pain in my ass ’cuz Harley was all mine, and he wanted her to be his. He didn’t understand we were like brother and sister. A bond he couldn’t break no matter how hard he tried. We were best friends, and I’d be lying if I said I thought he was good enough for her.
He wasn’t. At least not in my eyes.
“Cash, go to your room,” Momma ordered, nodding at me. Meaning business.
I simply stated the truth, “I am in my room.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, realizing where she was. I put my hands up in a surrendering gesture. “What? I am.”
“Then grab your things and ride your dirt bike to the clubhouse. We’ll meet you there.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I reached for my guitar in Pop’s hand, shocking the shit outta me when he reluctantly let it go.
As I was hightailing it outta there, I overheard my momma ask, “Dylan, why can’t you just let him play? He’s not hurting anyone.”
“Just himself.”
I scoffed out a grunt and left the house before I said something I’d regret.
Chapter 3
“Sometimes I am two people. Johnny is the nice one. Cash causes all the trouble. They fight.”
-Johnny Cash
<>Cash<>
I didn’t wanna continue arguing with my father, not with my momma there. More often than not, she took my side. Reminding him I was born with music in my soul. Ever since I was cooking in her stomach, she’d turn on my daddy’s favorite old school blues, and I’d go crazy. My old man was obsessed with the classics, taking after his old man. I guess you could say it was inevitable for me to love B.B. King, Jimmy Reed, Muddy Waters, and my personal favorite...
Johnny Cash.
I was actually named after the music legend.
Johnny Cash McGraw.
Except, everyone had called me Cash since the day I was born.
See, this was the hardest thing for me to understand about my father. He’d always loved blues tunes, still did. I’d often catch my parents playing their records out on the back porch. Slow dancing under the stars, getting lost in each other and the music they loved.
He knew the power it held. How it could make ya feel like nothing else mattered but the lyrics they were singing. Music could heal the world, and I wanted nothing more than to be a part of it.
To be a voice of reason was all I ever dreamed of.
Nothing in the world came close to the sensations a guitar could strum inside of me. I played what came naturally to me. What felt right. Frequently making up my own beats and rhythms. Letting the music play me, versus me playing the music.
My mind was wired differently. I could hear a beat as simple as someone tapping their knuckles on the table, and I’d instantly disappear into another world. Where I’d close my eyes and wait for the sounds to invade my senses.
Coming to life through my hands.
When my father didn’t wanna hear what I had to say, my music spoke louder, clearer than any words I could ever use to express myself.
Music was everything to me.
My talent knew no bounds.
Making me unstoppable.
“Cash!” Harley shouted when she saw my dirt bike approaching her daddy’s compound.
Smiling and waving her hands at me.
It was Sunday, our families’ favorite day of the week, where everyone gathered together for grillin’, drinkin’, and shootin’ the shit.
Her old man, Creed, was the Prez of the End of The Road Motorcycle Club. This was their place. He was strait-laced now, however back in the day, he was a 1%. Whatever that meant. Cleaning up his act when he married Harley’s momma, Mia.
No one messed with the Jamesons in this town. Creed and his younger brother, Noah, ruled all just as much as my father did, but for different reasons. With the help of my pops, Harley’s daddy saved her momma’s life. I didn’t know the whole story behind it, other than they were heroes.
My old man got called that a lot. He saved my momma’s life too. He was so high up on a pedestal in this town, there was no way I’d ever reach it.
“Well, don’t cha look as pretty as a peach today, Harley?” I greeted once I was in front of her.
She beamed.
I knew more about girls than I cared to admit. My older sisters Giselle, Constance, and Locket made sure of it. They were all old enough to be out on their own, yet Constance and Locket still lived at home,