Page 44 of Spark

“A brazen money grab like that,” Kai says, “premiered to an audience this big, would probably go straight to number one.”

I take a bite from the charcuterie board. “But what would a sequel to ‘Hate Sex High’ even be about? Erotic asphyxiation?”

We all crack up.

“We could write a song called ‘Spank,’” Savage offers, looking straight at Kendrick. “That title would grab people’s attention, don’t you think, KC? ”

As Kai expresses interest, I launch out of my seat, shouting, “Kendrick Cook! You swore you didn’t show those lyrics to anybody!”

“I didn’t,” Kendrick insists, shooting a death glare at Savage.

“Oh. Yeah. No, he didn’t,” Savage stammers. “I haven’t read any of it. I just saw the title when I glanced over his shoulder once, but he slammed his notebook shut before I could read anything else.”

“Same here!” I bellow, as Kai asks what the hell we’re talking about. “I only got to read the title and the first line before he snatched his precious journal away from me.”

“Guys, answer me,” Kai insists. “You’re saying Kendrick wrote a song called ‘Spank?’”

“Lyrics, yeah,” Savage confirms. “But he won’t let us see them.

” He grins at Kendrick, who’s still shooting him daggers.

“All we know is whatever he wrote is hot as fuck. Filthy, to the extreme. The filthiest thing you could ever possibly imagine. And Kendrick wrote the entire thing in one sitting.”

“What the fuck?” Kai says, looking flabbergasted. “That sounds like something you’d write, not Kendrick.”

Savage laughs. “That’s exactly what I said.”

Kai motions to his brother. “Go get your journal, KC. Let’s see this thing.”

“Yeah, KC,” I say with a devilish smile. “Go get your journal, KC. Let’s see this thing.”

“It’s not in there anymore,” Kendrick says, leaning back and spreading his thighs. “I ripped those pages out and threw them away.”

“When?” I blurt, feeling crestfallen.

“The other night. It was trash day after that, so they’re long gone now.”

I gasp and clutch my chest, feeling a deep sense of loss.

It was one thing for Kendrick to refuse to let me see those pages, but another thing for him to throw them away.

What happened to him letting me get turned on by the very existence of those written words in this world, even if he refused to let me see them?

Kai is beside himself with frustration. “Why the fuck did you do that?” he yells. “I’ve told you a million times to never, ever throw anything away, because there’s no such thing as a bad idea.”

“This time, there was.” Kendrick glares at Savage again, but he only laughs.

“Fucking hell, Kendrick,” Kai says, palming his forehead.

“Do you at least remember anything you wrote? I really like the title.” He puts his hand up, like he’s spreading letters across a marquee.

“‘Spank,’ from the band that brought you ‘Hate Sex High.’” He smirks at the group.

“That title would definitely be on-brand.” He’s a man on a mission now, as he turns to me.

“What was the first line you read? Do you remember it?”

Why, yes, I do. In fact, those words will be burned into my grey matter forever.

Lying awake, my body staging a coup / Can’t have ? —

Unfortunately, that’s all I saw, so I don’t know what Kendrick thinks he can’t have. Satisfaction? Relief, release, sex? What he needs, wants, deserves? It’s anybody’s guess.

All I know for sure is I’m not going to reveal a single word of Kendrick’s private thoughts to the group. It was one thing to admit I know about the existence of those lyrics, but it’d be another thing entirely to disrespect his stated boundaries by offering up any details.

I glance at Kendrick while replying to Kai. “I don’t remember any of it. Sorry. I was pretty drunk.”

Kai points at Savage. “Okay, rockstar. That’s your homework assignment, then. Write up some lyrics for a song called ‘ Spank,’ and let’s see where it takes us. That should be like falling off a log for you.”

“No, don’t,” Kendrick blurts. When everyone looks at him, he adds, “Think about it. If Savage sings a song called ‘Spank’ that’s about all the ways he gets off on spanking an ass, everyone will assume he’s singing about spanking his wife’s ass.”

Kai pulls a face. “Yeah. Obviously. So what?”

“So, that would feel forced. Like, TMI, dude. We get it. You like to bang and spank your wife. It’d feel like, you know, a money grab, and people wouldn’t like it.”

“What are you talking about?” Kai says with a roll of his eyes, while Savage pipes in to agree with Kendrick.

“I agree with Kendrick, too,” I say. “As raunchy as ‘Hate Sex High’ is, it’s still a love song. I know it’s mostly about sex, but you can tell Savage is secretly in love with “Laila, Laila,” or else why was he punching walls about her being with another guy?”

“Ruby’s spot-on,” Kendrick says. “A person doesn’t feel jealousy about someone they don’t give a shit about. Savage’s emotional torture is the reason the song works.”

Images of Kendrick’s college girlfriend, Florence, pop into my mind, probably because that’s the only time I’ve ever felt white-hot jealousy in my life. I was so freaking jealous of that girl, I wanted to scratch her eyes out.

“What do you know about jealousy?” Kai says to his brother. “You don’t have a jealous bone in your body.”

He doesn’t?

True, I’ve never seen Kendrick exhibit jealousy in relation to one of his tour flings or girlfriends.

But I’ve certainly seen him exhibit the emotion in relation to a few of my douchebag boyfriends.

Actually, I feel like he acted a bit jealous toward Finn, too, and Finn was a sweetheart.

Or maybe I’m confusing jealousy with simple protectiveness .

Savage shakes his head. “Yeah, I think it’s a non-starter.”

“I agree with them, for what it’s worth,” Titus says to Kai.

Kai looks at me. “Okay, so how about we write a response song to Cooper, then?”

“Nope,” I reply without hesitation.

“Come on, Ruby,” Kai says. “We could call it, ‘I Wasn’t Gonna Call You, Anyway, Ya Dipshit.’”

We all laugh at that, even me.

“Sorry, no. I don’t want to dignify Cooper’s pettiness with a song, especially one I’m going to have to play at shows for the rest of my life. I’m already sick to death of thinking about that motherfucker.”

“Yeah, fuck Cooper,” Kendrick says. “He’s a clout chaser. Let’s not help his career any more than we already have.” He looks at me, his blue eyes blazing, and I must say, for a guy who supposedly doesn’t have a jealous bone in his body, Kendrick looks pretty dang jealous to me.

Kai flaps his lips together. “Okay, well, are we officially out of ideas for today?”

“It kinda feels like we are,” Kendrick says.

“Yeah, I’m tapped out, guys,” Savage agrees.

“Let’s not give up just yet,” I say. “Maybe if we?—”

“It’s four to one, Ruby Duby,” Savage says with a yawn. “The sesh is now officially over. But don’t worry, maybe something we bounced around today will lead to a spark , later on.” He looks at Kendrick like he’s said something clever or funny. But if he’s making a joke, I don’t get it.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” I say. “Something we did today will definitely spark another idea. We just don’t know it yet.”

“Definitely.” With a wink at Kendrick, Savage claps his palms to his thighs. “Got any weed, brother? Or should I go to the dispensary? ”

“Yeah, I’ve got some,” Kendrick says. “I don’t have any beer, though.”

Kai pops up. “I’ll go get some.”

“I’ll order the pizzas,” Titus offers, pulling out his phone. “The usual?”

Everyone confirms Titus should order the same pizzas, as always.

“What about margaritas?” Kai asks. “Should I get some mix, when I get the beer?”

Hard-liquor cocktails are the only component of our traditional, post-writing-session party that’s variable. Everything else remains the same: weed, pizza, cheap beer.

“I think that’d be too big a reward, since we didn’t come up with anything,” I say. “But, hey, maybe that’s a reason to drown our sorrows.”

We discuss it as a group and quickly decide drowning our sorrows is, indeed, the superior plan. And so, with that decided, Kai heads toward the front door, a man on a mission.

“You wanna come with me, baby brother?”

“Sure,” Kendrick says, popping up. He strides toward his brother, but not before shooting me a look that tightens my lower abdomen—a smolder that practically screams, “I’d rather fuck you than party with these dipshits, but first things first.”

“Get some munchies, too,” Titus calls out to the Cook brothers. “Popcorn or chips or something.”

And, suddenly, it’s all I can do not to shoo everyone out so I can rip Kendrick’s clothes off and let him take me to heaven, once again.