Page 74 of Hard Rock Sin

He left before I could say anything else, leaving me to wonder.

Exactly what kind of relationship did Cameron have with his parents?

Chapter Twenty-Two

Cameron didn't sleepin my bed that evening. He'd made his excuses, saying he had to be out late, working in the recording studio, and didn't want to wake me when he got in.

It had been a long, lonely night.

I had intended to track him down the next day after my classes. I wanted to talk about that dinner. There had been something odd about the entire evening. Something off with Cameron's behavior around his parents.

Sharon and Grant were certainly different from how I'd imagined them. They weren't terrible monsters at all. They seemed to genuinely love their son. And Cameron clearly loved them.

He also clearly lived for their approval.

I wondered why that was. Nothing in their words or actions had led me to believe they disapproved of Cameron. He had probably been quite the wild child growing up, but whatever antics he had gotten up to hadn't created a strained relationship.

Except for that odd tension when Sharon talked about getting into politics.

She said they would need to discuss what that would mean for their family.

When I stepped into the mansion foyer, backpack loaded with heavy-as-brick textbooks, my ears were immediately assaulted with the deep, bone-shaking tones of a bass guitar.

I followed the noise up the stairs and down a hallway to a closed door. I hesitated before knocking. I didn't know which room was Cameron's bedroom, but I knew it was on the second floor. I still hadn't been in it yet.

"Cameron?" I called through the door hesitantly.

No answer.

The music was loud enough that Cameron wouldn't have been able to hear me call through the door. The music was also loud enough that I couldn't imagine being able to get any studying done while Cameron kept it up.

I had been meaning to speak with him anyway. I might as well use the excuse that his music was bothering me. Otherwise, I'd have to admit that I was worried about him. Worried about whether or not he was okay.

I was sure the last thing Cameron wanted was for me to worry about him.

I forced myself to overcome my hesitation and decided to enter the room anyway. I pushed the door open a crack.

It was Cameron's bedroom. Or, there was a bed at the far end of the room. But that was the only piece of furniture that lead me to believe Cameron might sleep in there.

Instead, the place looked like it could have been a music store. A very disorganized music store.

Half a dozen guitars in their stands and two drum sets were scattered throughout the room. A small piano was situated in the corner across from his bed. Music sheets were scattered across every surface. Amps were stacked on top of one another with wires crisscrossing the floor.

The place was a mess. No wonder Cameron didn't want me to see it.

Cameron stood in the middle of the room, facing away from me. He held his bass guitar in both hands, wailing away at the strings. Although bass was part of the rhythm section, it sounded like Cameron was shredding. I didn't even know that was possible.

I'd rarely heard bass guitar solos before, but this one was impressive. Even with his back turned, the speed with which his fingers flew across the strings left me breathless.

Cameron was breathless as well, his vigorous playing having taken its toll. His chest was heaving, his shoulders tense, his hair slightly damp with sweat. I wondered how long he'd been playing. It might have been for hours.

I waited until he was done, not wanting to interrupt. When the pounding beat subsided I knocked softly on the door jam.

Cameron turned to me with an inquisitive look.

His skin was pale, with dark bruises under his eyes. His eyes were glassy and almost unfocused. When he pushed away the strands of hair that stuck to his cheeks, his hands trembled. It looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Sorry." His voice was dull and full of exhaustion. "Was the noise bothering you?"