Redemption (Tattoos & Tears - Brody Book 1) Page 11

  He’s even hotter than the last time I saw him, which feels like a lifetime ago, when in reality, it was only a few days ago. He’s the stereotypical bad boy rocker, he’s wearing that leather jacket, a black vest, a black and white skull scarf, dark blue jeans, and black, studded biker boots.

  “Kitten,” he says with an amused tone to his voice.

  The moment my eyes lock with his, I know there’s no turning back. Welcome to the madness of Rancid Vengeance, Storm.

  After an hour speaking to Peyton, I find out that she is thirty-one years old and she’s worked for the infamous celebrity tattoo artist, Seb Henry since she was eighteen. I have yet to be tattooed by the legend himself, which is definitely on my bucket list! She met Sam, when she tattooed him at Saint Sinner Ink, and they have two kids, Freddie, and Zachary. Her mum used to be a famous pin-up model in the seventies and her dad is a renowned and extremely talented, fashion photographer. Her brother, Dexter is a police officer and her sister, Eden owns a beauty salon, just outside Brighton. She doesn’t go into detail, but from what I know from the gossip sites, she was kidnapped by the band’s former manager, John Dalton and for a year, everyone thought she was dead. As our conversation continues, I find myself feeling strangely comfortable around her, which is extremely rare. I’m never this at ease around someone I hardly know, it’s just the way I am, but with her, it’s totally different and it’s refreshing. She’s easy to talk to and I can see us becoming fast friends.

  ***

  We’ve been on the bus for a couple of hours and the boys have gone into the venue to get ready for their upcoming show, leaving Peyton and me on the bus to bond some more. Zachary, Freddie and Jax’s daughter Thea, have gone with the bands’ nanny, Marnie, Peyton’s brother’s new girlfriend, who I’ve yet to meet. We are getting ready for the show and we are drinking white wine. As she is applying her make-up in the mirror, she catches my eye.

  “One thing you should know about Brody, is that romance isn’t in his repertoire, it’s not even in his vocabulary. He thinks buying condoms, ribbed for her pleasure is the height of romance!”

  We both giggle like a pair of school girls.

  “How did you come to know Brody; I mean really know him. He won’t let me through those impenetrable, steel walls. He keeps them firmly in place,” I ask curiously, hoping she will give me some sort of insight into the enigma, that is Brody Hart.

  She smiles thoughtfully.

  “It wasn’t easy, I hated him at first…no, hate is a strong word-let’s just say I intensely disliked him! Him and Sam, weren’t good for each other, they were a total recipe for disaster when we first met. The first time I came on tour with the boys, on my last night before I was due to go home, I got into a little bit of trouble with one of Sam’s exes!”

  She pulls a face and we both laugh.

  “I punched her in the face and stormed out of a club. I was bleeding quite badly, so Brody took me back to the bus, cleaned me up, and we played a game of truth or dare. We got absolutely fucking wasted. We shared a lot of things that night, and before you ask, nothing like that happened, it was just two people getting to know each other and bonding. I’ve never told anyone what we talked about that night, not even Sam. It’s safe to say, I consider Brody one of my closest friends, he’s a tough nut to crack, but the end result is worth it. Once you’re in his inner circle, he’ll do anything for you. He’s godfather to our son Freddie, and they worship each other. He might have his faults, don’t we all, but he’s such an amazing guy, I’m proud to call him my best friend.”

  She regards me intently and I’m speechless at her honesty. It is clear the way she speaks about Brody, that I’ve barely touched the surface at getting to know the real him.

  “Just don’t give up on him, Raleigh, he’s had so much of that in his life already. He doesn’t love easily, but he’s worth every second and more.”

  I cock my head to the side and twirl my ring anxiously around my finger.

  “How did you become so close?”

  She laughs, as she takes a long sip of her wine.

  “I think it was because I was the first woman he had actually become friends with, without wanting to fuck me. His words, not mine!”

  We both laugh and I take a sip of my wine, enjoying our chat.

  “He’s so...complicated, I’ve caught glimpses of who he is around you and the boys today. I can’t help thinking, why he isn’t like that with me.”

  She sighs and takes a long gulp of wine before continuing to speak. I have a feeling that it’s the wine making her a little loose lipped.

  “Between you and me, Brody didn’t have the best start in life. It’s his story to tell, but the one woman who was supposed to love him and care for him, just abandoned him and left him to care for himself. He has issues with women in general. It’s not you, babe, I really wouldn’t take it personally.”

  She smiles warmly and turns around to face me. She is wearing an oversized, off the shoulder customised Rancid Vengeance t-shirt, with spiked studs, safety pins and rips in it, which looks like a dress on her, knee high black Converse and her colourful hair styled into loose tousled waves. She looks amazing.

  “How do I look, hon?”

  I take her in and whistle.

  “You lookin’ mighty fine, girl!”

  I put on a silly, fake Southern American accent and we both laugh. I feel a lot more relaxed than I did earlier and I don’t know if it’s the wine or just her company. She’s magnetic and so easy to talk to.

  “Come on, let’s go and see what our boys are made of. You’ll love it, I promise.”

  She links her arm through mine, we head off the bus and into the venue.

  ***

  “London, how the fuck are we all doing tonight?” Sam asks, the crowd lapping up his attention.

  The atmosphere is electric, and I can feel their energy surging through the large, sold out venue. We are stood at the side of the stage, with a clear view of all four members of the band, including Brody, who is looking delicious up there, with his guitar casually slung over his broad, tattooed shoulders. He has a black bandana around his head and his tight black vest hugs his sculpted, well-defined muscles.

  “It’s so good to be home again, London! You’re all looking fucking beautiful out there.”

  Sam moves to the front of the stage and sits down on the edge, with his long legs, dangling in front of him, with a look of complete awe on his face, as if he can’t believe all these people are here to see him and his band.

  “Now, tonight for the first time in history of Rancid Vengeance, we’re going to change it up a little,” Sam says huskily, and the crowd goes crazy.

  I look to Peyton questioningly and nudge her with my elbow.

  “Do you know what’s going on?”

  She pinches her two fingers together and makes a zipping motion across her mouth. I narrow my eyes at her and pout. She smiles knowingly, as Sam begins to speak again.

  “We’re going to perform a brand-new song from our upcoming album called ‘I Will Bleed for You’, we hope you guys like it.”

  The crowds’ screams seem to get so loud, it’s almost deafening, as Sam says those words and the room almost feels like it is vibrating.

  He turns to Brody and shuffles nervously forward. Sam hands him the microphone with a wink and an encouraging pat on the back. Sam sprints to the centre of the stage, where a black, baby grand piano, with the Rancid Vengeance logo emblazoned on the lid, emerges from a rising platform. Sam takes a seat behind it and the soft, classical strains of the song begin. Sam plays the piano, his fingers gliding over the keys with effortless grace, as if he were born to do it. The audience, including me, all wait with bated breath, as Jax joins in with the accompanying guitar riff. Brody leans into the microphone, takes a deep steadying breath, softly strums his guitar, and begins to sing. I’ve never heard him sing before and it’s amazing. His voice reminds me of Passenger, but with a tone that is distinctly unique, and it suits him
. It’s literally the opposite of Sam’s voice and it’s a welcome contrast.

  “I will bleed for you, I will steal the stars from the sky, don’t ever ask me why, but I will bleed for you. As the sun burns through the evening shadows, eternal sunlight shines through, I will bleed for you.”

  I watch him awestruck, his voice is so different from Sam’s signature gruff tone and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, as his voice echoes through the arena. The crowd are enraptured by him and as the song continues, I see Brody close his eyes and completely lose himself in the lyrics.

  “I will bleed for you, I will steal the stars from the sky, don’t ever ask me why, but I will bleed for you. The sun is gone, with all that is said and done, I will bleed for you.”

  Jax moves fluidly across the stage and strums out an impressive guitar solo, as Lucas pounds an energetic drumbeat, and Sam plays a haunting melody on the piano, his fingers flying over the keys with elegance and precision. Brody opens his eyes and catches my gaze, as he looks at me, it feels like he can see into my soul. The smile he gives me is genuine and I find myself returning it. As the closing strains of the song fill the arena, the crowd erupts into a thunderous applause, the euphoria is palpable. Peyton gives me an encouraging side wink, the grin I give her in return is sincere and genuine. She nudges me and cocks her head to the side, as she leans in to whisper in my ear.

  “Go get your man!”

  She winks and make my way through the crowd, to the side of the stage. Cole nods curtly and lets me pass, as I head backstage to wait for him.

  Brody

  After the show, I’m fucking buzzed and I feel the adrenaline cursing through my veins. This is better than any chemical fucking high I’ve ever felt! As I step onto the bus, she’s sitting there, looking like a fucking goddess and I can’t take my fucking greedy eyes off her. She’s stunning. I take a seat next to her and she pushes an open bottle of beer towards me.

  “Thanks kitten.”

  I smile, and we sit there drinking in a comfortable silence. A few minutes passes and she turns to me, regarding me intently.

  "Who taught you to play guitar?" she asks curiously and her out of the blue question takes me aback.

  "My mum," I answer honestly and thoughtfully as I think back to some of the better memories of my mum, Imogen Hart.

  “My mum gave birth to me when she was twenty, she was a scared, naïve kid, who was all alone. I never knew my grandparents, according to her, they never approved of her relationship with my dad, so she left home right after she found out she was pregnant with me. She was on the street for a while and that’s when she got hooked on the drugs. She was an immature; pregnant junkie, who sold her body for her next fix and I’ll never fucking forgive her for that. I missed out on my childhood because the drugs meant more to her than I did. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, I was born with drugs in my system and experienced painful withdrawal, up until I was three months old.

  I never knew my dad, she always said he was going to come back for us one day and we’d live happily ever after. Turns out she was full of shit. She died on her thirtieth birthday and the moment I found her, still fucking haunts me.

  There were a few rare occasions that she wasn't wasted or high and I looked forward to those moments, so fucking much. I was six or seven, when she started teaching me, she had this old acoustic Fender guitar, it was battered to fuck, but it didn't matter. She taught me how to play and I took to it straight away. She said I was a natural, I'll never forget the look of pride in her eyes, when I played for the first time. It was only a simple, random little tune, but it was worth it, for her to look at me like that."

  I smile softly at Raleigh, as I recall the memory, with such crystal-clear clarity. The way my mum’s silver eyes would glisten like diamonds when she was happy. Those moments were so rare when I was growing up, that I sometimes question if they ever really happened at all.

  "I was in the school talent show, playing guitar with Sam, Jack and Luke, she promised on my life that she'd be there, but she never showed up.”

  I sigh at the memory and the look in Raleigh’s eyes, breaks my heart. This is exactly why you shouldn’t be anywhere near her, Hart. I shake that thought away, as I continue.

  “I wasn't angry, I was upset and so fucking disappointed. I was seven years old, the first time it happened, and I just remember being so embarrassed. Everyone else’s parents were there supporting them, with such pride in their eyes and I step out onto the stage for our performance. I fucking looked for her and my heart broke when I didn’t see her. I got home, and she was strung out on the sofa, with a strap attached to her arm and one of her many boyfriends between her legs.”

  Raleigh gasps as I say those words and I’m transported back to when we were in rehab.

  11

  Brody

  Nine Months Ago

  Ever since our first encounter a few short days ago, I haven’t been able to get the lilac haired Goddess, who I now know as Raleigh, out of my mind. Fuck me, even her name sounds beautiful. She’s been leaving notes under my door and gifts outside, to let me know I’m not far from her thoughts either. She left a book this morning “Women are From Venus & Men are From Mars”. A neon pink post-it note stuck to the front of the book which read:

  “I’d much prefer Uranus… X”

  That put a permanent smile on my face, for the rest of the day. I never really put much thought into trying to meet someone. We were never really in one place long enough, especially when we’re on tour. But since Sam met Peyton and Jax met Ruby, it’s not really outside the realm of possibility anymore.

  When I get to my group therapy session, she’s sat down, with those sexy as fuck black-rimmed glasses, which make her look like a naughty secretary. The room is full, and they’re all sat in a large circle, the only spare seat is opposite her. I sit down, and I can’t seem to take my eyes off her. The therapist, with a voice that would put a glass eye to sleep, starts to speak.

  “Welcome back, everyone, who would like to start this week?”

  The room falls silent, everyone avoids direct eye contact, as she moves round the circle.

  “No-one? Raleigh, how about you?” she suggests, and Raleigh looks up, catching my gaze.

  “Yeah, sure, why not?” she mutters quickly as she twirls her ring around her finger.

  “Don’t be nervous, we’re all friends here, there’s no judgement. Do you want to start by telling the group why you’re here and what prompted you to seek therapy?” the therapist says with all the enthusiasm of a wet lettuce leaf.

  Raleigh clears her throat and looks to me for encouragement. I throw her a cheeky wink and she smiles softly, as she begins to speak.

  “I’m Raleigh and I’m an addict. I’m a self-harmer and I’m addicted to prescription drugs.”

  Everyone in the room, gives her nods of empathy and they all clap softly. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and clears her throat.

  “I started self-harming when I just turned eighteen years old, purely for the release it bought. I started just after my grandma died, she was my biggest supporter. My grandma used most of her life savings to put me through drama school, despite my parents’ protests. They’ve never approved of my career choices, My younger brother, Jagger, he’s fifteen and he’s the golden boy. He can do no wrong in their eyes, he’s the favourite and I’m just a disappointment. I always have been. I left home after my grandma died and I moved to the U.K to go to theatre school. I learned more in that time, than I’d ever learned back in Australia. I continued to self-harm, even then, but I learned to hide it. I always wore long sleeves, even in the summer months. It was my way of escaping reality even if it was just for a little while.”

  Listening to her describe what she went through makes my heart hurt for her. She’s so fragile and vulnerable in this moment, the admiration I feel for her increases with every word she speaks. I can relate to her with having parents who didn’t give a fuck about yo
u, who didn’t love you enough to let you be you. I look up and her watery gaze catches mine.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t fucking do this.”

  My eyes follow her, as she gets up and dashes from the room in floods of tears.

  “Right, does someone else want to share?” the therapist asks uninterested, as if Raleigh running from the room didn’t happen.

  I get up from my seat, scraping the chair noisily across the floor.

  “Where are you going, Brody?”

  I cock my eyebrow.

  “If you hadn’t noticed, one of your patients just ran out of the room. I’m going after her, not that I need your fucking permission,” I snap with conviction and sprint out of the room with purpose.

  I head to her room and tap softly on the door. When she doesn’t open it, I try the door handle and walk in.