Page 17 of Concerted Chaos

When the ceremony is over, my brother joins his bandmates as well as Ryland and the former Last Barons manager, Conrad, as pallbearers. They line up on the sides of the casket, solemnly take a hold of it, and lift it to their shoulders. As they pass us, I tap Brixley and ask what’s inside. I assume it’s only being used symbolically, but perhaps it contains a tribute of some sort.

“Some teeth and his left hand,” she says, far too calmly for someone delivering such horrifying information. I wish she’d lied and told me it was empty. Thinking about Jace’s remains makes me ill and even more guilty. I reduced him to nothing but teeth and a few bones. That’s what I did to my good friend. I suspect this guilt will be a part of me for the rest of my life.

After the coffin is loaded onto a hearse and we process out of the funeral home, we have to move on to the next phase. It’s not a trip to a cemetery—the actual internment will be private and secret later on, when we aren’t all being followed by photographers. When the physical memorial is ready, Devon will announce the location. The fans need somewhere to honor their idol, and the crash site is too remote to be practical.

Per Jace’s apparent request, there is no post-funeral reception. Instead, most of us go straight from the funeral services to a lawyer’s office. Personally, I think scheduling this meeting so soon is in bad taste. But it isn’t up to me.

“Why are we doing this?” Mason asks in the limo. He’s already opened up the mini-fridge and pulled out a drink. His hard-partying days are long behind him—or so he promised his wife—but I can understand wanting to take the edge off right now.

“Because Jace wanted us to.” Devon barely opens his eyes. He is slumped over, leaning against his girlfriend. He must have taken another pill.

“Jace left specific instructions,” Brixley adds. “He was quite serious about estate planning. He didn’t know it would come into play so soon, of course, but he updated his will every six months. We’re doing everything exactly as he specified.”

“I wonder what we’re all getting,” Xander says, earning himself a limo full of dirty looks.

“Don’t be such a ghoul.” That came from Powell, sitting across from Xander. I’m crushed between him and Mason, and I gratefully accept a sip from Mason’s bottle.

“What?” Xander is good at pulling off affronted with a side of innocence. “I just meant that if we’re all invited to this reading, then Jace must have left us something.”

I swear I see dollar signs in his eyes. Powell was right, he is a ghoul. Or a graverobber. Tension radiates from Powell’s leg which is pressed against mine, and I put my hand on his knee to calm him. We exchange a look, and I read his mind. He’s wondering if it would be okay if he punches Xander right now. Or, he telepathically communicates, could I maybe do it for him, so he can protect his precious music playing fingers?

Fortunately, before I grant Powell’s psychic request, we arrive at the skyscraper housing the law office. We ride the gilded elevator up to the twentieth floor and converge on a conference room with floor to ceiling windows offering a view of the city. I can see the disgusting yellow smog settling over everything. It was the smog that drove us out of LA. My family lived here for a couple of years when I was a teenager, but Powell hated the air quality—he said it damaged his vocal cords—and decided to move back to his home state of Arizona. Believe me, I had zero compunctions about following him.

Belinda, Jace’s assistant, is standing awkwardly in a corner. Even though she knows all of us, there’s a class issue at play. She looks uncomfortable in this crowd, so I go to say hello. She’s celebrity adjacent, like me, but less so, since assistants are a step down in the hierarchy from sisters.

She hugs me tightly because she’s a mom and that’s what moms do. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m doing okay,” I tell her, appreciating her empathy. She lost her job, but her immediate concern is checking on me. “How are you?”

She lets out a long sigh. “Jace invited my son to go with him. He said it might be fun, my kid’s first helicopter ride, but I said no. If I had let him go...”

I understand how she feels. Relieved, but guilty for it. I am so grateful my brother is still here, I don’t know how I could live without him. But I’ll never get over knowing that someone so beloved died in his place.

“Nobody told me why I have to be here for this,” Belinda continues. “Do you think he left me anything? I’m out of a job now, and my daughter starts college next year.” She sighs again. “You must think I’m a terrible person, going on about money at a time like this.”

“Jace loved you. I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of.” This time, I’m the one who gives her a hug. Jace was the type of person who bestowed his largesse on those he cared about, and he always considered Belinda like family. The kind of family member he wanted, not like the evil thieving ones he actually had. Besides, Devon already told me about that particular bequest.

A team of attorneys finally joins us, and we all find our seats. Despite how it’s often shown on television dramas, California doesn’t require a reading of the wills. I don’t mean that they shouldn’t be read, but all the purported heirs don’t have to gather in a room while a somber lawyer reads the document aloud and wives and mistresses faint or gasp and random unknown children inherit everything.

But even though it’s not a requirement, the head attorney for Jace’s estate explains the reason for the gathering. He says the disposition of assets will be easier if we’re all on the same page before the will is filed with the court and made into public information. Anyone can request a copy at that point, so it’s best if we all find out what’s included in advance.

Honestly, though, I’m not sure why I need to be here. If Jace bequeathed me anything, it’s probably a signed picture of himself, as a joke. He always thought things like that were funny. ‘To my beloved Cassidy, I leave an autographed photograph of myself. Please, auction it off and buy yourself a special treat, like a pack of gum or a sticker.’

I spot Mr. and Mrs. Monroe sitting near the head of the conference table, backs straight, expectant looks on their faces. They must have entered while I was distracted talking to Belinda. I bet they assume that because they were asked to come, they will be getting something special, as if Jace would have prioritized taking care of his abusive parents over all his friends—his chosen family—who he truly loved. I check on Devon, who is staring at the Monroes and finally showing an emotion: glee. This is going to be entertaining. Watching their expressions is going to be the best part of the whole reading.

Jace was clever. Oh, he was so very clever. His will starts with his parents. Rather than leaving them anything, he announces there is no inheritance for them, due to their outstanding debt. The will goes on to say that the estate will not pursue repayment of the debt, mixed in with a bunch of legalese. The money in question is now nearly ten million dollars, including the interest that accrued over the past decade. Jace spent years trying to recover it, but despite signing agreements promising a high interest rate and a repayment period, he never saw a penny returned to him.

They look confused and disappointed, and Mr. Monroe has the audacity to ask if there’s anything else. This is when I fall in love with Jace’s lawyer. He’s amazing. He eyes them condescendingly and taps his fingers on the fancy teak tabletop.

“Mr. Monroe, I assure you, that’s not all. Our client made sure to leave notarized copies of all of the debt paperwork including your promises to repay him. He has kindly included them as attachments to the will.”

Obviously, they’d never intended to make any payments, but Jace had made a big show of requesting the money every few years. The lawyer continues with the bombshell. “As required by tax law, the estate is unwillingly forced to forgive the debt due to your refusal to repay, and therefore the notice of such forgiveness will be submitted to the IRS, for taxation purposes.” That’s the ultimate blow—by forgiving their debts but making it clear that in no way is it an inheritance or gift, the amount they owe is converted into annual income. Jace is forcing them to pay taxes on a huge amount of money. That’s going to hurt.

This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Jace’s mom starts shrieking that this is ridiculous, she’s contesting the will, this is fraud, all the other nonsense greedy people say when their comeuppance is served to them with well-crafted estate planning. Jace hit them from beyond the grave, sinking their finances. There’s no way they can pay that off without selling the mansion they bought with their ill-gotten gains.

The parents end up getting escorted out by security while yelling about future lawsuits, so now it’s down to the rest of us, the ones who genuinely loved Jace. But there are a lot of us packed into the room, and it’s warm and I’m sleepy, so I just hunker down in my seat in the back, not paying much attention.

I jump when I hear the sound of a body hitting the floor. While I was zoning out, Belinda found out that she’s becoming a multi-millionaire, and she took it as well as could be expected. Devon, despite his own drug induced stupor, is there to help revive her from her faint and assure her that, yes, it is all real.

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