Brothers of Rock: WILLOW SON: all 5 novels together by Casey London & James Karolyn

Author:Casey, London & James, Karolyn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-02-19T05:00:00+00:00

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The cameras were gone. The guitars were packed up. The new song was finished, at least in the sense of making the cameras and Portis happy so they’d go the hell away. Brantley had set up his drum design and it actually brought the acoustic songs to an entirely new level. So much so that the band realized the acoustic songs now had the life needed to become radio hits.

There were shows being booked, easily. The hardest part of the smaller bars was the security aspect. How to keep the band safe. How to keep those in attendance safe. Plus, dealing with local police and rules to keep people out of the streets. It almost had the same feel to it right before Willow Son was signed to their big first contract. They used to sell out bars and clubs with ease. Fans would pile in and pile out of the building and down the block. They’d do anything to hear a Willow Son song live. Each show would bring lots of police, road closures, fines for the club owners, and even fines for the band. Hell, there was one time when the entire band did a one night stint in jail because they couldn’t pay a fine.

As exciting as it all was, Ryker sat on the floor, a guitar on its face next to him. He was in the dark, he was alone. Somewhere against the walls and in his memory were the echoing sounds of the music. The silence was always haunting.

Next to him was a fresh bottle of whiskey. The cap tight, seal unbroken. Ryker didn’t want to go down that road right now. Drinking lost its luster when heavy reality hit.

Yet Ryker thought about Alyson.

He thought about her jeans. Her ass. Her smile. He thought about pinching her ass, having her slap him. Sitting across from her, staring into her eyes, he could feel a sense of loneliness to her. And that was okay. It was okay to be alone. But it was even better to be wanted, wasn’t it?

Between his legs, on the floor, was Ryker’s cell phone.

He had a call to make.

Reaching to his right, he put two fingers to the lid of the whiskey bottle and leaned it back. He licked his bottom lip. He let it go and the bottle rocked back and forth, glass scraping the concrete floor.

There were no scars on the outside of Ryker’s body. No cuts, stabs, or any other marks. But inside, there was a rage that came and went. There were scars to his heart, his soul, scars that challenged all he knew.

The right thing would have been to just let Alyson go. She won the contest. She got her prize money. She got a date. She got flowers. She got her fifteen minutes of fame. It was done now.

Ryker shut his eyes and saw himself standing at the end of the table, touching Alyson’s waist. He saw himself turning her, putting her to the table, sitting her on it.

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