Page 25 of Married to the Beasts
Nearly every room has a view, and those are stunning. The grounds are beautifully landscaped, and from the back of the house, the Vegas Strip is visible in the distance. There’s a large putting green off to one side, and a huge pool that spans the length of the house with rock features and a waterfall.
When I finally stop gaping at the grand size of everything, I start to notice all the beautiful details. The staircase is especially gorgeous with its ornate black railing, and the view of the tops of sun-dappled palm trees through the windows in the towering entryway holds me transfixed for several minutes. Finally, I pull out my phone and take a few pictures just so I can move on.
It feels like I’ve walked for miles when I finally come to the kitchen, and I’ve definitely worked up a thirst. Though the room is immaculate, it looks lived-in, with a big bowl of fresh fruit on the counter, a fancy coffeemaker with a stack of mugs beside it, and a big dispenser that appears to be filled with water with slices of cucumber floating in it.
The oversized refrigerator is well and fully stocked, and there’s a deep walk-in pantry with shelves full of food.
I pour myself a glass of the water, which is incredibly refreshing. After I drink half, I top it off and carry it out with me. Believe it or not, there are still parts of the house I haven’t seen yet, including wherever the men are working.
It turns out that they’re not far away, relatively speaking, as there’s an enormous recording studio here on the ground floor. I’m reminded that Conalsaid their record label owns this house, and it looks like they’ve invested a lot into turning it into a great place for musicians to work.
I go through a solid wood door to get to the studio area, which is divided into smaller sections. The men are playing a song in one of them, and I watch them through the window. There are sound technicians in an attached booth, along with loads of impressive-looking equipment. The band stops a few times, has some discussions, and starts again. I don’t want to disturb them, but Bron eventually spots me and waves me in.
HAZEL
All three brothers acknowledge me with a nod and a brief hello, but they pick right up where they left off, and launch into a song I don’t recognize, while I stay near the door, not wanting to disturb their creative flow. They play through the song a few times, and eventually get a thumbs-up from one of the men in the booth.
“That sounded so good!” I tell them when they come over to me.
“You liked it?” Bron asks.
“I loved it. It’s for your new album?” When he nods, I say, “That’s definitely going to be a hit.”
Conal slides his arm around my waist and presses a kiss to my forehead. “How are you doing?”
“Good. I’ve been exploring.”
“Did you see the theater? There’s a yoga and meditation room, too, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“This house is unbelievable. It should come with its own navigation app,” I say, and the three of them laugh.
“Who knows? Maybe it does,” Bron says.
“I saw that the kitchen is fully stocked. Is it okay if I cook something, or does the housekeeper do that?”
“You can do whatever you want,” Conal says. “You like to cook?”
“I’m more of a baker than a cook, but I like making things. Do you want me to make something for lunch?”
“We don’t eat much when we get in the groove,” Bron says, “but I’d love some cookies or muffins.”
“Cookies and muffins just so happen to be my specialty,” I tell him. His answering smile makes my insides flutter. “Does everyone like chocolate?”
“We love it,” Rafe says, “but not while we’re recording. It affects our vocal cords.” Conal nods in agreement.
“Oh, I’m glad I asked. Okay; I’ll go see what I can whip up.”
All three men give me meaningful looks, but only Conal gives me a hug and another kiss before I leave, leading me to assume that our unconventional arrangement isn’t going to be general knowledge.
Back in the kitchen, I find all the ingredients I need to make a batch of apple-spice muffins, which are my family’s favorite. It takes a while to locate all the equipment I need, and there’s a learning curve on the high-tech oven, but in the end, the muffins turn out great.
When they’re cool enough to eat, I pile them into a basket and fill a pitcher with the cucumber water. The men had bottles of water when I saw them earlier, but maybe they’ve gone through them by now.
I slip quietly into the studio, where they’re working on a different song, and I can see they’ve gotten into the groove that Bron was talking about. They’re absorbed, their concentration is almost absolute, and they barely notice me, though they do send me distracted smiles and thanks when I set the muffins and water down.
Rather than staying to watch and risk disrupting them, I tiptoe away without saying a word.
At a loss for what to do next, I eventually decide to watch a movie. It’s beyond bizarre to have a mini theater like this to myself. It only seats twelve people, but there’s a huge screen, an excellent sound system, padded leather reclining chairs, and even a popcorn machine. The movie is fine, but not engaging enough to distract me from my surroundings for very long.
