A Bleu Streak Summer (The Bleu Series Book 3) (9 page)

“Vee, did you wash your hands since the interview?” Max asked, his fingers edging the tube out of his pocket.

She gave him a confused look before muttering, “No.” She bolstered more attitude in the one little word than was necessary, in Max’s opinion.

“Not good.” His concerning voice and slow shake of his head belied the mischievous twinkle in his brown eyes. “Just found out a few of our assistants have suddenly come down with a nasty stomach bug.”

Vee’s attitude withered, her eyes widening. A well-known fact about Vee Declan was that she was an overly dramatic germaphobe. “How bad is it?”

“Both ends kind of
bad
.” Max widened his eyes to match hers. “Here, I’ve got some hand sanitizer.”

The words barely finished escaping his mouth as her hand reached out to swipe the little tube, squirting half of the contents out into her shaky palm before handing it back to him.

“It’s quite thick,” she mumbled while trying to work the substance along the front and back of her hands.

“Yeah. Some new formula.” His lip twitched with the lie, but Max was able to tamp down the grin. He nodded his head to the security guard and began walking away.

“My… my hands are stuck together! Maxim King!”

He heard her hissy fit but pretended otherwise. Trace met up with him in the corridor.

“What’s Vee yelling about now?” Trace glared over Max’s shoulder where she held her entwined hands up before disappearing from their view.

“Vee’s just being Vee.” Max dismissed that while pulling the tube back out of his pocket. “Say, Trace, did you know hand sanitizer looks a lot like that clear craft glue Grace and Phoebe were using this morning?”

“No…” Trace eyed the tube.

“Want some?” Max offered it over.

“Sure.” Trace held his palm up to accept a generous squirt, totally clueless to Max’s glue statement. “It’s sticky.”

“You make my job too easy, Space Cadet.” With a deep laugh, feeling more like himself, Max hurried off before Trace could get his glue-coated hands around his pranking neck.

•♫•♫•♫
•

The electric energy of the concert ricocheted around the dark corridors of backstage as people finally began heading out. The show went off in blazing success, but the bandmates kept a close eye on their lead guitarist. Everyone reaches a limit, and it was evident that he was nearing his.

The meet-and-greet with select fans finally wrapped around midnight. Max flexed his aching fingers as he headed out of the green room with Mave hot on his heels. His brother’s hand clamped down on his shoulder before Max could make a clean break for it.

“Dude, I think it’s time we paid dear ole Dad a visit.” Mave regarded him with tense, brown eyes—identical to his own.

“I ain’t got a dad.”

“Maybe so, and now you ain’t got a fiancée anymore either. What gives with that? The public is catching on.” Mave crossed his heavily tattooed arms.

Before Max could mutter something to pacify his twin, Izzy came shuffling over with her face as red as…

“Hey, red hot chili pepper,” Max teased, intensifying the hue of her flushed cheeks.

Mave looked over and reached for his shaken wife. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyes darted between the twins. “Umm… I just… I just walked in on Will—”

Max barked in laughter. “You see our boy naked?”

Both Izzy and Mave shot him a warning scowl. He held his hands up in defense.

“No!” she whispered harshly while looking around. “He’s in Dillon’s dressing room, making out with Stella.”

“Leona’s assistant?” Max asked.

“Yes…” Izzy cleared her throat, waiting for a few stragglers to make it out the back exit. “They didn’t see me, so I’m pretty sure they’re still going at it.”

Both twins grinned wickedly at each other as Mave reached for Izzy’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go bust up Casanova’s party.”

Sure enough, they found Will kissing the young woman passionately while she sat on top of the counter. His hands were grasping Stella’s thin shoulders, close to pinning her against the mirror.

“Dude, you’re doing it all wrong,” Mave said loudly, making Will jump back. The eighteen-year-old’s face was as flushed as Izzy’s, but obviously for another reason entirely.

Stella wasted no time hopping down and hiding behind Will’s broad back.

“Dude,” was all he could get his husky voice to produce.

“Sweetheart, you never let some idiot manhandle you like that.” Mave addressed her even though she was completely hidden from his view behind the giant teenage idiot. He quirked an eyebrow at said giant. “You gotta do better than that. You don’t grip a girl like you’re holding her prisoner.”

Max wisely kept mute, knowing his name and eloquence did not go together whatsoever. He also knew he failed the subject on how to treat a lady. He merely offered an occasional nod in agreement with his brother and kept his mouth firmly shut.

“Watch and learn, punk,” Mave said to Will as he offered his hand to Izzy, allowing her the choice to agree or not. When she placed her tiny palm into his, he gently pulled her close. “Hold her hand and take a moment to appreciate she trusts you enough to let you hold it.” His eyes remained bonded to Izzy’s as he spoke his lesson to Will. He then worked his other hand through her pale hair until it was cradling the back of her head while sliding their entwined fingers to her waste. Nothing was urgent or demanding with his touch. “You hold her in your arms as though the dream of this angel is too fragile and you absolutely fear her love will shatter.” Mave paused to look over at Will. “’Cause, dude, she’s
perfect
and you just can’t chance losing this gift.” Reverence laced each of his words.

Izzy squirmed slightly in his arms, uncomfortable from the attention. “Maverick,” she murmured, meaning his name as a warning yet it came out more of a soft moan.

Mave leaned down until his lips were so close to his wife’s that her heated breath warmed his skin, but he paused to allow her the respect of closing the small space between their lips. When she did, he led the kiss in the most delicate display of love Max had ever witnessed. It truly looked as though the drummer was terrified their bond would shatter if he was too aggressive. The moment was much more intimate than the full-blown make-out session they had interrupted.

When Mave stepped back, Izzy’s face was back to scarlet. He winked at her before asking, “Do you mind escorting Stella out to the limo?”

“Okay.” Her brown eyes held a dazed effect.

“Thanks, Doll. We’ll be along shortly.” He leaned down and brushed a parting kiss to her rosy lips.

Stella stepped around Will and followed Izzy out while keeping her gaze locked on the floor, her own cheeks slightly pink.

As soon as they were gone, Max turned his attention back to Will. “Man, you know better than that.”

Will’s arms shot up. “What’s wrong with kissing a girl?”

“Nothing if you do it right,” Mave shot back.

“We were just keyed up from the concert…” The young guy threaded his fingers through the top of his hair.

“I totally get ya about the performance high. So much adrenaline rushing through you it demands to be released, but you don’t go taking it out on a girl like that,” Mave continued his lecture as he propped up on the arm of the couch.

“Well, it sure felt good.”

“To who?” Max added, eyeing the flustered kid with skepticism.

“Me.” Will offered a cocky smirk with both twins responding with stern frowns.

“And that’s where you’re wrong again, and being disrespectful. You always pay attention to your lady’s needs, not your own. You are to make her feel special and cherished, not used like you just did to Stella.”

“If you’re old man had seen that, he would have knocked you upside the head,” Max muttered.

Mave moved the conversation bluntly to the heart of the matter to set the hormone-crazed guy straight. “Best advice is to keep it in your pants until you make a commitment.” Mave held his hand up to emphasize his point with the silver wedding band adorning his finger.

“That’s why you married Izzy not even two months after y’all met,” Will accused, crossing his arms.

“No, you idiot. God granted me a gift that I wasn’t even worthy to have. No way was I not accepting it as fast as I could.”

Max stepped over to Will and rested his hand on his young buddy’s shoulder. “Seriously, hold on to that gift until you’re married. Don’t waste it on stupid hormones.”

Will glanced between the brothers. “Did you guys waste it?”

The twins exchanged a look. Max nodded his head before answering. “Some of us, but your mom and dad didn’t waste it. They waited to share that gift until they were married. Those two are the example you need to follow. The love they have is epic, and totally what God intended it to be.”

Mave finally smiled and eased the conversation into concluding on a lighter note. “But, dude, don’t forget there’s nothing wrong with flirting and showing a chick you’re interested. Just keep in mind to never disrespect her.”

“Alright. I got ya.” Will rushed out the door to get away from the uncomfortable lecture, unaware of the presence in the dark hall.

The twins left out after him, but halted when they detected the hallway wasn’t empty. They were used to keeping aware of their surroundings, another lesson Will needed to be schooled on.

“You coulda went in there and helped us set your kid straight,” Max grumbled.

Dillon pushed off the wall and handed both guys a greasy bag filled with burgers and fries. The savory scent of their late-night snack filled the space, making them groan. Both were shoveling fat fries into their mouths before Dillon could speak.

“Sounded like the two of you had it under control.”

Max looked up sheepishly, cheeks poking out from the huge bite of burger he’d just taken. “I’m not sure if we are the best choice for the birds-and-bees kinda talks,” he muffled out between chews.

“You forget too quickly how I screwed up my first kiss with Jewels. I stole it, remember?” Dillon confessed. He and Mave shared a chuckle as they made their exit, but Max was stone-cold serious.

With the day he had just endured—or week or month or year for that matter—he knew he was nowhere close to being the man God intended him to be. The harsh evidence nudged him. An unforgiving and sometimes spiteful heart. Less than honest lips. Selfishly withdrawing from loved ones. Many twisted mistakes had the greasy food churning in his gut by the time they joined the others in the back of the limo.

Handing Mave his half-eaten bag of food, Max closed his eyes and could only see the blaring failure of not being the Godly man he was supposed to be to Mona. She was a gift and he did nothing but take it for granted, misusing her trust along the way, and then disposing her love like it was nothing more than garbage.

The lump in his throat increased as the vice grip of shame clamped against him as he realized he was no better than his estranged father. Treating people with blatant disregard and then abandoning them when his own demons became too much to bear.

Everyone continued the celebration well into the night. Except for Max. He disappeared into his room soon after they returned to the beach house. The night was long with sleep evading the guilt-stricken guitarist. He’d begun to think life was too long in general.

SIX

“Ride”

-twenty one pilots

One thing is for certain—life can be one tricky son-of-a-gun. It can cause even the wisest individual a false sense of comfort, eluding one into thinking everything is under control.

Maybe not completely under control, but manageable.

And then, within a blink, a circumstance can snatch the rug right out from under the poor idiot’s feet. Oh, but it most certainly can get worse if that individual doesn’t open those blinded eyes fast enough. Life can go down a long, long, path of self-doubt, self-pity, and self-destruction.

Maxim King was being taken for such a ride by his own circumstances, but seemed to be in no hurry of slamming on the brakes. He sat on the edge of his bed in a familiar room that had become unfamiliar overnight. Gone were the deep-blue walls that had always reminded him of his sapphire Fender. Now an odd hue of mint-green engulfed him, reminiscent of the toothpaste he favored.

“Ain’t feeling it on the walls though,” Max muttered to himself, while inspecting the renovated space. It had become too light and airy for his ever-present dark mood as of late.

Leona used sea life as the design inspiration for the beach house. Each room was dressed hues of blues and greens and corals with accents of soft greys.

“You ready?” Mave interrupted.

“Might as well be.” With a sigh of resignation, Max stood while pulling on the ball cap he had clutched in his hand and headed out.

“No need in worrying. All’s gonna be fine.” Mave slapped him on the back forcefully as they eased into the back of the SUV.

Max wanted to tell Mave it was easy for him to say don’t worry when it wasn’t him in the hot seat, but kept his mouth shut for a change.

“Yo, Sonny. What’s happening?” Max leaned up and shook their driver’s hand.

“Ah, nothin’ but driving you spoiled brats around.” His dark face beamed in amusement. Ben wouldn’t allow them out the door unless they agreed to let their bodyguard drive them. They had kept it between just the band about the appointment, and Max had to talk stern to make the rest of the guys stay behind. He saw no reason in needing five of them to hold his grown hand.

“Walker just wanted you to take precautions. You probably just need a worm treatment.” Mave chuckled at his own joke as he settled in beside Max. He tried conveying a light demeanor, but the anxious drumbeat he tapped against his knee was a dead giveaway to his worry.

Max’s trainer showed up last week as he did every week to put the guitarist through a rigorous weight training workout since the group had arrived in California. Walker jotted down Max’s food intake for the prior week during his warmup, which confessed to the twenty hot dogs he ate during a challenge with Mave where Mave ended up in the same condition as Will. Entire pizzas, pies, cakes, huge steak dinners, dozens of burgers, large quantities of chicken and waffles, some fruits and vegetables, and three daily protein shakes rounded out the food journal. By the time Walker finished recording the atrocious list, his brows were pinched heavily with concern.

“It’s time we get you checked out. Something’s off.” Those hesitant words from Walker were the reason Max was on his way to the hospital for bloodwork.

“Maybe you have a hormonal imbalance. That would explain your mood swings...” Mave kept rambling off cheesy comments while Max remained mute until they arrived.

The guys were able to enter the hospital without a flurry of attention for a change, helping Max’s frazzled nerves settle a bit. The entire exam and bloodwork took very little time with the staff already prepared to accommodate the rocker as quickly and quietly as possible. Hidden away in a back office, the clock slowed to a hesitant tick while they waited for the results. Thankfully, Sonny brought in an Italian pasta feast since Max had to fast for the tests. The three guys ate with gusto, but remained relatively quiet.

A light tap on the door sounded as a doctor with Asian decent walked in with a folder tucked under his arm.

“Mr. King, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He shook Max’s hand and then offered it to Mave. “As well as you, Mr. King.”
Clearly a fan.

“Thanks, Dr. Cheng,” Max replied, reading the name stitched on the white lab coat.

“Just call me Nori.” He plopped in a chair and pulled on a pair of thick-framed glasses. Opening the file, he began reviewing the test results.

“He’s got worms, right?” Mave spoke, causing the doctor to look up from the chart.

Max leveled his smart-aleck brother with a warning look.

“No parasites were found,” the doctor answered seriously, not realizing the joke. “However, the numbers on your thyroid are abnormal. Since this seems to be something that’s been going on for quite a while, I’d like to run a few more tests.”

With that, the afternoon droned by with a battery of tests that was eventually explained to the confused man and his brother.

“Hyperthyroidism is a condition where the thyroid produces too much thyroid hormone. That explains why Max can eat with no weight gain and also why he always feels starved,” the doctor said as he scribbled on a prescription pad. “Anxiety and irritability are also symptoms.”

This comment elicited a grunt and an exaggerated nod from Mave. Those were recent symptoms, and Max knew his thyroid wasn’t the cause, but he kept quiet with only offering a shoulder shrug and nod of confirmation.

After the doctor handed over a few prescriptions and Mave lined up tickets for their next concert to be delivered to Dr. Cheng, the guys finally headed out.

The whirling sound of the automated doors preceded the tinkering clicks of multiple cameras directed at the twins. The flickering of flashes and shouts from the paparazzi had Mave stepping ahead of Max as the two of them hurried toward the SUV. They ignored the shouts of offensive questions and dove into the backseat.

“Well, at least things should straighten out now that we know what’s ailing ya.” Mave began tapping a beat against the leather seats while looking relieved.

He should have known better.

•♫•♫•♫
•

One day… One trip to the hospital… And one unfortunate picture. That’s all it took to turn the gossip rags into a tizzy of bogus reports that spread quicker than an irritated rash.

As Max flipped through the latest gossip magazine, his thoughts pondered about how a celebrity could be painted in a glamourous Godlike depiction in one moment, but then completely shrouded in condemnation and vulgarity the next.

The pictures and the false headlines proved it.
Rock Nation’s Drummer King Falls, Maverick Takes a Tumble, Rehab for the Rocker.
The lie was even trending on the social media sites.

“This is stupid!” Max roared as he slung the magazine across the kitchen, landing it in the trash where it rightfully belonged. “Dude is clean.”

“We know that, and more importantly, God knows.” Tate clamped Max on the shoulder for reassurance, but it did little good.

His phone vibrated with an incoming text. Max pulled it out of his pocket and stomped to the back deck. Relief flooded his system at the sight of Mona’s name on the phone screen, even though he knew he wasn’t worthy of it.

Mona –
R u ok?

The media took the pictures of the twins leaving the hospital as a sign that Mave was the one in duress, but Mona knew them well enough to pick up on the fact that in every photo Mave stood in front of his brother as a shield for him. It was an instinctual habit the twins shared.

Max inhaled a shaky breath and typed a reply.
Good news, I don’t have worms. Bad news, stupid thyroid is jacked up.
He hit send and sank into a lounge chair.

Mona –
That doesn’t sound good to me.

Max –
No worries. Nothing a pill won’t fix.
He hit send, but cringed when rereading it, so he sent another one.
Need to get the heat off Mave. Will u release a statement about me having hyperthyroid and being treated.
His fingers faltered a beat with knowing that wouldn’t be enough juice to sate the media, so he added,
also let them in on our split.

A long pause punctuated her hurt before Mona replied with a simple,
ok
.

Nausea rolled through his gut with knowing he was intentionally inflicting pain on Mona, as well as himself, in order to save his brother from the lynch mob.

“Are you alright?” Jewels asked as she sat on the end of the lounge chair and nudged his leg.

“Right as rain.”

Jewels shook her head. “You don’t fool me, Maxim King.” She reached over and boldly read the texts still on the screen.

“Nosy much?” He yanked the phone away and shoved it in his pocket.

“What happened with Mona?”

“She deserved better.”

“Is that what she said?” A slice of irritation mingled with her tone.

“I said,” he quietly answered, hoping to hush the topic away.

“Oh please. How lame is that?”

“How many years did you hold on to the same notion you weren’t good for Dillon? Half your life at least. Yeah, how lame?” Sarcasm deepened his voice.

Jewels was undeterred by his jab, waving her hand as though dismissing her own foolishness into the ocean breeze. “You can use my lame excuse all you want, but you still don’t fool me. You’ve gotten this bizarre idea stuck in your hardhead that if you abandon them first, then they won’t have the chance to do it to you.”

“Now you sound like Aunt Evie.” Max snorted, pushing a teasing elbow into her side as he sat up.

“Why thank you.” Jewels quietly giggled before growing somber. “But you really opened your life to Mona. It was the first time you’ve allowed it with a woman. I don’t understand.” Her green eyes softened with sympathy.

“I tried, Jewels, but I ended up doing what I always do. I did manage to open the door, but when junk got real I found another exit and pushed her out of it.” A harsh huff trembled out of him. “Man, I’m messed up.”

“You need to knock it off, and let someone in permanently. I had really hoped Mona was going to be the one—”

“She deserves better than having to deal with my issues.”

“More like stupidities.” Jewels leaned forward, demanding the attention he had averted toward the deck. She stopped holding her tongue long ago, not babying them over important issues at the expense of hurting their feelings.

“Whatever, Jewels. I need to go check on my brother.” Max pushed to his feet, hoping the pressure building in his chest would alleviate.

“He asked Izzy to give him some space.” She followed close behind him to the glass doors, allowing him to run away from the subject for the time being.

“And she actually listened?”

“Yeah. Poor guy. Those dumb reports dredged up some harsh memories. He looked right sick.”

Max ran his fingertips through the thick scruff on his chin. “I’ll fix it,” he muttered, closing the back door and making a beeline right out the front one.

Two hours later he was back with several boxes of fried goodness and two gallons of milk. That part only took a smidgen of the time he was gone. The rest of it was successfully spent with him hanging out with paparazzi, filling them in on his thyroid issue and even allowing them to film him jamming out in a local pawnshop’s music section. The owner wasn’t thrilled with the commotion at first, until realizing who the mischievous customer was. Before Max made it too far into the show word broke about Mona and his split, so he took time to help spread that around also, tolerating several rounds of Q & A’s with the weasels following him around.

Did you cheat?

No, dude. You don’t cheat on babes like Mona Fielding.

Did she cheat?

I wouldn’t blame her, but no. Mona is a saint.

Are you seeing anyone?

No.

What’s up with your brother?

Nothing, he’s standing by me while I deal with my health and breakup. Dude is awesome like that. He’s a saint, too.

He allowed them answers they had no right to know, all to set things straight about his brother. His skin ached as though the pain of exposing himself so openly were causing his pores to bleed acid, but his lazy smile never faltered.

Not until he pushed into his brother’s bedroom.

In that moment, everything faltered and flashed him right back to being nine years old. The luscious aroma of cinnamon and vanilla vanished along with the vast beach house suite, regressing to the tiny trailer reeking of musty disappointment. The large lump of man under the expensive comforter transformed into a barely noticeable bump under the threadbare quilt of the double bed.

“Whatcha doin’?” Max stood at the end of their shared bed.

“Hiding.” Mave’s voice muffled out through his fabric fortress.

“From what?”

“Everything.”