Chapter 69: Evil Snakes Run Lots of Games

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Okay! This is a one-shot point of view from the bad guy we all love to hate. We've been asking ourselves...how bad is Dawes, really? I think this chapter answers that question....

Dawes

This shoot is organized chaos, just like every goddamn location shoot, and even though the director is one of the best in the business, the schedule will not go as planned. It never does.

It will be a long damn day. It's why I doubled up on the "supplements" in MacKenna's morning smoothie.

I eye her, gauging the effect. She's smiling but antsy, surrounded by Trace's new crew as she gets her hands and feet painted in temporary henna tattoos—some Indian Bridal tradition, and one of the highly stylized elements of the video. She'll be in full costume...a golden embroidered two piece "wedding dress," a heavily jeweled head piece. She's balking at the ornate choker necklace, but the director wants it.

It's a fucking problem. A real timing challenge--keeping her energized with the herbal energy stuff for the dance scenes, and slipping a Valium into her almond butter and crackers later in the afternoon so that I can talk her into the necklace.

I watch her as I have been for three weeks, her bouncing knee, her eyes darting back and forth. Shit, I might have given her a little too much of that herbal energy stuff. If she figures it out, I'm done.

Her gaze meets mine, and she frowns slightly. Then, Trace's girlfriend distracts her, poking at the one non-talented del Marco with one of the makeup artists brushes, trying to make him watch the make-up artist painting Mac, and he snatches the brush from Kat and dips it in the stain, drawing a curley-q across her bare shoulder.

I snort. Poor Trace. Bastard is clueless that his little brother is on his girl. I could tell Trace that Street is working up a little crush and that Kat just doesn't see it, and he'd probably channel Matt del Marco and find some cool as fuck way to check Street's punk ass before it spirals while having a heart-to-heart bonding moment at the same time, and also give Kat all the feels in the way he does it.

But what good would that do me?

None.

So I might as well watch and wait. See what kind of mess Little Sister makes with Little Brother. Might be able to work that to my advantage somehow. I don't think Soundcrush will let me back in the door, but it's always good to be armed with ammo when it comes to a del Marco. Plus, Trace is usually the key to keeping Heartley in line...he'll listen to Gallant when he'll listen to no one else. And keeping Heartley managed is critical, because no matter what the fuck I do, I can't seem to separate him from MacKenna.

Been trying for years—seizing every opportunity, planting every seed of doubt, making sure he saw every fanboy I could, keeping MacKenna focused on every mistake she's made when it comes to him.

No matter what I've done, they keep coming back around. And as long as she's tied to him, she'll never break with Soundcrush.

MacKenna is a star in her own right. I've known that since the first tour. She doesn't belong behind a keyboard stand, playing second fiddle to Leed, with her hands tied by Trace's Alt-Rock Colored Glasses.

She belongs center stage. She belongs in the money. She belongs with me in the driver's seat of her career.

Guys like me, we wait our whole career for a MacKenna Lawson. The music scene shifts all the time. You can develop a talent that is just ready to peak, and then pop veers from r&b or dance to hip-hop and what-ever-the-fuck and suddenly your rising star is irrelevant. To find the perfect talent at the perfect time and seize the perfect opportunity to be the inside man—it's a once in a lifetime thing.

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