Page 36 of Together in Harmony
ASA
Instead of just hitting the gym this morning, I rally the guys outside to shoot hoops. It's the perfect way to get warmed up before going into the studio for the day—normally.
Action on the b-ball court this morning though?
Intense.
I pull water from the poolside fridge and offer one to Lennox. He collapses on a lounger, his arm outstretched.
“Gimme.”
He asked for it. “Yeet!” I throw the bottle and it smacks on his chest.
“Nice,” he groans, rescuing the water from the floor and unscrewing the top. After drinking the thing in three gulps, he flops back down.
I get a water for myself and then sink into the lounger
opposite him.
“So are you going to tell me what's bothering you?” I ask him.
Lennox had played hard and aggressive. I rub my shoulder where he’d forced me to collide with the steel pole that held up the hoop.
“Kobe,” Lennox yells as he tosses up the empty bottle. It floats through the air and lands in the basket of towels.
“I’m serious Len. What was going on out there? You get blue-balled last night?”
I’d returned from LA yesterday at lunchtime. Lennox had informed me he had an evening date with Harmony. I couldn’t blame him, who wouldn’t want to date her? He’d left the ranch giving me a smug grin, and making finger in hole gestures like a twelve-year-old. He’d returned a lot earlier than I expected, so reason dictated that he did not get his end away.
Which, sure, could make him a little aggressive on the court, but this is different.
He's angry.
“Len?” I ask again.
He groans, sits up and runs a hand through his ridiculous hair.
“Ase, it’s shit. I’ll tell you and Hugo both, but not now.”
This is not my normal brother. He looks desperate, like he is truly hurting. I won’t push it.
“OK. Studio soon?”
He pulls himself to his feet. “Yeah, alright. Showering now.”
As I watch him go through the French windows, I worry. Lennox does not get affected by much, it's like he's impervious to real emotions. Happy go lucky Lennox. Me and Hugo are always jealous as to how he just breezes through life. Not any more though, apparently.
What has brought about that change?
Talking of change, that’s something I need to do. I’m ripe and I know it. Hardcore balling has helped release the stress of my week for sure. But now I smell the stink of corporate meetings oozing out of my pores. Business shit—I hate it.
But, there again. I’m just a poor farm boy from Montana, and Fender has just paid me an obscene amount of money to use their new guitar on our next tour.
Fucking suckers! I would have used it without the endorsement money, that bass is a dream machine. But I wouldn’t turn down half a mil now would I?
This ranch house we are staying in is probably worth 100 times that. $50,000,000? Yeah, probably. The ‘great’ room, as Waldo calls it, has ceilings that are forty-feet high. Glass windows fill the walls giving a panoramic view of mountains in the distance. Nine bedrooms, twelve bathrooms. Pool, b-ball court. Ten-car garage.
Stellar kitchen—a baker's dream.
