Box Of Rocks 2
Note: There is no underage sex in this story.
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Chapter 14
I was back, but I found out I really wasn't back. Mason had issues with trust, and viewed what happened in LA as a violation. He did talk to me about it a couple of weeks later, asking my feelings about what happened.
Over the weeks I had thought about it a lot. "Basically, I was raped. The saving grace is I don't remember any of it, so I don't have the trauma associated with such a violation of my body or mind. Still creeps me out, and I wish I could do something to pay them back."
Mason got an enigmatic look on his face and said he was glad I wasn't traumatized by the experience. Al filled me in later when I brought it up. "What's the expression I'm looking for from those old movies? Ah, right. 'You have been avenged.'"
"What does that mean?"
"It means the players in your little drama got payback. Everyone invovled, from the drug dealer to the lowlife who set you up. Bad things happened to them, things that in no way can be traced back to you. The drug dealer got caught holding, and it violated his probation, so he's back in jail and won't see the light of day for four more years. Slimeball got blacklisted, so he'll have a hard time finding gainful employment in his chosen profession. The woman got popped for solicitation and it's on her record now. Interestingly enough, they all claim they were set up."
"Wow."
"Wow is right. The moral of the story? Don't piss Mason off, or harm anybody close to him. He doesn't react well."
In the weeks afterward, I found myself being very careful around him, trying not to piss him off. Which, of course, pissed him off. "What the fuck are you doing with the Little Miss Goody Two Shoes act? I miss the Bitch, bitch."
Then he told me being naked would go a long way towards calming him down. I smarted off and refused, and the next thing I know my ass was in the air. He 'only' gave me twenty swats, and they weren't really hard, but they got my attention. After that, I would carry what I wanted to wear that day to him for approval. If he nodded yes I put it on, if he shook his head no I was naked the rest of the day. It didn't bother me much at all.
Chapter 15
I still went to the farmers market and he came along about every third time. I went one day and there was a young girl, busking on the little stage they provided. It was just her and an old beatup acoustic, but she had a really good voice, sweet and pure, and sang mostly love songs. I always put a five in her tip jar, and she got to me with one particular song, so I gave her a twenty. It was the biggest tip she'd ever got.
It shocked her no end and she thanked me about a dozen times. I just smiled and patted her arm. "Put it towards a new guitar."
She had a look of sadness on her face. "It's just me and my mom, and she's having a hard time making ends meet. Most of the vendors give me produce to take home, and I use the money to buy school clothes. it's one expense she won't have to bear."
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
I thought about that for a while. Now that I had money, I resolved to give her a twenty every time I came, but the season was winding down. I wondered what she would do when it was over. Then I came up with a plan.
I asked Mason to go with me the next week, telling him about the girl and how I'd like him to listen to her. He shrugged, but he was in the car with me Saturday. The little stage was right in the center of the market, and when we came up she waved at me and broke into my favorite song. Mason just stopped and listened with a look of pleasure on his face. I knew he wouldn't move for a while, so I picked up a few more veggies. When I got back he was gone.
I was wondering where he went when he appeared out of the crowd with a guitar in his hand. He hadn't brought one with him, and I wondered where it came from. He walked up behind her and tapped her shoulder. She looked up at this huge man who dwarfed her, taking in the hair, the goatee, and the handlebar mustache, and shrank back a little.
Mason gave her a gentle smile and held up the guitar. "Mind if I play a few with you?"
She stuttered through a yes, and they spent a couple of minutes syncing their instruments. She sang mostly standards, songs most everybody knew, and he had no problem playing along, adding a little fill in now and then. Then she started a song and Mason almost faltered. It was one of his, from the first Gutwrench album, the only ballad on the album. He played while she sang, and then joined her on the chorus, keeping his voice muted so he wouldn't overpower her. She jumped a little when she heard his voice, then sang even more powerfully.
By then a good crowd had gathered and she was glowing with the attention. About twenty people applauded while the last chords lingered, and one woman asked if Mason was her father. "No, he's..."
She turned around, and Mason was gone. What was still there was the guitar, lying on it's case. Madison looked at me with something like panic. "Do you know who that was?"
I shrugged. "Just a guy who liked your music, I guess. You two looked really good together."
"He left his guitar. What should I do?"
"Take it home and keep it safe. He'll probably be around next week to get it."
The whole thing had her shaken. "You know what this is? It's a Taylor. They're like two grand minimum. I can't keep this!"
"You're not keeping it for you. Watch over it, play it while you have it. He'll be along one of these days to take it back."
She walked with me to my car, pointing across the street. There was a music store right across from the market. "See that red guitar? I'm going to own it, someday." I walked over after she left and snapped a picture of it, so Mason could tell me what it was.
Mason was sitting in the car, the black out windows hiding him from view. I shocked the shit out of him by kissing his cheek. "You're a big softie, Mase."
"Shut the fuck up and drive."
Chapter 16
I showed the video I'd made to Al, and she insisted I link it to his monster television, then brought their friends in to look at it. Mason and Al had been working on some songs, and they brought in two players that finished the band. Titi, pronouced Teetee, was a tiny blond, when it wasn't dyed some exotic color. Right now it was purple in the back, fading into a vibrant pink in the front. She was almost flatchested, and never wore a bra. Her old band made a joke out of it, calling her Titty instead of Titi, and she ran with it. It was all she'd respond to now.
Al told me she was one of the best drummers around. Her old band had broken up, much like Al's. Al had wanted her when she put together her old band, but she was on contract for another eighteen months to the band she was with, and the window closed. Now she mostly did session work, doing an odd tour or two for other musicians. Her anger sometimes showed in her playing. She had also been in a long term relationship with another woman and a man, and after two years they decided they wanted to be exclusive, and forced Titty out.
Jon-Luc was Morrocan, almost as tall as Mason, jet black, and he didn't have a hair on his body. He was primarily a keyboardist, but could play anything with strings as well, and had played with a jazz-fusion outfit based in France for four years, until they broke up. It was also a bitter dissolution, when the saxophonist left he took Jon's boyfriend of six years with him. He'd come to America to shed the past, and like Titty had been doing session work to make ends meet.
Al and Mason brought them in as just that, session players, but as they gelled Mason got with Al, and they offered them a full partnership. They could all sing, and when they sat around harmonizing on a song they were writing it sent chills up your spine. They both agreed instantly, recognizing the potential in the partnership.
They were all there, and Al got them to watch. They grinned, all lost in memories of when they were young and aspiring. Titty laughed. "Know what she needs? A backup band."
It snowballed from there. In the end they decided to do it, to see how people reacted to them live. I had Maddie on Twitter, and contacted her, telling her a half truth. "The old guy (what she called Mason, which bothered him. But when you're sixteen, 33 looks pretty old) got in touch with me. He wants to play with you again. This Saturday good?"
She immediately replied, excited. Then sad. She'd gotten used to the Taylor, and the old beat up Harmony she owned was a good guitar, but nowhere near the quality of the Taylor.