not looking to change anything. Maybe show different sides of us or something, but don’t try to make us into something we’re not.”

I shake my head determinedly. “Absolutely. I would never try to change you guys. That’s not what I do at all. You have my word on that.”

His features smooth with relief and his shoulders relax a little. It’s as if I’ve put out a fire, or eased his mind somehow, and it alleviates something inside of me too. We understand each other now, or at least, he understands me. I still have to figure out the enigma that is Brad Chambers.

There are layers to him that contradict each other so diametrically, that it’s hard to compute. Like how loving and affectionate he is with his daughter, versus how aloof and detached he appears in the press. Like I told him, even with fans he stands out as separate, like he’s holding his true self hidden away.

He needs to let the real Brad Chambers out for all to see. I’m starting to see it. And I like it.

I like it a lot.

Maybe too much.

7

DOWN

BRAD

"Well, I say we just grab that one hippie dude with the van painted like the Mystery Machine as our bassist and call it a day," Emmett proclaims, twirling a drumstick irreverently.

A round of groans from the rest of us echoes as we lounge about debriefing on the day’s marathon of bassist auditions. My fingers knead my forehead vainly hoping to massage away the tension headache brewing there all afternoon.

"What? Dude was decent enough and brings that carefree vibe, ya know?" Emmett continues, undeterred. I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not. I really hope he’s not being serious.

Stefan flicks a bottle cap at Emmett's head in reply. "Cause Scooby-Doo truly captures the chaotic essence of our sound."

Their bickering fades to background noise as I notice Tess camping beside Charlie's craft corner. She's smiling ear-to-ear at some critter taking shape under my daughter's guidance. I can't lie, my hang-ups over Tess's involvement are easing a little seeing how effortlessly she bonds with Charlie.

This bassist search pressure feels less crushing watching their giggling exchange. Tess playfully dots a glue-dripping rhinestone nose on Charlie's creature. Seeing her laugh it up freely with Charlie kicks my protectiveness into overdrive. I rarely let random women buddy up to my girl. Not after my past girlfriends forced me to break things off, devastating Charlie. She grows attached quickly. Too quickly. Watching tears stain my little girl’s pillow as the harsh reality of it all dawned on her still shreds my heart. I swore not to blink at another dazzling smile until I was sure about the longevity of the relationship. And that’s hard to come by in this fucking industry. Especially when all everyone wants is a piece of me. A piece of the limelight.

Their craft corner laughter keeps pulling my gaze back. Tess admires some fluffy feathered thing Charlie made, both grinning ear to ear. My pulse revs up. Charlie latches on quickly to positive feedback. She'll be bummed when Tess likely moves on. Still, I can't deny that seeing my baby girl light up with simple joy always tugs at my heart too.

"Check out those incredible lashes, sparkling diva style! No mythical creature could out-dazzle this." Tess winks conspiratorially, adding more glitter. Charlie absolutely beams under the spotlight of her attention.

Noticing my reluctant staring, Tess glances up. The openness shining from her sucker punches my knee-jerk misgivings. For just a second, stripped from image or agenda, she's purely present with my daughter. And it floods over me like a tidal wave.

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