Page 18 of Mason Wilder
Even after five days Mason couldn’t stop rehashing the confrontation he had with Tessa after the show in Cincinnati. He was a guy who had always protected her as fiercely as her brother, and he had hurt her with the blunt truth. That was the biggest problem. He could have let her down easier or been more empathetic.It took an infinite amount of courage to confess that you loved someone who wasn’t expecting it and to put your heart on the line like that. Damn, he had so much respect for her.
Even though she had been crushed, when she saw him next, at dinner, she pretended nothing was wrong. And he still didn’t know what to make of the incident with the cake. He ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath. This was one complicated situation.
He didn’t know what would happen once they saw one another now that almost a week had past, but he was about to find out. He pulled into the driveway of the Blade-Garcia mansion, ready to rehearse the new song in the studio, and hoped that music would be the surefire way to ensure normalcy in their lives.
Angel answered the door with a surprised smile. “You have your own key. You don’t have to ring the doorbell.”
“I didn’t want to barge in since Lucas doesn’t live here anymore.” Truth being, he erred on the side of caution when it came to Angel, Tommy and Jessi. With everything that was going on, he couldn’t deal with walking in on a ménage à trois. He followed Angel to the kitchen where he found Jessi sitting on Tommy’s knee at the huge center island. She didn’t bother to move into the next seat, comfortable with their open display of affection.
“Hi, Mase.” Her eyes took on a welcoming hue. “Are you here to use the studio?”
“Yeah. We’re gonna work on the new song Tessa wrote on the way home from the tour.”
“My kids are coming over?” Tommy asked. “Geeze. The parents are always the last to know.”
Jessi smiled and elbowed him. “They don’t need to call before they come over.”
Tommy rubbed his chest, as if Jessi’s tiny elbow could make a dent in his broad chest. “You don’t have to heart punch me.”
“You poor baby.” She coddled him by cupping his face with one hand and rubbing his chest with the other, which garnered a warm loving smile from Tommy, and probably the reason for his overly dramatic reaction.
Angel stood behind their chair. “Pardon the lack of manners from my spouses. Would you like breakfast, Mason? I could whip up an omelet or some huevos rancheros.”
“Nah, man. Thanks. I’m cool. I’ll help myself to some coffee though.” He took a mug from the cabinet and filled his cup. “I’m gonna head downstairs and get a jump on it. Let Lucas and Tessa know I’m ready when they get here.”
As he descended the stairs to the studio, he paused to take in the familiar surroundings and warmth filled his chest. He sat behind his Tama kit, and it felt like home. He couldn’t count the number of hours or the amount of time he’d spent sitting in this exact spot. After taking a gulp of coffee, he placed his cup on the floor behind him and took a pair of sticks from the stick bag. He fingered the dents, remembering the last time he’d played before the tour started. The chrome hardware of his toms picked up the light and winked at him. The cymbals danced with a gentle sway as he touched them lightly. “I may disappear for months at a time,” he said aloud, “but, I’ll never leave you.”
He played a quick 2/4 beat and a smile bloomed on his face. Nothing fulfilled him more than hitting the drums, and this kit in particular was his baby. They were reunited after a long hiatus and he lovingly placed his hand on the snare. “Daddy’s home,” he whispered. As he continued to play, a feeling of unification filled him. He suddenly stilled, one stick in the air, one touching his side tom, as a memory passed behind his eyes. He had a vision of himself sitting in this exact spot when he was about 22. He had just come home from a long stint on the road with an internationally-acclaimed rock band. The tour had been eight months, the longest he’d been away from home. He had missed his family. It had been hard to be away from Lucas and Tessa, and from Prodigy, for such a long period of time. He had come to the studio to play on his favorite kit and got lost in the connection he shared with the instrument. He had looked up and Tessa was standing at the bottom of the steps, leaning against the newel post.She had been quietly watching him with a smile and a faraway look in her eyes. She must have been 15 or 16 back then. He remembered the way her gaze made him feel, as if he was her hero. At the time, he had thought it was because they’d never been apart for so long before and because of the close friendship they shared. Now he realized it was because she was in love with him.
He blinked, sure he was hallucinating. Tessa was standing in the same spot right now, arms folded across her chest leaning against the newel post. She wore a dreamy smile on her face, almost exactly as she had done back then.
“I could watch you play for hours.” She slowly strolled toward him. “There’s something about watching you play that always hypnotizes me.”
Except, he wasn’t playing. He had been drifting off, thinking about a moment they shared almost seven years ago. Could she have been recalling a similar memory?
“I tweaked the lyrics a little on the song and came up with a title.Dirty LittleSecrets.”
He knew the song was about her hidden feelings for him, and he forced himself not to react or look down at the floor. He nodded. “It’s a great song. You really outdid yourself with this one, Tessa.”
She tilted her head to the side with modesty. “I just write what comes to me. You know how it is. We have no control over the music that fills our soul. It just pours out.”
Voices from the staircase grew louder, pulling their attention to Lucas and Sindy who stepped into the studio. Lucas already had his Les Paul on his shoulder. Sometimes Mason thought that thing was glued to Lucas’ chest. There were over a dozen guitars housed in the guitar room at the back of the studio that Lucas could choose from, but he chose to rehearse with the beloved instrument in his hands that had been passed down from his father.
Sindy picked a Gibson from the rack and handed Tessa her Quantum Modulus bass. “I can’t wait to hear how this song sounds through the house amps. I haven’t been this excited about a song in a long time.”
Tessa’s gaze never left Mason as she tightened a key on the head of her bass. “Me either. I’m gonna rock this shit. Hard.”
A small chill ran down Mason’s back at the inflection in her voice. Or maybe he was over-analyzing it. He honestly didn’t know what the hell to think at this point. There was a tornado whirling around in his head, and it was constantly picking up speed. He wasn’t in the habit of analyzing people’s words and actions. He was too chill to try to decipher hidden meanings and decode innuendo. He decided to let go of the crazy thoughts needling at his brain and concentrate on the song.
They had only played it on the bus a few times on the way home from Cincinnati, and, at that time, he had only used his electronic drum pad. He’d perfected the beat on the Pearl drum kit in his apartment only yesterday. With everyone in position, Mason counted off four beats on his sticks and slammed them down on the drums. Tessa followed his rhythm perfectly, even with the slight variations she hadn’t heard before. Her thick bassline beefed up the beat. Lucas and Sindy had obviously rehearsed together as well andadded a few extra chords that elevated the melody to a higher level. They had all worked on the song individually, and it still came together harmoniously.
By the time the second chorus rolled around, Mason was lost in his head. Nothing mattered except the boom that kept his heart beating. He dazed out, in a fog of hard beats and shattered splashes from his cymbals. The room felt like it was spinning, but he was stuck in one spot. The music became a cyclone around him, and he felt as if he was at the center of it, fueling its momentum. Bands of muscle pulled across his biceps and shoulders with each heavy strike, and his calves burned from hitting the double bass.
Tessa stood in front of him, breaking his trance and demanding attention. Instead of singing into the mirror that covered the wall facing them as she usually did, she was in front of the small drum riser. Then she surprised him by leaping onto it, as quick as a cat. She crouched down, mic to her lips, and growled out lyrics with a soul shaking hiss. Passion infused every word. It was seductive, loud and abrasive. It was rock and roll. When he hit his left cymbal, Tessa took the eight-thousand-dollar mic and smashed it repeatedly into the right cymbal with rebellion and attitude. Then she jumped down and returned to the front of the room.
He was shocked into a wide eyed incredulous smile that was cemented onto his lips. He’d never seen her so in your face. He rolled his sticks across his toms and kicked his bass with a surge of adrenaline. As he twirled his drumstick between his fingers, Tessa spun around and pointed at him as she delivered a lyric, and he did something he hadn’t done since he was six years old. He dropped a drumstick.
“Man, that was an incredible rehearsal,” Mason told Lucas as they stood by the enormous guitar-shaped pool behind the Blade-Garcia mansion.
